RACIALISM AND LUCKY
Whilst the foregoing story about the church and the ‘attitude’ of some people toward Lucky does knock the white structures, there are other ways that Lucky has taught us what Racialism means.
People take an immediate liking to Charl. He has a very open and honest bearing treating grown-ups with deference but as equals. Most people find this refreshing in a child. Then he is also a lot bigger than other children his age.
Black people especially like him. They respect size, and they like the way he treats them as equals without being condescending.
When we had painters doing our house they tried to talk to Lucky in one of the vernacular languages, their assumption being that he is black and therefore that he would understand them. They could not understand why he only understood Afrikaans – as I explained, we also don’t have a great understanding of this. The point of the story being that they had preconceptions of blacks, preconceptions is really the basis of ‘racism’ – as it is the basis of most words that ends in “-ism”..
Occasionally we would spend a weekend at Sun City, staying in the Cabanas because they are cheapest.
A white family with a black child is unusual, and memorable. (Back in the mid. 1990’s).
At Sun City Cabanas there was a restaurant ‘Mabula’. When we went there for dinner on one of our stays the lady (black) that served us remembered Charl and Lucky
Having taken our table order, as she was leaving, she stroked Lucky’s head. He said ‘Sies’.
This response of disgust at being touched by a black’s hand from any of our children would have lead to a massive reprimand. Most white South Africans, and especially Afrikaners, would not tolerate such a show of racism from their children.
Our situation suddenly was very different: none of our white children would have had such a reaction, but Lucky had become a racist. He had become a bigger racist than the whites.
Remember he was about 7 years old.
Interestingly, he is now 22 and still does not like to be touched – by anyone. He is the least touchy-feely of all my children. So maybe it was not a racial thing and I am seeing this out of proportion. Anyway, this is the story.
Racism is obviously mostly a skin-colour thing.
But real-life in South Africa teaches one daily that it is not just as simple as that. Anti-Semitism is not skin-colour based; anti-Afrikanerism is not skin colour based. And in many respects there is as much racism practiced by Blacks on Blacks in the new- South Africa.
Lucky just felt that he is now in a new and different class to the black lady that was serving him? But then, we are talking about class-ism, which is just as wrong.
There is, off course the beautiful reverse-racist story of Rufus. I mentioned Rufus and his gardener dad earlier. I omitted to mention that Rufus entered the wrestling team, and became a provincial wrestler for his age group (under 9). Being a strong and tough little bugger Rufus also became the tight head prop for the Florida Afrikaans Primary School’s rugby team.
(Since Charl was the lock for the team this might have been the first instance in South Africa where a white was trying to shove his head up a black’s behind.)
Whilst Florida Afrikaans Primary School is not situated in one of the wealthier suburbs, it was also not situated in the poorest, but one of the neighbouring schools is in a very poor area and it is a well-known fact that the heart of anti-black-racism is in the poorer white areas.
So it came to pass that these two schools played a rugby match, and it was the first year that black children were in white schools. To make this rugby game more interesting was not only the fact that our schools team included two black children, but one was in the front row – i.e. in direct physical contact with the front row of our poorer, more conservative, neighbouring school.
Anybody with half a wit would have known that there would be some drama.
Whites believe that Blacks smell. This is one of the underlying preconceptions of racism.
Off course Blacks don’t smell bad, not naturally. Many Blacks mainly lived in non-electrified areas without running water and bathing facilities. Anyone that has to spend a lot of time around a campfire, without access to a bath, starts to smell of smoke.
We (the fathers of Florida Primary) all knew that something would happen at the rugby. We had all worked out our private strategies of what to do when it happens. Some were preparing themselves to make a statement and argue (with fists) that Rufus deserved his spot, and they will make sure he retains it. (My strategy was to silently disappear into a corner until the problem was sorted out.)
When the third scrum was called Rufus was blown up for popping out of the scrum. The referee called him aside to explain that when a prop pops up in a scrum a penalty has to be awarded to the other team.
This happened on scrum four and five.
When the referee again explained the problem to him, Rufus replied: “I can’t stay there – he stinks too much!”
One up for black props, and reverse racism!
Monday, March 30, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Lucky 4: WAS IT ALL FUN HAVING LUCKY?
Lucky 4: WAS IT ALL FUN HAVING LUCKY?
Not always.
Lenadri, our oldest daughter, thought she made it big time when the drum major of the school band asked her for a date.
Drum majors are so elected because they are handsome, have an upright posture, and they practice twirling the baton for hours because they think they are handsome, have good posture and might be elected drum majors.
It goes without saying that they are unusually arrogant individuals. And like for all arrogant individuals, girls think they are worth getting as boyfriends – but maybe I am only a simple jealous father believing that any boy who would think my daughters consider him to be great is an arrogant individual.
Lenadri’s relationship with the drum major was developing quite well when he suddenly announced that he was not willing to go out with a girl who has a kaffir living at her home.
Lenadri took this very well announcing that she did not want to talk to anyone who calls her brother a kaffir; a very mature view for a smitten Grade 6 girl!
