I finally remembered the most important traveling lesson of all — let the place do what it does best. For Europe, it’s museums and culture. In Asia, it’s service and hospitality. For Africa, it’s not the cities. The geography, the natural beauty, and the incredible animals put Africa in a category all its own.
Excessive wind cancelled my tour of Robben Island so I’ve had a bit longer to study the situation. I visited the fantastic botonical gardens which helped me recall the kind of majestic beauty that is essentially African. I marveled at the flowers and trees set against the magnificent Table Mountain backdrop. This is Africa.
Now that I’ve readjusted my expectations, I want to share a Museum experience I loved despite the limitations of the museum itself. I was quite moved by a tour of the District Six Museum by one of its founders. The museum itself is a small collection of photographs and memorabilia of the multi-racial residents of this district which was declared “White Only” in 1966. For families like Noor’s, the information that they’d lose their homes and have to move cane in the newspaper one day. Brutal. The government then proceeded to move 60,000 people and bulldoze their homes, businesses, temples and mosques, presumably because District Six served to demonstrate how successfully different races and cultures could live together in Cape Town. That concept ran contrary to the strict segregationist views of the ruling government and, thus, had to be eradicated. Even sadder, it took twelve years to move everyone out and destroy this area in the heart of Cape Town but then nothing was built. Whites didn’t want to move in and build there, so it lay fallow for decades. My cab driver drove me through and it’s strange — a huge rubble filled section of the city, where you see faint traces of where houses and streets used to be. The post-Apartheid government has been singularly unsuccessful in restoring the area, with only a few hundred of the thousands of promised homes rebuilt. But Noor, the District Six Museum founder and tour guide of Indian Muslim descent, holds no animosity. He’s optimistic he’ll once again have a home in the District. Meanwhile, he’s hocking a book (which I would have bought but it’s out of print) and telling his story to visitors including the Queen of Spain and Michelle Obama (and me). Quiet hope and dignity in what could have been a sea of despair.
While I’m on the subject of dignity, let me say that I’m deeply impressed by the hustle I’ve seen demonstrated. Every cab driver I have offers to be my private driver for the day, giving me cards and What’s App numbers to call them on anytime for a ride. My morning driver tried to convince me to let him take me to the Cheetah Encounter thirty minutes outside of Cape Town where I could get up close and personal with a cheetah. Although I’d love to have a picture taken holding a baby cheetah, a quick google query convinced me that I really didn’t want any part of exploiting the animals in that way. Even my narcissism has its limits. Apparently, drugged and caged cheetahs are where I draw the line.
But I appreciated his offer and creativity— he’s not capturing cheetahs and can’t afford to sit in judgment of folks who may want to visit. That’s the hustle of the developing world where an opportunity to drive me around is one you really don’t want to pass up.
A few last thoughts before I sign off today. Apparently, the message that smoking kills hasn’t made its way here. People of all ages and races are puffing away. Even in outdoor restaurants. And I keep forgetting that they are trying to put more people to work so every task that would be mechanized or automated in the West requires two or more people here — ticket taking, car guards rather than parking meters, and so on.
The adventure continues.
Boonedoggler 