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Racism in Africa

 

My thoughts on Racism are many and detailed and span the years that I do remember.

In around 1967, I moved from Zambia to South Africa , which was to be my home for the next 17 years.

In the beginning, I didn't notice much of a change between Zambia and South Africa, but as the years passed by, the plight of the Black African began to touch my life in many ways.

In those days, back there, all white people had at least one maid and a gardener or two. There were tens of millions of people wanting to work in order to support their families and they came hard-working, cheap and in plentiful supply. Living in Africa, especially towards the middle of the Continent and knowing no different, one got so used to being spoilt and pampered.

On reaching adulthood, I immigrated to South Africa as Zambia had recently acquired her independence and living there became a dangerous place. In the early years, our Black African house workers proudly wore suits and were well treated (we thought so anyway). They cooked, cleaned and looked after gardens. The men and women who worked inside houses often wore fancy suits with braided shoulders showing their superiority over the ones who worked outside. There was a natural order that existed. The White population were almost completely free to live their lives without having to worry about the mundane things like shopping or preparing food. Washing your own clothes was unheard of and this is the world I was brought up in and knew no better. It was only when I grew up that my mind filled with sorrow as to the plight of those less fortunate than I.

In South Africa in those days, there were two classes of people, separated eternally (until now) by generations of racists. There were "whites" and there were "Blacks". The racist thinking of the "white man"! Having migrated from other parts of the world and being brought up on the words of the Bible, these staunch readers of the Word, honestly believed that they had been chosen by God to represent him. This was all a gross miss-interpretation of the Bible, believing it to be His word that they followed. It was common for them to think of themselves as the Chosen Ones and superior beings to anyone who was not "white". One tiny touch of "Black Blood", made a person classed as a "Non White" and therefore subjected to all forms of subjugation. In later years when they had succeeded in the degradation and humiliation of the "black" man, xenophobia towards anyone who didn't speak their language was a natural progression into their own ultimate fate but only after many years of living as though they were indeed the spoilt ones and the "blacks", their servants. "No Blacks Allowed" was a sign posted everywhere - restaurants, parks, cinemas, buses. There were park benches with signs "Whites" and "Non Whites". The main residential areas were "Whites Only" and the "Blacks", those hard-working men, women and children, the back-bone of Africa, the people who worked hard for a pittance, who lived in abject poverty, were made to live far away on the outskirts of the towns. They had to make there way into the "white" cities before sunrise and return home after dark. And I say...

"Shame, man..........what have you done?"

Maids earned $50 a month and worked every day from early morning to after the dinner dishes were washed. A lot of houses had accommodation for their workers at the back of the properties and in this way, they were separated from the rest of their families until their days off. Thursday afternoons were "maids day off".

Each "black" person had to have what was called a "pass". This was a type of identity booklet, similar to a passport. Their place of birth was of course a big factor - they were only allowed to work in the area of their birth. This made it very difficult for the people who were born in poverty and they streamed to the large cities in order to find work, so that they could survive. There were many "illegal" workers who managed to get jobs out of their allowed areas and these people were mostly taken advantage of as far as their wages went. On occasion, some employers managed to get passes for workers allowing them to work within cities where they were not born, but this was unusual and occasionally based on bribes to those in charge.

I have never and will never condone killing of any form - be it black on black, white on white, black on white, white on black.

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Left - White anti-riot policeman beats a Coloured child protester in the Athlone area of Cape Town during the 1976 rioting.

 

 

Right - White railway train drivers assaulted this black child by sticking his buttocks into the open furnace of their locomotive. His crime : picking up coal alongside the railway tracks.1974. Beaufort West, Cape Province

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Much more to come as time permits

For Links to more African Experiences please visit [The Electronic Village]

Please note: I sent the URL of this page to a friend, an ex-South African.
His comments below are copied exactly as received.

 

"Esther, I don't really know how to say this...It seems to me like you're trying to tell everyone how "good" you are in a way which is really only appreciated by yourself. Doesn't read too well, I know... The things you've said in the site are no doubt the behavior which makes you feel good about yourself and that's OK... But, it's ineffectual stuff which served only to make yourself unpopular, not improve the situation. Reading it makes me think that you're about to do yourself in or something, since you evidently have taken the liberty of overlooking the possibility that what you're writing may really be an excuse for being ineffectual. Well, you asked me what I think, and there you have it. Perhaps I've been a little hard on you since you're going through some trying times in your life right now and may feel the need to be writing, perhaps romantically, about the events in your life which have brought you to this place. At the same time, perhaps some things are best left unsaid..."

To this I respond...

"There are not many of the times in my life which I could ever imagine to be thought of as romantic. I've been beaten to within an inch of my life ; I've experienced the deaths of loved ones through terrorism and tragic accidents ; I and my family have literally run for our lives, away from extreme danger (in Zambia) ;  I've been through infidelity, divorce and attempted murder. Every word of my narrative is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.  My memory has all but gone due to a traffic accident and trying to remember though the fog is not some perceived romantic notion but extremely stressful.

I WRITE BECAUSE I NEED TO KNOW AND UNDERSTAND."

 

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