The church was not as simple an issue.
We are members of the Afrikaans NG Kerk.
The church professed to be non-racial even before the country legalised non-racism, or rather un-legalised racism.
So that it could say that it is non-racist in a country where racism is legalised, the church had split itself into two: the church itself and the ‘missionary church’. The latter basically being black dominees (preachers), and their black congregation.
One would have thought that missionary work implies leaving one’s country to travel afar to countries where there are heathens among whom one can carry out missionary work. But the Afrikaans church did show concern for the local heathens, black people, and did missionary work among them on Sunday afternoons. Even if they were converted they remained in the missionary church rather than graduate to the main church.
Most parishes also had a ‘special service’ for maids, to demonstrate how they were spreading the word of God in the local community. (And, of course how liberal they were in their views of racism.)
This ‘maids’ service’ was never held at the same time as the main service (09h00 or 10h00), but around 15h00. This would allow the maids to clean the houses while their employers were at church, and then when the employers were having their afternoon sleep, the maids could go to church.
They did not come to the church itself, but rather just the church hall – I have not yet figured out the reason for this, other than that God shifted between the Church building and the Church hall during lunch time. It might also be that there are two Gods, one in the main church building and one who lives in the church hall. The NG Kerk never explained this to me.
The afternoon session for the maids was not conducted by the dominee, he had done his work that morning. It was generally conducted by one of the elders on a rotational basis, and comprised hymn singing. Presumably the ‘church hall God’ preferred music to sermons.
My friend Eon Smit – who is a professor, and therefore should know about these things – told me the joke of a non-white entering the white NG Kerk one Sunday during the sermon. Two of the deacons stood up to evict him, whereupon a great voice boomed through the church: “Don’t worry my son, I have not been allowed in there either”.
As Lucky increasingly stayed with us over weekends, we asked him to accompany us to church.
This raised eyebrows. Obviously one would expect this to happen, his was the only black face in church, other than the cleaning staff. But the cleaning staff was not there when the congregation was in the church. The cleaning staff went to the church hall in the afternoon with the rest of the people of colour.
Charl, like any Grade 2 child, did not really enjoy being woken on Sunday, forced into his Sunday best, marched off to a one-hour sermon that taxes grown-ups’ concentration, and then being herded into Sunday School for another hour while the grown-ups go home to recover from the sermon.
When Lucky started to live with us more-or-less full-time we approached the dominee to explain our problem: We had become ‘parentis in locus’ and are bringing this child to church as part of our responsibilities; but we had no official sanctioning of this, nor had the child been baptised, nor is he attending Sunday School – being a ‘visitor’. We told him we felt people were looking at us a bit funny, and would like to have an official directive from the church council that this was ‘OK’. We also asked if they would allow Lucky into the Sunday School.
The official answer was that the dominee saw nothing wrong with this, but that ‘some of his church councilors thought that some of the members of the congregation might have a problem’.
The standard run-around: Nobody would say ‘yes’, blaming everyone else for potentially being offended, whilst they largely meant they themselves would be offended.
One route open to us would have been to simply take Lucky to church, and then allow an issue to develop. However, we felt that we were not raising Lucky as a political statement. We did not want to take him to church to make a statement.
In any case we did not choose Lucky, he sort of chose us. He came to us and there was no one to give him back to. So we could not really claim that we were very liberal, or very Christian like for that matter, in raising him.
This left us in a very peculiar situation every Sunday morning: Forcing an unwilling Charl to go to Church, and telling a willing Lucky to stay home. Very difficult to explain to Charl why he couldn’t stay at home, like Lucky; and even more difficult to explain to Lucky why he couldn’t go to church, like Charl.
Fortunately a nearby congregation resolved the issue for us - Florida Afrikaans NG Kerk. We told friends about the ‘church problem’, who told the dominee at this church; he invited us to bring Lucky to the Sunday School.
Not always.
Lenadri, our oldest daughter, thought she made it big time when the drum major of the school band asked her for a date.
Drum majors are so elected because they are handsome, have an upright posture, and they practice twirling the baton for hours because they think they are handsome, have good posture and might be elected drum majors.
It goes without saying that they are unusually arrogant individuals. And like for all arrogant individuals, girls think they are worth getting as boyfriends – but maybe I am only a simple jealous father believing that any boy who would think my daughters consider him to be great is an arrogant individual.
Lenadri’s relationship with the drum major was developing quite well when he suddenly announced that he was not willing to go out with a girl who has a kaffir living at her home.
Lenadri took this very well announcing that she did not want to talk to anyone who calls her brother a kaffir; a very mature view for a smitten Grade 6 girl!
The church was not as simple an issue.
We are members of the Afrikaans NG Kerk.
The church professed to be non-racial even before the country legalised non-racism, or rather un-legalised racism.
So that it could say that it is non-racist in a country where racism is legalised, the church had split itself into two: the church itself and the ‘missionary church’. The latter basically being black dominees (preachers), and their black congregation.
