Week 3: The On-going History of Slavery in South Africa

By Adelina Alcaraz  

Our week started with a powerful tour informing us of the history of slavery in the Cape. As we went on our tour, we were informed that the places are ancestral grounds belonging to the Coy and Sun tribe. Common amongst colonization stories, when the colonizers came to Cape Town, they did not distinguish people by the various and divergent tribes, but simply by the color of their skin. It was better for colonizers to not use the Coy and Sun as slaves from the beginning. However, when slavery did come to the Cape, it came with a great force. Among the imported slaves were tens of thousands of children.

Small slave memorial in Cape Town

Later, our tour guides pointed out the surprisingly small memorials of slavery in Cape Town which exhibits the problem of being ignorant of the past. For example, there was a memorial of black blocks small enough to sit on. These block had words like slavery, resist, and a list of names to symbolize the horrors of the slave trade and following oppression in Cape Town. Although artistic, the message of the blocks is unclear to those that aren't familiar with that history therefore, is not efficient in educating others.

One of the most troubling memorials is a block in the shape of a tree trunk to symbolize the trees used to auction off slaves. This horrifyingly inhumane practice is ironically meant to be remembered by placing a circular block, not even big enough to sit comfortably on, in the middle of two busy roads, where people pass it daily, not even getting a glance at it. From this, we learned that ignorance of the past can not only threaten the future but also hurt and disrespect descendants of the oppressed.

After the tour, we were guided to an emotional HIV exhibit. We not only saw the pictures and stories of HIV survivors around the world, but were also introduced to an HIV survivor who is also a transgender woman, cancer survivor, former drug addict and sex worker. Her story of surviving so much trial proves her strength and amazing capability. Her main message to us was to break down stereotype of those living with HIV. They are not only capable of living a normal life, but strong in facing not just the HIV disease, but the harsh stigma put on them by the society they live in. Her story was inspirational and empowering to not only those living with HIV, but those being unjustly punished by society for not fitting into the box each society places every person in.

Some of us ended the day with a Swami yoga instructor. Interestingly, he identifies no religion, but is knowledgeable of many so that he may offer guidance to those that wish to connect the spirituality of yoga with her or his religion. The spirituality of yoga is something that mainstream yoga in the U. S. rarely mentions. One of the things the yoga instructor emphasized was the idea of selfishness in today’s world. He argued that selfishness is the base to the world’s problems and that happiness should come from making others happy. Coming from a society where self-care and helping yourself before you can help others is a common thought, it was interesting and frankly hard for some of us to accept. As for myself, I’m still struggling on what this means for complex situations, like what this looks like across cultures. Although the yoga instructor insisted this being a simple teaching, I think in practice it’s much more complex.

Photo from the HIV exhibit.

 

At the District 6 museum, we learned the story of someone who experienced inhumane relocation. He explained to us what it was like being forced out of his home during apartheid.
 

On Wednesday, we went to church, to school, and then to the Sex Workers Education and Advocacy Task Force. At each place were taught about love for each other and helping one another though things like acceptance and support. One of the most striking things to challenge my perspective was being introduced to the term sex worker, a more respectful way to address prostitutes. It was the idea that sex work can be just like any other work: a choice done willingly by the worker that should be protected by law instead of being criminalized. Unfortunately, a majority of the media, public, and politicians do not distinguish the difference between sex workers, those that choose their occupation, and human trafficking survivors, those forced into sex slavery.
 

The rest of the week involved moving into Windhoek, Namibia, a place we’ll call home for the following three months. Here, we reunited and met with the rest of the staff, or more appropriately labelled the rest of our family.

Week 1: Breaking Stereotypes

By Keith Nagel

Stereotypes of a place are easy to recognize and hard to forget. The images that I expected to see upon arriving in Johannesburg, South Africa were immediately challenged, strengthened, and altered by what I saw in front of me. Johannesburg is a city in transition, a transition that began in 1994 and has continued to this day. The mainstream media’s mantra of a starving and forgotten Africa is in small part truth but in large part far from it. There is clearly wealth in South Africa. Even before I stepped foot on the continent I saw the gold mines scattered around the city of Johannesburg. The wealth from the countries resources I would soon learn is unequally shared among the population, leading to some of the highest inequality in the world.

A dilapidated hostel in Soweto stands in sharp contrast to the 

government houses that were left empty after poor policy

implementation.

