Witness: A visit to the townships of South Africa

As we drove into the township if Khalatashanta, it was an eerie feeling. Looking across what seemed to be miles and miles of little shacks no bigger than a small bedroom all butted up against one another in row, after row after row. These small compartments were made of materials that people could find such things as siding twine. As we drove through, we saw goat heads being cooked on the side of the road and communal bathrooms for all of the people in the township to use. We saw children running around everywhere. Some where rolling around old tires while others sat and talked to one another. The power lines that ran through the small city had stream after stream of cable coming down to each little shack, dangerous of course, but the only way to have electricity reach these tiny homes.
Of course coming from white suburbia in the states, to me this place seemed like a hell hole. I could only imagine what it must be like at night, roaming around in utter darkness. However I had to admit that this is not my world, my time and that to have what I and many others do back in the states is not the end all. In fact, despite the hardships that ravish this community, the utter poverty and threat of AIDS and disease and inadequate health care, we found a supreme optimism that you don’t find in many places.
We had the opportunity to meet with some amazing children. Some spoke broken English, but for the most part, our communication was based on gestures. I handed out massive amounts of Disney stickers and of course the kids put it right on their forehead. I’m not sure they knew who Mickey Mouse was, and I’m not sure I would want them to know at this point. These kids were just like any other kids. I kept comparing my interactions with them to the thousands of children I’ve interacted with working in the parks, and to me there was no difference. They were children with these beaming smiles and big brown eyes. They all laughed and paraded around with their newly found trinkets on. There were the ones who were shy, and the others who were bold enough to come right up and smile at you, laugh at you or strike up a conversation with you, just like other kids in the states. All of them wanted to have their pictures taken…I would make them pose and make funny faces so they could then see in the viewfinder their own faces. It was what made them happy, something so small and seemingly insignificant. There was one young child there name Luu-yo-lo, awesome kid who spoke a bit of English. He was an awesome kid, shy, but smart and someone who reminded me of the potential these kids could have if they were given the chance. These weren’t your every day hellions, just average, ordinary day kids. They couldn’t be more than 9 or 10 and they were born into a system that will keep them down for a good part of their life.
You see, the apartheid is over in South Africa, but the poverty is not. The disparities in class are obvious and to think for one moment that things are getting better is laughable at best. In many instances they are improving but when you visit the township, you see that they are not. These people still live in shacks, still have to work every day just to eat, and still are so confined to this tiny space with so little opportunity. As you look to these children, so full of hope and joy, and then look to their parents you see disparity here too. You see the exhaustion and weight upon these people to provide and secure for both themselves and their children the basic necessities of life. You see inevitably the loss of hope in their eyes and the recognition that they may never have what the people on the other side of town have.
I think the difference between the children and the parents is that the children have no idea what the rest of the world looks like. For the most part, the only thing they know about the outside world is what we as “tourists” bring in with us. They haven’t had to experience the direct acts of discrimination that their parents have faced, and the only thing they know is what they have been raised in.
For those of us coming in from the outside world, we cannot help but weep, for we know not just what these people could have materialy, but that we as a world have turned a blind eye. We have the resources available for these people and have ignored their humanity. The years of denial and damnation of this country and its continenet have not gone away institutionally and to think that the country has moved on from its troubles is far fetched and almost insane.
And yet as you look through these children’s eyes and you think about tomorrow, one cannot help but imagine the possibilities. When you meet someone like Luu-yo-lo who has all the potential in the world to become someone great, you wonder what he could be and all of those kids could be if they were given the chance to succeed, to do something great with their lives.
So in the end I walked away from the township realizing to the fullest capacity what I had known for years about the deplorable living conditions that exist here. But what I recognized more in this visit was the enormous potential for human beings to overcome and to live with optimism and hope that tomorrow could be a better day.