One would have thought that missionary work implies leaving one’s country to travel afar to countries where there are heathens among whom one can carry out missionary work. But the Afrikaans church did show concern for the local heathens, black people, and did missionary work among them on Sunday afternoons. Even if they were converted they remained in the missionary church rather than graduate to the main church.
Most parishes also had a ‘special service’ for maids, to demonstrate how they were spreading the word of God in the local community. (And, of course how liberal they were in their views of racism.)
This ‘maids’ service’ was never held at the same time as the main service (09h00 or 10h00), but around 15h00. This would allow the maids to clean the houses while their employers were at church, and then when the employers were having their afternoon sleep, the maids could go to church.
They did not come to the church itself, but rather just the church hall – I have not yet figured out the reason for this, other than that God shifted between the Church building and the Church hall during lunch time. It might also be that there are two Gods, one in the main church building and one who lives in the church hall. The NG Kerk never explained this to me.
The afternoon session for the maids was not conducted by the dominee, he had done his work that morning. It was generally conducted by one of the elders on a rotational basis, and comprised hymn singing. Presumably the ‘church hall God’ preferred music to sermons.
My friend Eon Smit – who is a professor, and therefore should know about these things – told me the joke of a non-white entering the white NG Kerk one Sunday during the sermon. Two of the deacons stood up to evict him, whereupon a great voice boomed through the church: “Don’t worry my son, I have not been allowed in there either”.
As Lucky increasingly stayed with us over weekends, we asked him to accompany us to church.
This raised eyebrows. Obviously one would expect this to happen, his was the only black face in church, other than the cleaning staff. But the cleaning staff was not there when the congregation was in the church. The cleaning staff went to the church hall in the afternoon with the rest of the people of colour.
Charl, like any Grade 2 child, did not really enjoy being woken on Sunday, forced into his Sunday best, marched off to a one-hour sermon that taxes grown-ups’ concentration, and then being herded into Sunday School for another hour while the grown-ups go home to recover from the sermon.
When Lucky started to live with us more-or-less full-time we approached the dominee to explain our problem: We had become ‘parentis in locus’ and are bringing this child to church as part of our responsibilities; but we had no official sanctioning of this, nor had the child been baptised, nor is he attending Sunday School – being a ‘visitor’. We told him we felt people were looking at us a bit funny, and would like to have an official directive from the church council that this was ‘OK’. We also asked if they would allow Lucky into the Sunday School.
The official answer was that the dominee saw nothing wrong with this, but that ‘some of his church councilors thought that some of the members of the congregation might have a problem’.
The standard run-around: Nobody would say ‘yes’, blaming everyone else for potentially being offended, whilst they largely meant they themselves would be offended.
One route open to us would have been to simply take Lucky to church, and then allow an issue to develop. However, we felt that we were not raising Lucky as a political statement. We did not want to take him to church to make a statement.
In any case we did not choose Lucky, he sort of chose us. He came to us and there was no one to give him back to. So we could not really claim that we were very liberal, or very Christian like for that matter, in raising him.
This left us in a very peculiar situation every Sunday morning: Forcing an unwilling Charl to go to Church, and telling a willing Lucky to stay home. Very difficult to explain to Charl why he couldn’t stay at home, like Lucky; and even more difficult to explain to Lucky why he couldn’t go to church, like Charl.
Fortunately a nearby congregation resolved the issue for us - Florida Afrikaans NG Kerk. We told friends about the ‘church problem’, who told the dominee at this church; he invited us to bring Lucky to the Sunday School.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Lucky 3: First Multi-Racial Election in South Africa
THE FIRST ELECTION IN THE NEW MULTIRACIAL SOUTH AFRICA
At the time that Lucky came to stay with us the country was entering its new era and the first multi-racial elections were looming.
The white National Party, having been in power since 1948, having legalized apartheid and having driven the reforms against apartheid (splitting into several right wing parties) and having called a referendum, now had to contest an open election.
No one expected them to really win, but then politicians never agree with a popular view, at least not when the popular view is that their party will not win.
It became a bit of a joke: White Afrikaner politicians, who had their parliament seats because the electorate in the past was white (the English people voted for the National party as hard as the Afrikaners, they just did not say that they did); now had to canvass for votes in the Black areas.
They did not live in the black areas, most of them had never been there in their lives, cannot speak the language of the voters, etc.
In the Old South Africa a Member of Parliament represented a specific constituency, and was supposed to look after the interest of the community that voted him into parliament. This really meant that the Member of Parliament was sort of also looking after the black people in the constituency, but they had no vote so they were not really important to the Member.
What happened in practice was that there always were some very safe seats, constituencies where the party can rely on winning the vote. These were often given to senior party members, who did not necessarily live in the constituency.
Sounds like normal politics? Nothing really changed in South Africa since then in any case, few ANC politicians live where their voters live, in fact they do not represent a specific constituency in any case. The different parties are allocated a number of seats in parliament to be filled from their lists in terms of seniority. Thereby members are relieved from having to worry about the concerns of a specific constituency, and obviously the need to live among the constituents.