While touring Soweto, a particularly infamous township in Johannesburg, Molefi our local companion gave us a clear picture of the history and current conditions in the community. The picture was one that puzzled me. I came expecting extreme poverty, and there were certainly pockets of poverty that no human should be stuck in. However, I did not see the stereotype of poverty that I had expected, instead of shacks I saw houses nicer than my own and business centers sprawling with activity. There is much work to be done in the townships but I would argue that there are pockets of poverty in many parts of the United States that would rival those in Soweto, particularly in immigrant labor camps and Native American reservations. This realization put into perspective that although conditions are tough in South Africa, there is certainly hope in strengthening the middle class in Johannesburg if the inequality train does not run off the tracks.

A picture with our host family in Soweto, the Nkosi family 
welcomed us with open arms. Getting to know the community 
through their eyes was an unforgettable experience.

My confidence in the community was only strengthened by my homestay with Mr. Nkosi and his lovely family. Staying in Soweto for a time, engaging with friends and neighbors in the community, and learning from both young and old residents of Soweto revealed to me that the conflict in South Africa is no longer along racial lines, but along class lines. There is a clear divide between the have and the have not’s. Community leaders that we visited in the Orange Farm region blamed globalization and the capitalist system for the country’s woes, while a guest speaker and the youth that we spoke to blamed aging leadership in the ANC. The ANC brought South Africa out of a long oppression under the apartheid regime, but many believe that the African National Congress is holding the country back.

The wealth disparity was clearly evident in the extravagance 

of Sandton mall, which was a departure from the poverty 

we had seen earlier in our tour. 

A short visit and presentation at the U.S. Embassy in Pretoria showed that the United States is very interested in continuing to strengthen economic and political ties with South Africa in order to foster a better economic environment for the many U.S. companies in the country. This is good news for the South African government as trade with the U.S. is an essential portion of their GDP, however where that wealth ends up is another question altogether. One must look no further than the wealth disparity between the poor townships of Soweto or Alexandria and the extravagant luxury of Stanton to realize that the wealth in Southern Africa does not trickle down as one would hope. The good news is that from what I have seen, South Africa has far more wealth than I expected, though the elephant in the room is how is the wealth to be shared in such an unequal society and whether or not the current political climate is fostering the necessary environment for continuous change. These are certainly questions worth exploring further.

Week Six: Realities of Reconciliation: Acknowledging complicity amidst a deafening silence

by Kitty McGirr & Emily Owens 

Between 1904 and 1908, German colonial forces conducted a massacre of 110,000 Herero and Nama people in Namibia—the scale and sheer brutality of which constituted the first genocide of the 20th century, and the practices of which laid basis for yet another genocide 30 years later in Holocaust Germany. More than a 100 years after this systematic extermination occurred, Germany has only recently agreed to recognize the genocide in a formal admission of historical guilt. 112 years for an apology. 112 years for acknowledgement. 112 years for no trials, no truth commissions, and most pertinently, no reparations for an annihilation order that wiped out 70% of the Herero and 50% of the Nama tribes’ entire populations. Our first speaker of the week, Uruanaani ‘Scara’ Matundu, a local lawyer and scholar on the Ovaherero genocide, shared with us his conviction that reparations remain the most suitable political response to the mass violence perpetrated by the Germans in Namibia. His was an advocacy radically inclusive in nature. Indeed, as a Namibian born in exile in Botswana himself, Scara was keen to underline to us the necessity of justice being instituted to all Herero and Nama people, irrespective of whether they were living in Namibia or were still residing further afield in the countries to which they had been exiled.

Mural displayed at the Independence Memorial Museum
in Windhoek— a space dedicated to the acknowledgement of
Namibian historical events such as the genocide and the
commemoration of Namibia’s journey to independence. 

As it stands, Germany is refusing to enter into discussions about the payment of reparations to Namibia, proposing that it provide developmental aid packages as an alternative form of redress for past atrocities instead. The allure of foreign aid has tended to quell any contributions by the Namibian government in furthering reparation initiatives on the ground due to the widely held belief that demanding redress in any other form would threaten the country’s preexisting dependence on foreign monetary support. To compound this lack of official support on an institutional and governmental level, Scara lamented the distinct lack of white, and specifically German, allyship in his and other Herero and Nama-speaking people’s struggle for economic recompense. I felt especially galvanized by the fact that not one German person sat on the reparations committee with Scara. Namibia, in contrast to its South African neighbor, chose to engage in a policy of silent forgiveness subsequent to the overturning of apartheid. No Truth and Reconciliation Project was conducted within its borders after independence. Instead, the common refrain has been one of unity and forgiveness, of inclusive rhetoric that asserts with the utmost conviction “we are all Namibians now.” Yet in spite of black Namibia’s almost supernatural capacity to forgive centuries of white racial violence, the majority of white Namibians have yet to truly earn that forgiveness by struggling to secure justice for their fellow citizens. I am struck by the audacity of white silence and inaction in the Namibian reparation struggle, but I am perhaps more confounded by the sheer consistency of complicity with injustice that whites continue to exhibit in other global contexts, including that of my own home.

