ALIVE!

thoughts on my urban homestay in katatura, a black "suburb" or windhoek.

Of all the things that I have learned about pre-colonial southern Africa and the European colonization of southern Africa, I am mostly impacted by the striking similarities to the United States’ history. The natives of southern Africa and the United States before the German and British colonization found common ground not only in the persecution each was subjected to. The natives of both nations seemed remarkably in tune with nature, and loved the land as a part of them, and not as an object. Each had a sense of community that is hard to come by in times today. It was not until after the British and the Germans came that everything began to change. In southern Africa, the Germans tricked the natives into signing treaties that only confounded their former ideas of their purpose in life – they were backed into smaller corners, forced to give up land, taken advantage of. What amazes me the most is that the Germans thought that it was okay to treat people like this. These people lived through the British subjugation of Native Americans. Did the thought ever cross the minds of the Germans that people should not be treated as second only to scum? That they are humans too?
During my time abroad, I have had multiple “aha” moments, particularly in my homestay, mostly from conversations with my older and younger brothers. Although a part of me would like to believe that race relations are improving in Namibia, I keep running into situations that challenge this belief. For instance, my first night at my homestay, my 10 year old brother Roberto asked me why I was white, and why I wanted to be around blacks. My 26 year old brother explained to me that he dislikes his job as a manager at a downtown sports apparel store because white people do not treat him well when they come shopping. My younger brother then again, after I invited him to come swimming at the center’s pool, asked me if it would be okay for him to be there since he is black.
Although there may be lingering realities to my older brother’s opposition, my little brother is still so young and impressionable. I feel like I did not even understand the idea of “race” at the age, especially as a means for judging others. There is obviously an overlying element of contempt between the peoples here, even though everything is portrayed as hunky dory post independence. Regardless that many of our readings contribute the separation of people today being strictly economic and that race segregation is an idea of the past, I am continually finding it difficult to believe. Walking through Kliptown, a township of Johannesburg plagued with poverty, truly opened my eyes to the realities of life for many blacks, even post apartheid and independence. From my general observations of the attitudes of real people and their perception of the opposite race, and their own race for that matter, it is hard to believe.
My stomach was tied into knots after seeing Alexandria and Standton in South Africa, especially in such close proximity. It is so easy for me to be in disbelief over the wealth gaps, and the fact that the wealthy of Standton do not feel called to help their poorer fellow citizens. But after careful consideration, I realized, I myself am guilty of ignoring my needful brothers and sisters. Who am I to point fingers when I am just as bad? These conflicting notions keep rattling my brain as I am exploring this beautiful country and learning from its children. Does my privilege lend itself to a responsibility to help others? Why was I born a wealthy white American? Should I feel guilty? Is it really my fault? All of these ideas I have been wrestling with, and although I am learning so much from the various speakers, events, and readings, I feel like the most important lesson I am going to learn is about myself.
I love the history of southern Africa because I feel like I am experiencing it as it happens, like it is alive. The countries of South Africa and Namibia are so young, and their futures have so much potential. It is easy for me, as an American, to sit back and say “Do not do it like this, it does not work. Do it this way. This is how we did it, and look at our admirable progress.” But I think the beauty of developing countries such as Namibia and South Africa is their ability to make their own history, to follow their own course, free of the influence of said “developed, proper” countries. I think the biggest healer for a lot of these country’s difficulties with race relations is time. It still stings those who experienced it first hand, and there is still hate cultivated among their children. It will take generations to heal the pain.