It is, of course, an interesting thought that in the New South Africa there is no more racism. This means that anyone can theoretically live in any area they like. In practice the black people of South Africa still live in the mainly black poorer areas that they lived in before. The New South Africa members of parliament live in the affluent areas, which are still predominantly white areas. But, since their constituents can theoretically also live there the politicians cannot be accused of not living in their constituencies.
However, back to the story about the elections and the National Party MPs that had to canvass votes in the black areas inside their constituencies where they have never been, and cannot even speak the language.
These politicians now had to make a show of trying to gain votes in the Black Areas.
We were friends with the Jan and Annette Bredenkamp. Jan Bredenkamp was the Member of Parliament for Florida – where he lived. It now fell on him to go and canvass votes in the Black townships.
Like a good White Afrikaans South African Male, he co-opted his wife.
(In fact, if I left out the words: “White, South African, Afrikaans” in the above sentence and just left the word “Male” the sentence would still be correct. I have discovered that White, South African, Afrikaans males are no different from other males anywhere in the world.)
So it came to pass that Annette was asked by the National Party to attend a rally inside Soweto. Soweto is Johannesburg’s sister city, which contains probably more people that the greater Johannesburg area, all of them black.
Most white people have never been inside Soweto and believe that it looks like some of the slums we see on television, like Harlem in New York. It is in fact not as bad, but it still is not a desirable area to live in.
A common joke in the Old South Africa was that the most suicidal thing a white person can do is to skateboard through Soweto singing “This Land is My Land!”
Many whites worked (and still work) in Soweto, and there was even a nightclub area that was known as “white by night”. I cannot remember any reports about a white person being mugged or treated badly in Soweto. But, for most whites Soweto was an area to be avoided.
So it came to pass that Annette had to go to a political rally for the National Party (what used to be the white apartheid party, and which is now trying to reposition itself as a party for the people) inside Soweto. Hearing about this Mariki, always game for some fun, decided to accompany her, and to take our two sons so they can see the reality of Soweto and politics.
Surprising as it might sound there were a large number of black people supporting the National Party and even were promoting the National Party in the run-up to the election. I cannot speculate as to their reasoning, but I was introduced to some and they were not uneducated or obviously retarded. They must have had their reasons in terms of how they saw the future of the country.
The black National Party politicians met Annette and Mariki at the border of Soweto, with a police escort. A police escort would not have been necessary for any whites in Soweto. Since no one could have guessed that they were representing the National Party it was not necessary to escort them either. The escort was there because this was politics.
After a few miles into Soweto the police started to talk anxiously on the radio in their car, and explained that the National Party convoy of two cars must turn around immediately. There was a political march (riot) on its way and their lives are in danger.
But, by then it was too late.
In South Africa when blacks ‘march for political reasons’ they toy-toy. Toy toying is a sort of dance step that involves jerking the knees high, waving the arms and ululating at a high pitch. This is common to all countries of Africa. This particular crowd was toy-toying to celebrate the expected victories of the ANC over the white National party in the coming elections.
Before Mariki and Annette’s convoy could be turned around the toy-toying mass was upon them. Leaving two white women and two children of whom one was black separated from the police vehicle that was there to protect them.
In any movie produced by Hollywood about Africa this would have been the making for a great slaughter of white women and children. The only thing that could have topped the dramatic potential of this moment would have been if it were white nuns in the car.
The crowd simply continued past the car.
A few noticed Lucky in the car and bent down to shout at him. Presumably that he should not be sitting in the car with a lot of whites. The person that was the most scared at the end of this experience was probably Lucky.
So they arrived at the National Party rally being conducted at a school hall where a lot of potential black supporters were waiting to hear the National Party promises for the coming elections.
Naturally being the only white women – in fact the only whites – they were the guests of honour and introduced to every dignitary at the function.
And this is where we get to the point of this story. Remember that we started of by saying how much grown ups respond positively to Charl and Lucky?
What struck Mariki was that as they were moved down the line being introduced to the dignitaries – first Annette, then Mariki, then Charl and then Lucky – there was enthusiastic hand-shaking by all the dignitaries and very friendly conversation with all except Lucky.
After the speeches there was tea and biscuits for all, where Mariki commented to one of the women (black) that both Charl and Lucky did the right thing: they stepped up to the dignitary they are introduced to, offered a hand to be shaken, and looked them openly in their eyes. But Luckys offer was received with less enthusiasm than Charls.
She explained that Mariki has to understand how difficult it is to change cultures when the person that you are addressing is the same skin colour as yourself, or is obviously of the same culture as yourself.
To the black dignitaries at the meeting Charls behaviour was exactly what they expected and respected. As a result they responded positively to him. However, because Lucky was black they expected a different behaviour from him, and when his behaviour was white rather than black they were ill at ease and even confused.
To me this was an important lesson, and one I believe will stand all of us in good stead. So I will expand on this.
I started my own business back in 1984 and the fifth person that joined the company was Kenny Magobathu in 1985 as the driver. He is still the driver of the company 19 years later. In fact, as part of the company’s BEE Enterprize Development he now is the shareholder and director of a courier business financed by the company.
