Jay-key in Soweto

Howzit? Is it (thank you for the spelling corrections Bridgette!). Wakka wakka bafana bafana, ja. I apologise for the tardiness of this post but internet access has been sporadic. If you are expecting a humorous look at life in the slum, stop reading now. Even Jay-key can’t be flippant about poverty. Having said that…

I had never been to a place like Soweto. Extreme poverty surrounded me in Moçambique but this was different. Soweto is a vast township, home to 3.5 million people. I won’t bore you with the history of Soweto’s development – you have Google for that. Soweto is vibrant, noisy and throbbing with diverse sights and smells. If you are a germaphobe like me, this is not the place for you.

The contrast between the so-called posh areas like Diepkloof Extension and the shanty towns is startling. This wasn’t like driving past Beetham Gardens and Sea Lots to get to Westmoorings. I’m certain a significant percentage of Soweto’s residents would view a move to Sea Lots as an upgrade.

Our journey began in Montecasino, an upmarket and beautifully manicured suburb of Jo’burg. So far I’ve avoided the Westcott penchant for attracting mishaps. Still, it should come as no surprise to you that Jay-key and her driver Jonathan spent half an hour waiting at the wrong pick up point before the penny dropped. Not that I was complaining, mind you. Jonathan was good company and chatted about his view of life in South Africa from the perspective of a young, white English-speaking person.

I shared a minivan with four British tourists from Maputo and our Soweto-born tour guide Simon. In one of those freaky six degrees of separation coincidences, one of my travelling companions was the daughter of someone my husband and I knew in Moçambique. (Bridgette – do you remember John Spears?)

After a brief photo stop at Soccer City (impressive) it was on to Diepkloof Extension, the Beverly Hills of Soweto. The houses (or stands as our guide called them) were small and initially to my Western eyes, typical of a lower middle class neighbourhood. The difference? The sleek autos squeezed onto the small driveways. My house may be small, but check out my ride.

Sitting snugly next to Diepkloof extension is Diepkloof hostel. Originally built as barracks for migrant labour, it has been transformed into what our guide Simon referred to as “informal family dwellings”. Trini translation – a squatter community. No running water, no inside plumbing and no electricity. If you looked closely you could see tiny wires running across the road from the street lights in Diepkloof to the occupied barracks. Gotta juice up the satellite dish somehow.

In Baragwanath Precinct we walked through the dusty streets taking in the overwhelming sights, sounds and smells. Might as well have put a big sign over my head saying “Clueless Foreigner carrying camera, two cell phones, American dollars and credit cards. Come get me.” Jonathan’s advice was ringing in my ears – “Try not to look foreign. You stand out too much.” Perhaps I should have left the Coach handbag at the hotel.

I was fascinated by the potions, dried roots and herbal concoctions in the traditional healer’s shop. (I use the word shop loosely – it was a cubby hole in a covered market). Not surprisingly, a popular item is a bark for men only. Honestly – the lengths (pun intended) men the world over go to.

The cow head meat seller stationed next to the outdoor barber shop was doing a roaring trade. People lined up alongside the pile of bloody cow skulls to purchase dripping parcels of meat. Something told me I’d be wasting my time if I asked to see his Food Safety Badge.

Our next stop was Orlando Shanty Town. Can I just say, I will SLAP the next person who complains about poverty in T&T. You people have NO idea. Orlando was a miserable and depressing manifestation of the human condition. Squalor on an unimaginable scale. I thought of my lovely new bathroom with granite countertops and mosaic tiles. I suspect a rain shower has a whole different meaning in Orlando. The South African Government is trying to address the housing issue though. Several government houses have been built and many more are under construction.

Many years ago I visited the former concentration camp Dachau in Germany. It was the most depressing place on earth. Hector Pieterson Museum is a close second. Do I need to explain who Hector Pieterson was? I’m not going to. Google Soweto riots 1976.

Visiting the Hector Pieterson Museum was like taking educational Buckleys. Unpleasant, but good for you. Viewing apartheid era artefacts is not exactly cheerful. But we need these reminders of the past to prevent us making the same mistakes in the future.

Our final stop was Nelson Mandela’s first home in Soweto. This tiny house has been restored and opened to the public. It was a fascinating look at Madiba’s early life with Evelyn (his first wife) and Winnie. (Incidentally Winnie Mandela’s current home in Soweto is a rather flash affair. You can’t miss it.) Our guide showed us the sacred tree in the garden under which the umbilical cords of the Mandela grandchildren are buried, according to African tradition. Umm….OK…

We parked outside Archbishop Desmond Tutu’s house but did not go inside. The Archbishop inconveniently still lives there and would prefer not to have thousands of tourists trooping through his living room every day. I don’t see the problem myself. Liz opens Buck House to the masses in the summer. Surely Tutu can see the commercial opportunities?

Contrast my visit to Soweto with a trip to Sandton City the next day. Sandton is THE posh suburb of Jo’burg and boasts a huge shopping mall. One of the hotel managers took me out for breakfast and a walk around the mall. It was undeniably pleasant and reminded me of several “first world” city areas. With images of Soweto still pounding my subconscious it was impossible not to contemplate the enormous gulf between the haves and the have-not-a-firetrucking-two-cents-to-rub-togethers.

Such a great city. Such beauty, such poverty; such great wine at amazing prices! A decent bottle of vino for $40TT and a great bottle for $95TT. I would move to the Cape Town tomorrow for the booze alone.
As I bid goodbye to Jo’burg my thoughts turn to Swaziland and the adventure that awaits me there. Jay-key is ready. Bring it.

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