Sunday, May 23rd, 2010
And I couldn’t have asked for a better semester. The things I have had the privilege to experience, the people I’ve met, it’s been pretty damn good. With three days left I can’t help but reflect on how weird it will be to be home. I don’t want to pretend that Cape Town is “Africa” in all of it’s romanticized and wild glory – that would be way too… colonial. But that doesn’t take away from the things I’ve encountered that I just wouldn’t have seen if I chose a place like the UK (not to say it wouldn’t have been incredible). But my point is this: Cape Town, no matter how polished or Western the city, holds on to much of it’s history in interesting ways.
When I landed at the CPT airport in January, I was picked up by a family friend (she runs Shine Shine, check it out!) who drove me over to my house for the semester. I had been flying for 48 hours, been through JHB (Johannesburg) airport customs three different times, and was wide-eyed as could possibly be. On my drive from the airport (about 20 or 30 minutes from the city), I passed the N2 Gateway, a stretch of shacks that are impossible to not notice on the drive. Homeless people crossed four-lane highways at a snail’s pace. I had, of course, known, that it existed but it was different seeing it in the flesh. Not outraging so much as it was incredibly sad. I know now that I had driven through a couple of the many townships that surround Cape Town, a relic of the apartheid government that forcibly removed blacks and coloreds from their homes in the city. Ever see District 9? Based on Cape Town’s District 6′s forced removals.
A month or two later I was mugged around noon in my own neighborhood. A neighborhood that is incredibly residential on the scale of things. It wasn’t violent, and they left me with my license and my ATM cards, but definitely upsetting – after all, this was my neighborhood. I had been getting comfortable, and it was a healthy reminder to stay aware of my surroundings. Muggings can happen everywhere, but crime is a “reality” in this city. There is barbed-wire around most houses, and ADT security has a larger presence then the police. I leave in three days and I was just mugged this past Friday. But even though I’ve been mugged, even though this crime is seemingly “everywhere,” it certainly hasn’t colored my impression of Cape Town. On my flight down from London, an Afrikaans girl warned me about the crime. It was awful, she told me, I had to be safe. There are certain things you can’t do in Cape Town (walking home past sunset isn’t usually advised, certainly not for Americans), but it doesn’t something I will remember in a negative light.
Minibus taxis. Oh, how I love minibus taxis. Everything I ever read about Cape Town warned me against them – they were scary, wild, dangerous, and certainly not fit for tourists. Pish posh. Granted, there are no seatbelts, they are rickity, the drivers can be maniacs, and an unsurprisingly high portion of traffic accidents can involve minibusses, but man I love those things. 5R ($.80 USD) will get you almost anywhere in the city and there is nothing like a crowded minibus! You and 14 people in a tiny van, the driver honking every other second (literally – they have special triggers attached to the horn to make this easier), and the guardjie hanging out the window whistling and yelling the destination. The music is blasting (kwaito, reggae, or Ke$ha), and people are talking in languages you could never hope to understand. Want to know about what people really think about politics? Hop in a minibus and listen. Ride all day! They might be speaking Zulu or Xhosa, but you’ll hear their tone and recognize words. Mandela, Zuma, Malema, Xenophobia. That’s a big one. You may have heard about the nationalist violence that sprung up in 2008. Definitely a sensitive subject, and you’ll know it if an expat from another African nation decides to air his opinions on the matter. When you reach your destination, give a holler and try and find a way to get out without hitting more than a few people by accident. “Thank you, driver.” He’ll tell you “Thanks bru!” I don’t know if it’s because I’m white, but I always get the ‘bru’ (like ‘bro’) from them. I kind of like it.
Maybe I’ll continue this at some point, but for now I think this is enough. Cape Town: like everywhere else, but not like everywhere else. I have an exam in the morning, and as cathartic as this has been, I should probably get back to studying. Oh, and that sunset doesn’t have to do with this post, it’s just a nice sunset that I see from my house almost every other day.