When he had worked for the company for about a decade I felt that we have sort of mutual respect and friendship – the type that develop when one works with someone for a long time.
It then started to bother me that when he needs the keys to my car to fill it with petrol he will not come and take it of my desk, but always ask someone else to get it.
It also bothered me that when he speaks to me he would seldom look me in the eyes, mostly looking down and occasionally glancing up. To my mind someone with integrity would look you straight in the eye, not deviously look at the ground all the time.
I asked my secretary to have a word with Kenny to change his behaviour because I don’t think he is a devious person, nor do I see the need for him to ask other people to speak on his behalf, or collect the car keys on his behalf for that matter. I was quite upset.
Kenny told my secretary to explain to me that he absolutely respects and love me. In fact he sees me as his father. In his culture however the body language is different from ours.
To look a person straight in the yes is a challenge, not a sign of respect. Similarly to stick out your hand and have a firm handshake is a challenge of power. Even to make a request directly to a person that you respect, and have the power to grant this wish to you is disrespectful – rather ask via another person that has his ear.
In fact this African custom is much closer to nature than our westernized custom of looking people straight in the eye. In nature when two males of a species (say dogs) meet then one will look away. If they both look each other straight in the eye they are issuing a challenge. Even with dogs you can demonstrate your dominance of a dog by looking him straight in the eye, but if it is a strange dog with a bad temperament then dog trainers advise you to look down and avoid prolonged eye contact.
It is the culture of black Africans that when they offer you something and you accept, they will thank you for accepting it. Black Africans do not stick their hands out aggressively to be shaken, they do not try to issue a challenge by giving you a firm grip, and they are not aggressively looking you straight in the eye when they do all these other aggressive things. The white Africans have not learned about this culture of the blacks.
This is a little anthropological lesson. But Charl and Luckys meeting with the black dignitaries in Soweto have a more profound lesson.
The dignitaries were expecting Charl to stick his hand out, look them in the eye and give a firm handshake, speak to them first saying ‘hello’ because he is white and that is the way that whites behave.
The dignitaries were expecting Lucky to not stick out his hand, to not say anything until spoken to, to not have a firm aggressive handshake, to not challenge them by looking them straight in the eye because he is black and this is how black children behave.
Black people have learned how to respond to white people by behaving like white people in terms of handshakes and eye contact. They understand the cultural differences, and adapt as and when required. White people have been slow at learning these things in South Africa – largely because they had no need to. They ascribed these things to customs rather than culture.
Lucky, at that stage, did not have a black culture, and was only starting to be introduced into a culture of sorts – white.
The dignitaries, even knowing that Lucky came to the meeting with whites, and that he lives with Mariki and Charl who behaved like whites could not adapt to a black child exhibiting a white culture. This, to my mind is again a form of racism – i.e. generalizing from the outward appearance what the behaviours would be like.
At the time that Lucky came to stay with us the country was entering its new era and the first multi-racial elections were looming.
The white National Party, having been in power since 1948, having legalized apartheid and having driven the reforms against apartheid (splitting into several right wing parties) and having called a referendum, now had to contest an open election.
No one expected them to really win, but then politicians never agree with a popular view, at least not when the popular view is that their party will not win.
It became a bit of a joke: White Afrikaner politicians, who had their parliament seats because the electorate in the past was white (the English people voted for the National party as hard as the Afrikaners, they just did not say that they did); now had to canvass for votes in the Black areas.
They did not live in the black areas, most of them had never been there in their lives, cannot speak the language of the voters, etc.
In the Old South Africa a Member of Parliament represented a specific constituency, and was supposed to look after the interest of the community that voted him into parliament. This really meant that the Member of Parliament was sort of also looking after the black people in the constituency, but they had no vote so they were not really important to the Member.
What happened in practice was that there always were some very safe seats, constituencies where the party can rely on winning the vote. These were often given to senior party members, who did not necessarily live in the constituency.
Sounds like normal politics? Nothing really changed in South Africa since then in any case, few ANC politicians live where their voters live, in fact they do not represent a specific constituency in any case. The different parties are allocated a number of seats in parliament to be filled from their lists in terms of seniority. Thereby members are relieved from having to worry about the concerns of a specific constituency, and obviously the need to live among the constituents.
It is, of course, an interesting thought that in the New South Africa there is no more racism. This means that anyone can theoretically live in any area they like. In practice the black people of South Africa still live in the mainly black poorer areas that they lived in before. The New South Africa members of parliament live in the affluent areas, which are still predominantly white areas. But, since their constituents can theoretically also live there the politicians cannot be accused of not living in their constituencies.
However, back to the story about the elections and the National Party MPs that had to canvass votes in the black areas inside their constituencies where they have never been, and cannot even speak the language.
These politicians now had to make a show of trying to gain votes in the Black Areas.
We were friends with the Jan and Annette Bredenkamp. Jan Bredenkamp was the Member of Parliament for Florida – where he lived. It now fell on him to go and canvass votes in the Black townships.
Like a good White Afrikaans South African Male, he co-opted his wife.
