Lily Zhou, Public Health and Development in South Africa, Spring 2013
“What are the stereotypes about Americans?” we asked our tour guide.
“You stereotype Africa as a homogeneous place,” he laughed, “you think it is a country.”
As embarrassing as this accusation was, it’s true in varying gradients. Some of my friends from home have asked me whether I see lions and hippos roaming around, and I chuckle as I’ve spent the majority of my time in South Africa at the Stellenbosch University campus:
No hippos here
Even though I recognize the fault in viewing the world through a lens of absolutes—in haves and have-nots—I was still surprised at how “Western” and less traditionally “African” Cape Town and Stellenbosch are. To put it simply, I was shocked at my lack of culture shock. Surrounded by beautiful scenic mountains, Stellenbosch is a European-esque town with heavy Dutch influences in its architecture, culture, and language. The university is about 70% white, 15% coloured (mixed), and 15% black. While I initially viewed these racial statistics as simple categories and numbers, I quickly began realizing the tragic legacy of racial discrimination and struggle in post-Apartheid South Africa.
Just fifteen minutes outside of the picturesque downtown Stellenbosch lies Kayamandi, a township built in the 1950s that was reserved for non-whites. Kayamandi is known in Stellenbosch as a “bad neighborhood”: its social conditions foster rampant alcoholism, crime, sexual assault, and drug abuse. The public health clinics are overcrowded, stray dogs bark at you every few minutes, housing is haphazardly constructed with tin sheets, and trash litters the street. Community members who manage to find work amidst the climate of alarmingly high unemployment usually do so in jobs considered menial: as waiters, construction workers, custodians, etc.
Our group of twenty American students awkwardly walked through the community while locals openly stared and children flocked to hold hands with the foreign tourists. Questions about the interplay between privilege, power, and the ethics behind poverty tourism buzzed through my mind as we observed the township’s conditions whilst documenting daily life with our cameras that likely cost more than an average worker’s annual salary.
Kayamandi
After these tours, the majority of the students and I felt overwhelmingly dejected. Such a juxtaposition of first and third world conditions within mere minutes of one another made us wonder: are poverty and disparity normalized here? Historical injustices—like the forcible removal of blacks and coloureds to areas like Kayamandi—are a major root to the complex issues embedded within the social fabrics of these communities. Shouldn’t there be more of a collective responsibility to right the wrongs of the past?
Thankfully, there is. We’ve been able to visit and work at NGOs and public clinics that scatter Stellenbosch and the Western Cape. Whether these organizations counsel those suffering from HIV, treat children with tuberculosis, or aid in the recovery process of drug addicts, they all operate on the core principles of human dignity and equality. Despite the many parallels between South Africa and the United States when it comes to race relations, the dialogue about race in here is refreshingly straightforward and honest. There are few who naively state that this society is colorblind. Our program’s professors exude a passion for progressiveness. And, I’m surrounded by peers who are eager to travel, explore, and learn from this place so different yet similar to home.
While I can’t yet say with confidence what South Africa is in all its complexities, I can say that this past month has been exhilarating, heartbreaking, and beautiful—and has definitely left a mark on my consciousness.