Initiatives of Change - My History, Your History, Our History by Robert Corcoran, United States

My history, your history, our history

Tshwane (formerly Pretoria), South Africa, like Richmond, Virginia, in the USA is a city of monuments and powerful memories. In historic Church Square stands the statue of Oom Paul, the “father of Afrikanerdom.” On Richmond’s Monument Avenue, General Robert E. Lee, hero of the Southern Confederacy during America’s Civil War sit astride his horse.

For white Afrikaners, the memory of their struggle against British domination is still compelling. Many white southerners still remember the “lost cause” with nostalgia and regard the north with suspicion. For black Africans, the story is the struggle for freedom from apartheid. Black Americans feel pride in overcoming slavery and segregation.

What does it mean to be a South African? It’s one thing to break down walls. It’s another to build bridges. With the ending of legal separation, people search for a new sense of identity. Each has a different story to tell. Sometimes different versions of history seem in conflict, but they are real for those who have experienced them. Understanding and honoring these different stories and embracing a shared history may be vital in building new relationships based on trust.

Susan and I first visited South Africa in 1977, during some of the darkest days of apartheid. Married just three months, we found ourselves leading an international group of twenty-five young people. We were accompanied by young black and white South Africans who were working courageously to bring about change through non-violent means. Our encounters with students in a still-smoldering Soweto following the 1976 uprising, and with students at the ultra-conservative Pochestroom University are etched in our memory.

This April we recalled these experiences as we reunited with our traveling companions who are now responsible for Initiatives of Change in the new South Africa. In Tshwane, our hosts were Pieter and Meryl Horn. Pieter is an Afrikaner whose grandfather narrowly escaped execution by the British during the Anglo-Boer War. In Cape Town, Samuel and Virginia Pono welcomed us to their home in a newly integrated neighborhood. Samuel is a Xhosa elder and jazz musician from Queenstown in the Eastern Cape. As a young man, his love of music was matched by his hatred for whites. Yet his decision twenty-eight years ago to work with Pieter in honest partnership provided an early model of reconciliation for South Africa.

We are deeply moved to accompany Samuel on a visit to Robben Island. Former political prisoners conduct the tour. Our guide had been incarcerated for seventeen years. He tells the story without accusation or bitterness and expresses the hope that the experience of visiting the prison will help South Africans build a new, reconciled country.

The energy of South Africa, the optimism of young entrepreneurs, and the vigour of public debate impress us. Many schools appear to be doing a better job of integration than the US. The currency is strong, the shopping malls are bustling and the housing market is booming.

But the gap between the “haves” and “have-nots” is glaring and growing. Cape Town, with its stunning waterfront and mansions perched below Table Mountain, is surrounded by vast “informal settlements.” Each year 48,000 people migrate to the city each year seeking employment. We are told that the government plans to put R160 billion into infrastructure projects in the next few years, which will help create jobs.

The new black elite is disconnected from the grassroots communities; in some cases young people can no longer speak the vernacular of their grandparents. Fear of crime is overwhelming. Houses are hidden behind high walls and electric fences and many people live in new “security villages.” Of course the AIDS crisis touches almost everyone in the country.

Despite the extraordinary example of reconciliation by Mandela and other national leaders, and the work of reconstruction and transformation that is taking place, it is apparent that there has as yet been little opportunity for real conversation between ordinary South Africans of different backgrounds. Judge John Trengove tells us, “There are hundreds of thousands of white people who have never understood what the policy of apartheid meant to the people who experienced it.”

In a recent poll, 66% of the “colored” community, which makes up more than half the population of the Cape Province, said they believed that the black dominated government does not care about them. They see job preference and housing priorities going to black Africans. As in the days of apartheid, this community, which blends the cultures of Asia, Europe and Africa finds itself trapped in the middle. A commonly heard phrase is, “First we were not white enough, now we are not black enough.”

Many whites feel they have no future in the new South Africa; from some we heard resentment, disappointment and fear of rejection. For black South Africans of course, change cannot come quickly enough.

Earlier in the year, the premier of the Cape Province caused a stir with his call to “open up the debate on racism.” Dr. Fanie du Toit, a program manager at the Institute for Justice and Reconciliation responded in a commentary in the Cape Times: “Reconciliation is approaching a turning point. We have crossed, or are in the process of crossing the bridges of coexistence and cooperation. We decided not to kill one another (coexistence) and to some extent we are learning to work together (cooperation). For some, these achievements seem sufficient. But a further need remains. It is to build trust across divides that defined our past. If we fail to do this as a basis for shaping a new future, apartheid may yet have the last laugh.”

In this context we share experiences from America’s ongoing struggle with racial division and the approaches that have proved effective in Richmond. Civil servants, community activists, representatives of NGOs and clergy join a day of dialogue and skills building in Tshwane. “How can we move from talking about my history or your history to talking about our history?” asks one participant.

In Cape Town, Police Inspector Kevin Williams convenes community leaders from the traditionally colored area of Kensington. Gangs, drugs, family values and relations with squatter camp residents are major concerns. As participants became more comfortable with open dialogue, painful questions relating to the identity of the colored community emerge. “If we don’t know who we are, we can’t make our real contribution,” says one person. Williams remarks that the Ponos are the first black African family that he and his wife had known at a personal level.

Wherever we go we see how much the US and South Africa can learn from each other in overcoming our histories of racial separation and the resulting inequalities of wealth. For a world that is fragmenting along ethnic and religious lines, success in this task is of great importance.