(In fact, if I left out the words: “White, South African, Afrikaans” in the above sentence and just left the word “Male” the sentence would still be correct. I have discovered that White, South African, Afrikaans males are no different from other males anywhere in the world.)
So it came to pass that Annette was asked by the National Party to attend a rally inside Soweto. Soweto is Johannesburg’s sister city, which contains probably more people that the greater Johannesburg area, all of them black.
Most white people have never been inside Soweto and believe that it looks like some of the slums we see on television, like Harlem in New York. It is in fact not as bad, but it still is not a desirable area to live in.
A common joke in the Old South Africa was that the most suicidal thing a white person can do is to skateboard through Soweto singing “This Land is My Land!”
Many whites worked (and still work) in Soweto, and there was even a nightclub area that was known as “white by night”. I cannot remember any reports about a white person being mugged or treated badly in Soweto. But, for most whites Soweto was an area to be avoided.
So it came to pass that Annette had to go to a political rally for the National Party (what used to be the white apartheid party, and which is now trying to reposition itself as a party for the people) inside Soweto. Hearing about this Mariki, always game for some fun, decided to accompany her, and to take our two sons so they can see the reality of Soweto and politics.
Surprising as it might sound there were a large number of black people supporting the National Party and even were promoting the National Party in the run-up to the election. I cannot speculate as to their reasoning, but I was introduced to some and they were not uneducated or obviously retarded. They must have had their reasons in terms of how they saw the future of the country.
The black National Party politicians met Annette and Mariki at the border of Soweto, with a police escort. A police escort would not have been necessary for any whites in Soweto. Since no one could have guessed that they were representing the National Party it was not necessary to escort them either. The escort was there because this was politics.
After a few miles into Soweto the police started to talk anxiously on the radio in their car, and explained that the National Party convoy of two cars must turn around immediately. There was a political march (riot) on its way and their lives are in danger.
But, by then it was too late.
In South Africa when blacks ‘march for political reasons’ they toy-toy. Toy toying is a sort of dance step that involves jerking the knees high, waving the arms and ululating at a high pitch. This is common to all countries of Africa. This particular crowd was toy-toying to celebrate the expected victories of the ANC over the white National party in the coming elections.
Before Mariki and Annette’s convoy could be turned around the toy-toying mass was upon them. Leaving two white women and two children of whom one was black separated from the police vehicle that was there to protect them.
In any movie produced by Hollywood about Africa this would have been the making for a great slaughter of white women and children. The only thing that could have topped the dramatic potential of this moment would have been if it were white nuns in the car.
The crowd simply continued past the car.
A few noticed Lucky in the car and bent down to shout at him. Presumably that he should not be sitting in the car with a lot of whites. The person that was the most scared at the end of this experience was probably Lucky.
So they arrived at the National Party rally being conducted at a school hall where a lot of potential black supporters were waiting to hear the National Party promises for the coming elections.
Naturally being the only white women – in fact the only whites – they were the guests of honour and introduced to every dignitary at the function.
And this is where we get to the point of this story. Remember that we started of by saying how much grown ups respond positively to Charl and Lucky?
What struck Mariki was that as they were moved down the line being introduced to the dignitaries – first Annette, then Mariki, then Charl and then Lucky – there was enthusiastic hand-shaking by all the dignitaries and very friendly conversation with all except Lucky.
After the speeches there was tea and biscuits for all, where Mariki commented to one of the women (black) that both Charl and Lucky did the right thing: they stepped up to the dignitary they are introduced to, offered a hand to be shaken, and looked them openly in their eyes. But Luckys offer was received with less enthusiasm than Charls.
She explained that Mariki has to understand how difficult it is to change cultures when the person that you are addressing is the same skin colour as yourself, or is obviously of the same culture as yourself.
To the black dignitaries at the meeting Charls behaviour was exactly what they expected and respected. As a result they responded positively to him. However, because Lucky was black they expected a different behaviour from him, and when his behaviour was white rather than black they were ill at ease and even confused.
To me this was an important lesson, and one I believe will stand all of us in good stead. So I will expand on this.
I started my own business back in 1984 and the fifth person that joined the company was Kenny Magobathu in 1985 as the driver. He is still the driver of the company 19 years later. In fact, as part of the company’s BEE Enterprize Development he now is the shareholder and director of a courier business financed by the company.
When he had worked for the company for about a decade I felt that we have sort of mutual respect and friendship – the type that develop when one works with someone for a long time.
It then started to bother me that when he needs the keys to my car to fill it with petrol he will not come and take it of my desk, but always ask someone else to get it.
It also bothered me that when he speaks to me he would seldom look me in the eyes, mostly looking down and occasionally glancing up. To my mind someone with integrity would look you straight in the eye, not deviously look at the ground all the time.
I asked my secretary to have a word with Kenny to change his behaviour because I don’t think he is a devious person, nor do I see the need for him to ask other people to speak on his behalf, or collect the car keys on his behalf for that matter. I was quite upset.
Kenny told my secretary to explain to me that he absolutely respects and love me. In fact he sees me as his father. In his culture however the body language is different from ours.
