‘I heard the drum beat behind your footsteps
And the children of the south began to sing.’
—Mazisi Kunene, South African poet
IT MAY SEEM STRANGE FOR ME to be writing about my ‘first impression’ given that I was born and raised here. But the explanation is simple. I have lived away from South Africa on so many occasions in my adult life—sometimes for a number of years at a time, sometimes only for a year or two, or even just a few months—that each time I return home, I find myself almost as an outsider looking in on my countrymen, my kith and kin and our volatile nation. It is always with renewed amazement, with sheer delight that I re-experience the changes, reconnect with who we are becoming.
This is probably because in many ways we really are a new nation. From 26–28 April 1994, when we all stood together in queues that were hours, if not days, long, we really were voting not just for a democratic government, but for a totally new existence. The changes in South Africa since then have been monumental, and, some say with justification, miraculous. Of course they have not all been easy, but I think it is that very grittiness that gives South Africa an edge, a dynamism that gets under your skin. It’s that sense of really being alive. And I sorely miss it when I am away. I regret at times the fact I have not always experienced each change as it happens, that I have missed out, at least first-hand, on some of the political imbroglios that have been blown wide open by our ever-watchful press, the growth of vast new business empires by people who were once disbarred from leading a real life, the transformation of our culture from racially segregated pastiches into a rich and constantly changing whole.
But then I step off a plane at OR Tambo International Airport (and even the airport has changed its name twice in the last decade or so!) in Johannesburg and within seconds the transformation from an outsider to being ‘at home’ begins. At first I notice all the little details that could otherwise become background noise in our busy heads. I notice how so many people smile and are warm and friendly. I notice how pleasant and helpful ordinary people can be. How they greet each other, and me, even if they don’t know me, and even if they may never see me again. I notice how brightly the sun shines and the utterly blue sky. I notice the pizzazz with which our youth wear their clothes, their attitudes, their iPods, their hope! I see them all as if for the first time, again. And I marvel at how much has changed. I marvel at our fortune at having been given a second chance, a chance to start our country all over again, and I marvel at the new and exciting way we are going about it.
Sometimes, from afar, I wish I had a closer understanding of who our new young South Africans really are and where they plan to take our country, our future. But when I get back and meet them again, face to face, I realise there is no knowing where we are going, but I do know I have every confidence they will make exciting, new choices.
Just recently I had the most wonderful experience of enjoying my country through the eyes of a very dear friend from New York (a French Canadian, born and raised in Montreal) who had never before set foot on the African continent. I have been lucky to be able to include Lise Curry’s insightful and generous first-timer’s impressions. You enjoy!
A dream come true—embracing the land of Africa. Right off the plane at the Johannesburg airport, I feel a sense of ease—not only because Dee and David are there to greet me, but because I sense all around me an atmosphere of welcome.
The author, left, with Lise Curry, a friend from New York, on an excursion in the bush near Nedile Game Lodge in the Welgevonden Game Reserve. It was Lise’s first ever visit to South Africa.
As we drive into town, Johannesburg strikes me as a world-class city with beautiful neighbourhoods—all hills, glorious trees and well-tended homes—though I cannot help noticing that every house is strung with wire (electric fencing), surrounded with steel gates and posted with prominent security signs warning of an ‘Armed Guard Response’. I am not taken aback. I do not relate this especially to South Africa; after all, you see such features in many European spots.
It is the following day that I really feel I have landed in Africa. As we head out of the city for a 4-day visit to the Nedile Game Lodge, the landscape outside the city of scrub brush is exactly what I had imagined the ‘African terrain’ to be. And as we drive north I observe some scenes that first brought to me the dichotomy of feelings that have stayed with me ever since.
While we were travelling on a modern highway I saw people walking, mostly alone, on either side of the road. And I couldn’t but help realise that they were walking long distances in the full African sun because I too was travelling those same forlorn distances from one remote crossroad to another—but by car. I couldn’t help thinking: Walking to where? To seek work, to seek shelter, to seek aid? The question stays though we move on, soon to arrive at the land of total enchantment.
As we arrive at the game lodge entrance we are received by our guide Walter, and I know the very minute I board the Land Rover that this is why I’ve travelled so far. The air is magical, my first sighting of wild life completely stuns me and the drive up and down valleys and mountains, through the mix of stony terrain, unusual trees, bushes and grasses, makes me feel I have entered another world.
The lodge is magnificent—a 5-star establishment. The accommodation is superb, the surrounding landscape awe-inspiring and the service first-class. The key element is of course our guide. As Walter takes us on twice-daily excursions into the bush, we quickly realise that we totally lucked up. Walter is extremely knowledgeable and totally sensitive to the land, the flora, the animals, the birds. He projects such a feeling of security and belonging that I’m overtaken by an intense sense of wonder and harmony. He stops the Land Rover frequently to point out plants and he tells us of the traditional use black people make of them. He points out birds (that we surely would have missed), gives comments on the land and the various animals we encounter. I am transfixed by his passion.
