Our South African itinerary is replete with classic tourist encounters (“Stop the jeep – I want a shot of that lion!”), but my companion and I are determined to experience the other side of the tourist track.
How can we travel this distance without delving into the tragic history of this beautiful country? Mindful of the risk, we use a bonded agency to book a tour into the heart of where young South African revolutionaries lost their lives: Soweto.
Soweto is an acronym for south west townships. The story goes, however, that when the black residents were rounded up and taken from their homes to be forcibly relocated, they asked in bewilderment, “So, where to?”
A brand new, freshly washed car pulls up on schedule. Our driver, who doubles as our guide, wears starched chinos, a pastel-coloured polo shirt and a deferential smile. Samuel’s commentary begins immediately but it takes a few minutes for me to adjust to the accent specific to his tribe’s dialect. He tells us there are approximately three million people, mostly black, living in 89 townships which make up greater Soweto.
It is late afternoon and we are parched. Resisting a tourist watering hole, we convince Samuel to take us to a local eatery. It’s filled with well-dressed business people, black and white, in mixed groups, cell phones in hand. The buffet is unappealing by North American standards, but apparently far better than what Samuel is used to. Although he interacts comfortably with us in all manner of situation, another sign of the wide chasm between us surfaces as we move to our table. Despite our shared experiences and meaningful conversations of the preceding hours, he insists on sitting separately. The laws have changed but we are all still subject to the remnants of an apartheid society.
After lunch, Samuel mentions that he lives nearby. We are thrilled when he agrees to drive us through his neighbourhood. His aunt is working behind the counter of a convenience store and greets him in warm surprise. Children run alongside the car, waving excitedly. In the sunlight, Samuel’s home looks shockingly similar to the shanties we just left. New car and nice clothes notwithstanding, Samuel has not quite risen above the poverty of Soweto.
Samuel, like so many others, is striving for something better for his family, both now and in coming generations. I wish him well in his struggle and am grateful to him for sharing an intimate snapshot of his life.