The Issue of Race

Hello everybody! Sorry it has been so long since I've left any stories. I have been busy adjusting to my new life and so much has happened that it was difficult to pick something to write about, while excluding other interesting stories. So I chose to write about the issue of race, and some reactions to me being a white man and an American living here in South Africa. Here are three stories that happened in the past week, many more like this have happened. I left most of my reactions and feelings out of the story on purpose, your own reactions might add to the story and the experience of being here. I attended a Braai (a South African Bar B Q) last week. I had no idea what the occasion was until the evening had almost finished; no one told me or had an answer. when I asked. It turned out a girl was turning 11 years old. Birthday cake here I come. We were at her grandmothers house, and children and grandchildren made for a warm atmosphere. Next to the granny’s home is separate living quarters, where one of her sons lives. I was invited in to have a seat. The son started up a conversation with me. A man several years older than myself, he had had a few drinks, but was not offensive. He began telling me about Mandela. He had the privilege of meeting Mandela twice. His eyes moistened when speaking of election day in 1994. He said, while holding onto my arm, “things have really changed. I never thought I would be sitting here in my house having a conversation with a white man.” How do you respond to a statement like this? I was returning from town on a koombie (a fifteen seat public taxi). It was my second time alone on public transport since arriving. A man sitting next to me was having difficulty with the asking a question in isiZulu. He was black and I was surprised that he was in KZN and unable to speak isiZulu. He looked and me and said, “man its rough being a foreigner, huh?” You are preaching to the choir, I thought to myself. “Yeah, it is,” I smiled. “Where are you from?” “Lesotho,” he replied. “You are obviously American, since you don’t seem to be bothered by sitting in a taxi with all black people.” I don’t remember how I responded to this conversation. I was on another koombie with two friends, cousins of my host family. I went around with them to run errands, simply for something to do. A white man on a koombie is an unusual sight. As we were exiting, the man who collects money and tells people where to sit asked my cousin if I was her husband. As she has a great sense of humour, she told him yes. He responded by saying that we would have beautiful coloured babies. The term coloured is used here in South Africa to describe a person of mixed race and is not offensive. In fact, it was at some level of status during apartheid. The issue of race in South Africa is unlike any other country I have experienced. It is a daily issue, manifest in conversation, thought, reaction, behaviour and comment. These comments are made in a matter of fact way. In the U.S. they might bring a ‘politically incorrect’ label. Here it seems to be just a comment left on the consciousness of a post-apartheid society.