To look a person straight in the yes is a challenge, not a sign of respect. Similarly to stick out your hand and have a firm handshake is a challenge of power. Even to make a request directly to a person that you respect, and have the power to grant this wish to you is disrespectful – rather ask via another person that has his ear.
In fact this African custom is much closer to nature than our westernized custom of looking people straight in the eye. In nature when two males of a species (say dogs) meet then one will look away. If they both look each other straight in the eye they are issuing a challenge. Even with dogs you can demonstrate your dominance of a dog by looking him straight in the eye, but if it is a strange dog with a bad temperament then dog trainers advise you to look down and avoid prolonged eye contact.
It is the culture of black Africans that when they offer you something and you accept, they will thank you for accepting it. Black Africans do not stick their hands out aggressively to be shaken, they do not try to issue a challenge by giving you a firm grip, and they are not aggressively looking you straight in the eye when they do all these other aggressive things. The white Africans have not learned about this culture of the blacks.
This is a little anthropological lesson. But Charl and Luckys meeting with the black dignitaries in Soweto have a more profound lesson.
The dignitaries were expecting Charl to stick his hand out, look them in the eye and give a firm handshake, speak to them first saying ‘hello’ because he is white and that is the way that whites behave.
The dignitaries were expecting Lucky to not stick out his hand, to not say anything until spoken to, to not have a firm aggressive handshake, to not challenge them by looking them straight in the eye because he is black and this is how black children behave.
Black people have learned how to respond to white people by behaving like white people in terms of handshakes and eye contact. They understand the cultural differences, and adapt as and when required. White people have been slow at learning these things in South Africa – largely because they had no need to. They ascribed these things to customs rather than culture.
Lucky, at that stage, did not have a black culture, and was only starting to be introduced into a culture of sorts – white.
The dignitaries, even knowing that Lucky came to the meeting with whites, and that he lives with Mariki and Charl who behaved like whites could not adapt to a black child exhibiting a white culture. This, to my mind is again a form of racism – i.e. generalizing from the outward appearance what the behaviours would be like.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Lucky 2
LUCKY LEARNS TO SWIM
When we bought our house it came with one of the largest swimming pools in Johannesburg. The deep-end is about 9 feet deep.
The house itself is a split-level, with a balcony overlooking the swimming pool. From this balcony the only way to reach the swimming pool is by going through the house itself.
On one of Lucky’s first visits to Charl they asked Mariki whether they could go for a swim. Lucky assured her that he could swim very well.
Off course Lucky had never seen a swimming pool, in fact it is unlikely that he has seen a bath before, and as far as he was concerned it was just another puddle of water.
Charl took of like a rocket, trying to create the biggest splash he could in the pool – with his size he is able to create big splashes. A secret for a big splash is that you need to jump into the deep end so that you do not crash in the floor of the pool.
Lucky did the same thing, and also in the deep end. This is how he discovered that one does not naturally float on 9 feet of water, nor learn how to swim instantaneously.
Mariki was watching all of this from the balcony, from where, as I mentioned, one has to run through the whole house to get to the pool. Not only did Lucky go down, but he also did not come up. It is a myth that one goes down three times. Lucky went down once.
He did, however, rise towards the top. His rise stopped about six inches from the top, from where he looked up. From the balcony, looking down on the drowning Lucky, all one could see was a black face with white protruding teeth and two very big white eyes.
Charl saved his live using the pool cleaner to catch lucky and fish him out of the pool.
THE MEANING OF ‘ENVIRONMENTALLY DISADVANTAGED’
In our household the telephone is a very important piece of equipment. It is virtually impossible to call us because the instrument is in constant use: We have two daughters, who have friends, who have boyfriends, etc. Any parent will know about this.
Mariki views the telephone as her lifeline to … , well, life.
When the phone rings in our house one would expect that all the women (at least) and possibly all the boys also, would rush to the phone because they all hope that the call would be for them.
Unfortunately this is not the way it works.
When the phone rings everybody starts to shout at everybody else to answer the phone. In practice this mean that seven people shout at six people at the same time to answer the phone, while the same seven people do nothing about the phone ringing. Seven people then gets upset that everybody else is doing nothing to answer the phone, and then start to shout at everybody else louder and more agitated.
Mostly by the time that anyone answered the phone, the caller has rung-off. At which stage everybody accuses everybody else for being to lazy to answer the phone, while everybody explains why he or she was too busy to answer the phone.
The simple ringing of a telephone in our household can lead to quite an extended period of acrimony – even if it was just a wrong-number or time-share sales person.
However when children are still young most children are quite keen to answer the telephone. It seems like they think it is a grown-up thing to do. Unfortunately this enthusiasm exists only while they are too young to receiving their own calls, once they are old enough to get their own calls they lose this enthusiasm.
At the time that Lucky started living with us, Charl was still in grade 2 and quite keen to answer the telephone. This was something that obviously fascinated Lucky.
We learned what it meant to be ‘environmentally disadvantaged’ when the telephone rang, and amidst all the resultant shouting Mariki saw Lucky walking past the instrument, ignoring it. She shouted: “Answer the phone!”.