As difficult as it can be to admit, we as individuals grapple with these same issues on a daily basis- and oftentimes, we fail to meet them with integrity. We lie complacent in our circumstances of relative privilege and comfort, while simultaneously remaining complicit as beneficiaries of a network of systems that deny so many others the same comfort we enjoy. Communities in the States, particularly white communities, equally fall into Scara’s categorization of inaction: we deny, we sometimes empathize, but very rarely do we act. What do long overdue reparations for communities of color mean for us on an individual level? What do our claims to support racial equity truly mean if our “support” is contingent on our own sense of security in an unwavering systemic advantage? What effect would recognizing the significance of these reparations for ourselves—to move past denial and empathy, into a trajectory of intentional action and solidarity—have on our communities, our societies, our national and global interactions? And beyond clear instances of marginalization and visibly unjust circumstances, just how often do we commit this disparaging complicity within our everyday lives?

Herbert Jaunch, an active force in the promotion of equity within Namibian trade and labor unions, provided our group with yet another avenue for critical thinking on this topic through his presentation on the influence of Chinese foreign investment on both the Namibian economy and labor force. Jaunch cited numerous instances of unethical wages, exploitative practices, and an overall lack of concern for the wellbeing of Namibian citizens enacted in the name of profit and economic growth. These human rights violations are not unique to the case of Chinese investment; when we choose to examine our own government’s foreign investments and even our individual purchases, we easily uncover an ongoing history of corruption- a history which we continue to write through our everyday capitalistic entanglements. Yet again, we are forced to acknowledge the significance behind our silence—while we can profess our disgust toward injustice and exploitation, we are concurrently supporting corporations and labor practices that drive this inequality through actions as simple as visiting the grocery store. 

So where does it ever end? How can we even begin to detach ourselves from what seems to be an inescapable network of chaos?

The reality of reconciliation is that none of us truly know the right way to reconcile. We glorify the concept of reparation without ever pausing to acknowledge or attempting to repair the broken perceptions that exist within ourselves. It is when we not only recognize, but push forward through our silence that we begin to combat our own complicity—in turn, ultimately coming to terms with the vital role we each must occupy in shaping a more just global society. 

Sources: 

Uruanaani ‘Scara’ Matundu, Namibian lawyer and scholar on the Ovaherero genocide; conversation on September 20, 2016 in Windhoek, Namibia. 

Herbert Jaunch, trade and labor union activist; conversation on September 23, 2016 in Windhoek, Namibia. 

Week One: Reflections on the Motherland

by Chiara White-Mink & Anne-Claire Merkle-Scotland

Apartheid ended 22 years ago when the first democratic elections were held in 1994, the same year I was born. For a nation that experienced so much horror in throughout apartheid these elections marked a new era of possibility and prosperity. That hope was shared throughout the world, when the message of a newly united nation travelled half-way across the world to the classrooms and schools I attended. However as residents and students in the United States, we should be well aware that change, especially social change, may take years and even generations to truly happen. Therefore, we were exposed to the realities of post-apartheid South Africa and the continuously growing economic challenges and disparities faced by South Africans, particularly the black citizens still facing severe effects from Apartheid.

Apartheid was crippling for black families, communities, and individuals by destroying communities and separating blacks from whites and sending them to specified “townships”areas of land outside of the cities where black people were confined to. Accessing medical care, education, and transportation cost money, and all the resources designated to blacks were far inferior in quality to the resources offered to white people only a few miles away. Blacks could not travel outside of their designated community, as well as work, attend school, or do almost anything without a permit.