He led us to observe almost all the major animal species and birds of the region, including a lioness and her two daughters right after a kill, an owl on a kill, rhinos right near us, zebras, giraffes, warthogs, wildebeest, kudus, jackals and a magnificent male lion making his way down the road all alone at sundown.
The Ranger and The Bull Elephant
One adventure will forever stay with me and I’ve recounted it dozens of times already: on one of our outings we came across a herd of elephants. A young bull started walking towards the Land Rover. As the elephant approached Walter told us to remain quiet, that he would deal with the situation. The elephant came to within a couple of feet of us on the passenger side. Walter started speaking, “Hey, boy, you’ve come over to say hello? OK, now, go back.” The elephant took two steps back and then flauntingly another step forward. Walter spoke more loudly and banged the vehicle with his hand upon which the elephant somewhat sheepishly stepped back and rejoined his group. To Walter’s immense credit I never had an ounce of fear—all as a result of the total confidence we had in him. From the very start he gave us to feel his total respect for and communion with the animals.
I was so totally immersed in our experience at Nedile that I had not a thought of any life before or after. The staff at the lodge was a big factor in our contentment. All the service people, except the guides, were Tswana or Venda, including the chef who prepared great buffets and sit-down dinners. All the food was superb. The produce was incredible: I had the best peaches and pineapple ever at their table.
Still floating on a cloud, we headed back to Johannesburg.
There I was warmly and hospitably received at the homes of Dee’s friends. Bronwen, an artist and teacher, owns a house in a ‘mixed’ neighbourhood and is committed to stay in the area as she loves the multicultural atmosphere. Clive, an international artist and curator, and his partner, Rocco, a well-known musician, are settled in a beautifully redesigned house and grounds. I felt welcomed everywhere and also privileged to be on the inside. The feelings I retain from my social exposure in Johannesburg, inside and out, remind me of the societal atmosphere in Montreal that prevailed in the 1960s during my college years when the English, though a small minority, still held dominion over the French Canadian population. Though major changes would soon come, as they have now in South Africa, both populations in Quebec took time to adapt. So too are the South Africans. Real change takes time. I was struck by many beautiful street scenes, but also troubled by the incredible crowdedness of the city’s black neighbourhoods and the living conditions in the townships. Although some areas had some nice houses, these were crowded onto minuscule properties, as were the shanties a few streets further..
When I took a tour of the townships I felt so intrusive, yet I know how important it is that the living conditions be seen first hand in order to precipitate change. But to see women doing laundry at a sort of water hole some few miles from a cosmopolitan centre, to see people fetch water at communal water taps, seemed so retrograde. It truly shocked me. If I had observed the same scenes in far-off areas
I would not have been so disturbed. But not so near to a modern and rich city. At the same time I found it incredibly moving to see people living such an archaic way of life yet keeping on day after day. The striking sight of the mini-bus taxis making the round trips from city centre to townships crowded to overcapacity with people who have no other option to get to work filled me with admiration and compassion. All that in plain sight of others going to work comfortably in their private cars.
From Johannesburg, I went on to Cape Town with great anticipation. All I’d heard of Cape Town was how beautiful it is. And it is so. My lovely hotel, right on the waterfront, with full view of Table Mountain, started my stay on the right note. Somehow, everything seemed to me sotto voce—the perfect weather, the perfect views. The next day, on an excursion to Cape Point, I met a fellow visitor from Edmonton, in Canada, a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police on assignment for the United Nations in Sierra Leone. After we talked a bit, he asked me if I had noticed what he had. He was totally astounded to observe that here he was in Africa and everybody around was white. And right he was. The fact is the only black people I came across in Cape Town—at the hotel, in the shops and on the various excursions and outings I took—were a few front-desk staff, some restaurant help and some public service workers. Most everyone I saw was white. It surprised me.
However, those observations could not take away the incredible experience of travelling to Cape Point, climbing up to the lighthouse and feeling truly at the tip of Africa. Looking out at this magnificent view, I felt such a sense of communion with the earth, the ocean and the sky, it brought me to a spiritual plane I can never forget. And again, the land in these parts: I found such wonderment in the trees, the wine lands, the penguin retreats, the seals sunning on their rocks.
My heart is filled with emotion as I write these lines. I am so grateful for the opportunity to have lived this experience. I do know that it has changed me. It opened new vistas outward and inward. All I can call for is more rapid progress to bring greater parity in living conditions. I wish for this with all my heart for this most beautiful country—South Africa.
— Lise Curry, Brooklyn New York