Without lifting the receiver he said, towards the telephone: “Hello?…Hello?”, with a big frown because the machine did not stop ringing.
We always thought that when black politicians talk about ‘environmentally disadvantaged’ they talk about the lack of lighting and facilities to learn. We never realised that they meant that the children were not brought up with instruments like telephones in their homes, and have no idea how these work.
So when a teacher uses the word telephone in a class of black children then the children will not know what she is talking about!
Rufus is another black student that entered Florida Afrikaans Primary School the same year as Lucky. His father is a gardener for a white widower in the area, and the widower paid for Rufus to attend the school. As part of the school-preparedness tests that all prospective grade 1’s undergo they are shown pictures and asked to talk about them.
Rufus, when shown a picture of a horse and asked what it does said: “They are used by the Kaffirs to herd sheep”.
In South Africa the word ‘kaffir’ is as politically incorrect as the word ‘nigger’ is in the USA. Even my spell check does not recognize the word ‘kaffir’, although it does appear in the 18th century edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica.
When we bought our house it came with one of the largest swimming pools in Johannesburg. The deep-end is about 9 feet deep.
The house itself is a split-level, with a balcony overlooking the swimming pool. From this balcony the only way to reach the swimming pool is by going through the house itself.
On one of Lucky’s first visits to Charl they asked Mariki whether they could go for a swim. Lucky assured her that he could swim very well.
Off course Lucky had never seen a swimming pool, in fact it is unlikely that he has seen a bath before, and as far as he was concerned it was just another puddle of water.
Charl took of like a rocket, trying to create the biggest splash he could in the pool – with his size he is able to create big splashes. A secret for a big splash is that you need to jump into the deep end so that you do not crash in the floor of the pool.
Lucky did the same thing, and also in the deep end. This is how he discovered that one does not naturally float on 9 feet of water, nor learn how to swim instantaneously.
Mariki was watching all of this from the balcony, from where, as I mentioned, one has to run through the whole house to get to the pool. Not only did Lucky go down, but he also did not come up. It is a myth that one goes down three times. Lucky went down once.
He did, however, rise towards the top. His rise stopped about six inches from the top, from where he looked up. From the balcony, looking down on the drowning Lucky, all one could see was a black face with white protruding teeth and two very big white eyes.
Charl saved his live using the pool cleaner to catch lucky and fish him out of the pool.
THE MEANING OF ‘ENVIRONMENTALLY DISADVANTAGED’
In our household the telephone is a very important piece of equipment. It is virtually impossible to call us because the instrument is in constant use: We have two daughters, who have friends, who have boyfriends, etc. Any parent will know about this.
Mariki views the telephone as her lifeline to … , well, life.
When the phone rings in our house one would expect that all the women (at least) and possibly all the boys also, would rush to the phone because they all hope that the call would be for them.
Unfortunately this is not the way it works.
When the phone rings everybody starts to shout at everybody else to answer the phone. In practice this mean that seven people shout at six people at the same time to answer the phone, while the same seven people do nothing about the phone ringing. Seven people then gets upset that everybody else is doing nothing to answer the phone, and then start to shout at everybody else louder and more agitated.
Mostly by the time that anyone answered the phone, the caller has rung-off. At which stage everybody accuses everybody else for being to lazy to answer the phone, while everybody explains why he or she was too busy to answer the phone.
The simple ringing of a telephone in our household can lead to quite an extended period of acrimony – even if it was just a wrong-number or time-share sales person.
However when children are still young most children are quite keen to answer the telephone. It seems like they think it is a grown-up thing to do. Unfortunately this enthusiasm exists only while they are too young to receiving their own calls, once they are old enough to get their own calls they lose this enthusiasm.
At the time that Lucky started living with us, Charl was still in grade 2 and quite keen to answer the telephone. This was something that obviously fascinated Lucky.
We learned what it meant to be ‘environmentally disadvantaged’ when the telephone rang, and amidst all the resultant shouting Mariki saw Lucky walking past the instrument, ignoring it. She shouted: “Answer the phone!”.
Without lifting the receiver he said, towards the telephone: “Hello?…Hello?”, with a big frown because the machine did not stop ringing.
We always thought that when black politicians talk about ‘environmentally disadvantaged’ they talk about the lack of lighting and facilities to learn. We never realised that they meant that the children were not brought up with instruments like telephones in their homes, and have no idea how these work.
So when a teacher uses the word telephone in a class of black children then the children will not know what she is talking about!
Rufus is another black student that entered Florida Afrikaans Primary School the same year as Lucky. His father is a gardener for a white widower in the area, and the widower paid for Rufus to attend the school. As part of the school-preparedness tests that all prospective grade 1’s undergo they are shown pictures and asked to talk about them.
Rufus, when shown a picture of a horse and asked what it does said: “They are used by the Kaffirs to herd sheep”.
In South Africa the word ‘kaffir’ is as politically incorrect as the word ‘nigger’ is in the USA. Even my spell check does not recognize the word ‘kaffir’, although it does appear in the 18th century edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica.
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