Our current educational practices are a reflection of eurocentricity, intrinsically perpetuating the marginalization of communities of color and rendering us invisible in educational spheres. Blackness is positioned as the antithesis to whiteness and is thus implicitly framed as deficient and pathological. This is absolutely not indicative of Paulo Freire’s vision of education as a tool for liberation and social change. Instead, this exhibits an immensely problematic model of education that enables the success of the privileged at the expense of the oppressed. I, unfortunately, was unable to conceptualize my educational experiences as such until I began my collegiate career. I was provided with the space to critically reflect on my schooling, paying close attention to how aspects of my identity (such as race, gender, class, etc.) impacted what privileges and opportunities I was afforded and what I was deprived of. As a Black woman, I was faced with the harsh reality of oppression on the basis of race and gender. The most potent example of deprivation I can think of is the lack of culturally relevant material/the inability of educational spaces to centralize African-Indigenous belief systems as a method to empower students of color and expose white students to an undervalued world view; and subsequently, the expectation for students of color to assimilate to hegemonic notions about success.

Thus, my trip to the continent of Africa signifies my journey to increased critical consciousness, psychological emancipation and self-love, a revolutionary act. Education is intricately connected to our sense of humanity and I desperately sought an educational outlet that not only recognized, but honored my humanity. I concluded that this program attempted to a foster a space grounded in anti-oppressive ideology and actions that reflect intentionality and purpose. The first week of the program was spent in Johannesburg, South Africa where we went on various field trips to become critically acquainted with the country. I was deeply disturbed by the failure of my educational systems to acknowledge the interconnectedness of the struggle for liberation here and in the United States, or rather acknowledge the plight of people of color beyond the United States, period. It is also important to highlight the manner in which information is presented as well. Schools, as I have articulated above, typically convey information in immensely problematic ways (the dominant narrative), often excluding vital narratives and potent perspectives. Thus, I felt beyond privileged to hear about events here in South Africa from the voices of people directly involved, because I know that my educational spaces are lacking. One thing in particular I have been marinating on is the role of ordinary people in worldwide liberation struggles. This stood out to me on our visits to the Hector Pieterson museum and Orange Farm Human Rights Advice Centre. At Orange Farm, we had the opportunity hear from people on the micro level about issues that impacted their community. For once, leaders who rose to national prominence were decentralized and it was more about the work ordinary people are doing to provide for their communities. They actually shared their thoughts on one leader we have all been conditioned to love—Nelson Mandela. I am not attempting to refute his importance or discredit his accomplishments, but I was forced to critically analyze Mandela in a way like never before—in a way that countered the dominant narrative surrounding his political reign. The Hector Pieterson museum was especially interesting because we got to speak directly to Antoinette Sithole, a key player in the June 16, 1976 Soweto Uprising that resulted in the death of her brother. It is about time that we recognize the bravery and resilience of everyday people who are not necessarily internationally known or praised. 

Through visits to communities such as Orange Farm, located about an hour outside of Johannesburg, we saw and heard about the enormous problems within education and employment that poor communities are still facing even 22 years after the country was supposedly desegregated. With little resources offered from the government, schools continue to suffer from overcrowding and lack of materials, while adults and young adults are facing high rates of unemployment and lack of opportunities. Speaking to citizens, we learned how frustrated black South Africans are with the lack of economic mobility since the end of Apartheid. Still stuck in an oppressive and vicious cycle of poverty, many citizens have given up on expecting the government to create real effective change after so many years of what many view as false promises. One of our speakers Molefi Mataboge said it best when he stated “When politicians talk, we must listen not to what they’re saying, but to what they’re not saying.”

Coming to South Africa, I was expecting to see the land of Nelson Mandela and an integrated society somewhat free from the obstructions of apartheid, and constantly moving forward to maintain that promise of democracy shared throughout the world for years after apartheid ended. My experiences this week however showed me how much farther this great nation needs to go to truly see economic prosperity and opportunity for all of its citizens, and the serious changes that need to be made in order to make this happen.

The honorable Steve Biko once said, “The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed.” I have recognized that education thus far has been the practice of domination—keeping me ignorant, silent, and perpetuating social inequities. I am here to build upon what I have been unlearning in the U.S. and am ready to take back my mind from the oppressor, by any means necessary.

Week Fourteen: Continuing on the Path of Decolonizing Our Minds

by: Ashly Brun, Molly Weilbacher & Sydney Wipperfurth

With just two final weeks left of the semester, it really sank in with the CGEE students that our time in Namibia is coming to an end. Most people said goodbye to their internships, co-workers and for the most part our classes. Last week we had two incredible learning experiences in our Development and History classes. For Development, we visited the International Organization for Migration (IOM) where we learned about the reality of refugee and migration issues in Namibia. In History class we had Mr. Forrest P. Branch, an economist, and Pastor Tyrone M. Cushman (both originally from the states) speak to us about Africa’s economy, the question of “why Africa is so poor,” the civil rights movement, what it means to be black in America, and the issue of race both in specifically Southern Africa and the U.S.

