It was a long ride across the countryside to get to Durban. We passed rural Xhosa villages and into KwaZulu Natal, Zulu area. Durban is the largest port in the country and has one of the worst crime rates. Gayle took us on a tour of the coloured townships. They were very different than those we saw in Cape Town, much more settled, less garbage, and more durably built. Durban has the largest Indian population outside of India because many of them were brought as indentured servants to work the sugar plantations around Durban. Later they did much of the construction throughout Durban and other areas of South Africa.
One of the most memorable story Gayle told us was about the Zanzibar slaves. There were 43 slaves who arrived on a British Frigate in 1836, two years after the abolition of slavery. The British originally put them on several hectares of land on the bluffs, but when apartheid regulations became laws and the Group Area Land Act went into effect, the government wanted to move the Zanzibarians to the black townships, populated with Zulu and other South African ethnic groups. The Zanzibarians refused to go and requested to be grouped with the Indians with whom they at least shared some common religion with, at least with the Indians who were Muslim. It was much more beneficial for them to be labeled as Indian or Coloured, as opposed to black. The Zanzibar slaves were allowed to move into the Indian area and now post apartheid, they are trying to reclaim their land; however, an elderly home, school, and set of apartments currently occupies part of the land. To get back their land, the Zanzibar descendants now wait for the current tenants to die before they are allowed to move back onto their land, which will of course then display the families of the white residents currently living there. The whole reclamation movement post apartheid is now displacing another population…it’s an endless circle.
Gayle also mentioned that many of the whites left Durban post apartheid, afraid of black rule and retribution. Many have settled in Australia, selling their 3.5 million rand bluff homes for 350,000 rand in the early 90’s to leave the country. Now, it’s the crime level that is driving the Whites and well off Blacks and Coloureds out of the country. There appears to be a perpetual cycle, South Africa is like a dog chasing its tail. Every time it gets close to solving one problem, another crops up…maybe it’s more like the Whack-a-Mole game.
One of the most memorable story Gayle told us was about the Zanzibar slaves. There were 43 slaves who arrived on a British Frigate in 1836, two years after the abolition of slavery. The British originally put them on several hectares of land on the bluffs, but when apartheid regulations became laws and the Group Area Land Act went into effect, the government wanted to move the Zanzibarians to the black townships, populated with Zulu and other South African ethnic groups. The Zanzibarians refused to go and requested to be grouped with the Indians with whom they at least shared some common religion with, at least with the Indians who were Muslim. It was much more beneficial for them to be labeled as Indian or Coloured, as opposed to black. The Zanzibar slaves were allowed to move into the Indian area and now post apartheid, they are trying to reclaim their land; however, an elderly home, school, and set of apartments currently occupies part of the land. To get back their land, the Zanzibar descendants now wait for the current tenants to die before they are allowed to move back onto their land, which will of course then display the families of the white residents currently living there. The whole reclamation movement post apartheid is now displacing another population…it’s an endless circle.
Gayle also mentioned that many of the whites left Durban post apartheid, afraid of black rule and retribution. Many have settled in Australia, selling their 3.5 million rand bluff homes for 350,000 rand in the early 90’s to leave the country. Now, it’s the crime level that is driving the Whites and well off Blacks and Coloureds out of the country. There appears to be a perpetual cycle, South Africa is like a dog chasing its tail. Every time it gets close to solving one problem, another crops up…maybe it’s more like the Whack-a-Mole game.
In the picture you can see South Africans trying to reclaim their land and heritage by renaming the streets. Most of the streets in Durban have signs like this. Gradually, the ANC government is replacing colonial chosen street names with names of figures from the movement. However, as Gayle pointed out, in the effort to do so, many people are confused, lost, and don't even know the people who the streets are being named after.
When we go on these tours, I watch Xolani listen to the stories about his country. He listens attentively to the problems Gayle talks about, teenage prostitution, gangs, drugs, etc. and his face drops a little with every fact and statistic. I feel sorry for him and proud of him at the same time. When he’s not helping us, he’s a teacher working on his master’s degree in linguistics. He got out of the townships in Jo’burg and put himself through college.
I think about what I had to do, getting out of the inner city, being a teenage mom and dropping out of high school. I know that it was hard, and I worked hard all the time. If it was hard for me, it must have been hell for Xolani. Darrin and I have discussed how it is when you are doing better than those of your family and friends you knew. When you go back to the neighborhood, they look at you with envy and folded arms of expectation. It’s an unspoken expectation, but it’s tangible, hanging in the unspoken air, some expectation they have of your responsibility to drag him/her out of the mire of poverty. It’s uncomfortable. It’s sad, and it makes you feel like shit, which makes you never want to go back. But when you sever ties then you’re alone. Xolani must feel very alone at times.
When we go on these tours, I watch Xolani listen to the stories about his country. He listens attentively to the problems Gayle talks about, teenage prostitution, gangs, drugs, etc. and his face drops a little with every fact and statistic. I feel sorry for him and proud of him at the same time. When he’s not helping us, he’s a teacher working on his master’s degree in linguistics. He got out of the townships in Jo’burg and put himself through college.
I think about what I had to do, getting out of the inner city, being a teenage mom and dropping out of high school. I know that it was hard, and I worked hard all the time. If it was hard for me, it must have been hell for Xolani. Darrin and I have discussed how it is when you are doing better than those of your family and friends you knew. When you go back to the neighborhood, they look at you with envy and folded arms of expectation. It’s an unspoken expectation, but it’s tangible, hanging in the unspoken air, some expectation they have of your responsibility to drag him/her out of the mire of poverty. It’s uncomfortable. It’s sad, and it makes you feel like shit, which makes you never want to go back. But when you sever ties then you’re alone. Xolani must feel very alone at times.
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