Our visitor passes when we went
to the International Organiza-
tion for Migrantion.

As defined on the United Nations Namibia website, “the IOM is the leading inter-governmental organization in the field of migration and works to help ensure the orderly and humane management of migration, to promote international cooperation on migration issues, to assist in the search of practical solutions to migration problems and to provide humanitarian assistance to migrants in need…” The IOM established their in-country presence in 2011 after a flood displaced a significant number of Namibians ("International Organization for Migration." Namibia. ). We learned that there is a refugee camp in Northern Namibia which, at this time, is home to about 5,000 refugees. Originally, there were about 25,000 refugees, but the majority of those has been either relocated or repatriated by the Namibian state and incorporated into Namibian society. Although, we did learn that because of some xenophobia in the country, resettling of refugees and migrants into Namibia can be a difficult and lengthy process. After learning about societal difficulties with migration in the Namibian context, we learned more about the legacies of racism and the difficulties experienced by those during segregation, in our history class. 

History class challenged all of us to face the reality and legacy of racism and resistance. Forest Branch, our speaker, told us he moved to Africa when he was 25 and has lived here for the past twenty years. He spoke to us about what it means to be a black American in Africa: that while he is not African, he feels more at home and at ease here than when he visits the States. He spoke specifically about how he feels safer to be black here, with an especially chilling remark: “If I get shot here, or put in jail, it won’t be because I’m black.” Hearing about his experiences here really brought home what we have been studying in our history class in terms of the difference of race relations in North America and Southern Africa. 

Furthermore, Forest is also an extremely successful economist and business owner. He spoke about the history of colonization in Africa and how it set Africa up for its current day problems: for example, how Africa went from over 6,000 diverse kingdoms to becoming consolidated into 53 countries, creating false borders and conflicts. Because of Africa’s history of colonization and oppression by foreigners, Forest argued, the “biggest thing that has impacted Africa is the lack of self-confidence," the self-confidence to run companies, to be employees that take initiative, and the self-confidence to exist in the public sphere. He spoke a lot about foreign aid to Africa and the question of where does it go and who does it actually serve. He spoke about foreign trade agreements, saying “80% of problems we have in Africa are imbalances in trade, 20% is with political instability, and half of those instabilities are caused by interference from the U.S.” He spoke about how absolutely rich Africa could be if it didn’t have an imbalance in paternalistic trade agreements with Western countries who extract Africa’s natural resources for purely their own benefits. It was so important to hear someone speak critically about Namibia’s economy and situate that in the larger economic issues of African countries. The narrative Forest offered was integral for us to hear as it is vital to deconstruct the common narrative and myths about Africa’s economic status. 

Forest brought along his friend and mentor, Pastor Kushman, who spoke to us about his experiences in the civil rights movement, race issues in America, and what it means to be black in America versus Africa. His speech brought home our whole experience at the CGEE. The room fell silent as we attentively listened to Pastor Kushman. He described how he marched alongside Dr. King in Michigan just a week before his “I Have a Dream” speech. He read passages from his book in which he explained how he felt as a black American who fought in the Civil Rights movement when Pres. Obama was elected for his first term in office. We all had goosebumps–you could feel the energy in the air as he so passionately recounted history. He spoke about the church’s role in combating racism, and how "the worse racism of all is the racism that uses God as the cover." He called on white people, specifically white churches, to take cue from fellow black churches to combat racism. He spoke about how "in order to get to the root of change we need to deal with cause and effect, we need to deal with cultures and the good and bad," and the difference in the upbringing of a black child versus white child. 

The radical voices of both Forest and Pastor Cushman commanded the attention of the whole room, and really made each student reflect upon the reality we are re-entering at home, after spending four months studying the reality of race in Southern Africa. We had experienced people opening old wounds to share their story of oppression, and people who were willing to share their culture with us. We were called upon to remember our duties are not done, that we still need to fight, and decolonize our minds as the issue of racism in America is rampant. We need to feel equipped to stay alert and challenge issues of racism, economic, and social inequality back home. 

In order to challenge issues of racism and inequality back home, it’s vital that we recognize our position as anti-racists. In order address racism, we need to recognize racism within ourselves. Recognizing racism within yourself requires introspection and a capacity to critique oneself. However, recognizing is not enough. Here is where we call for anti-racism. Being anti-racist requires that you actively oppose racist actions, structures, and institutions and recognize your position of power in those institutions.