Friday November 10, 2023
Sue Nalewajk
Reflections on South Africa
Bob and I had the fortune of “winning” a safari trip in South Africa. I say “winning,” because we “won” the privilege to pay for this at the silent auction being held at a Strawberry Banke fund raising event. It turned out that everyone in our tour group had also “won” the same trip from a non-profit organization’s silent auction in their neighborhood. So, a year later, we were all off to South Africa.
Safaris are amazing. Perhaps I should say that driving in an open jeep amongst large wild animals is amazing, if not a bit frightening. We saw prides of lions, dazzles of zebras, towers of giraffes, crashes of rhinos and confusions of wildebeests. The list goes on. I love the names of groups of animals. We learned about their life cycles and other aspects of life in the area. Elephants are pregnant for nearly two years. Women – can you imagine that? Giraffes deliver their young standing up. The fall of the new calf on the ground helps start its heartbeat. One single rhino horn is worth about a half million dollars on the black market. This is more than cocaine or diamonds. The poacher who fetches this horn after killing the rhino, sometimes a local farmer, gets about $1000 or enough to feed his family for three months.
While we were on safari, we had the opportunity to visit a Zulu village and meet the local chief and some of his family (four wives and twelve children). We tried throwing an arrow (to catch game for dinner) and witnessed a typical Zulu dance. The dance was full of very high kicks and then dancing very low to the ground. When I asked the chief what the significance of the high kicks was, he replied that they symbolized killing the enemy, the British. Dancing in a low position symbolized the enemy’s death. He also instructed us on how to kill your enemy with a large knife. Perhaps he saw the hollow expression on my face after this demonstration because he declared that Nelson Mandela had acclaimed peace to stop apartheid and the killing.
We were on safari for several days and then continued on to Johannesburg, or Joburg as the locals call the city, where the tour switched gears from nature to culture and history. South Africa has twelve official languages, including English, sign language, Zulu, Afrikaans and eight other native languages. There is 30% unemployment. Everyone was always smiling – especially when they greeted you. Then we went to the Apartheid Museum.
I remember reading about apartheid riots going on in South Africa in the 70’s and 80’s, but didn’t really notice it. I was finishing grad school, starting a career, getting married, having kids. You know, living life. Then, before I knew it, Nelson Mandela was elected, eliminating the segregationist government and apartheid in favor of a democratically elected one. Life went on.
Then I went to the Apartheid Museum. I learned much, often with tears in my eyes. Blacks, the majority of the population, weren’t even second-class citizens. They were worse than that. They were fourth-class citizens, below whites, coloreds and Asians. It was illegal to socialize, marry or have children with anyone outside your race. You would be jailed and the resulting child scorned. The ruling white government sometimes quelled riots by shooting the protestors. They even shot children because the children wanted to learn mathematics in their native language, not Afrikaans, the language of their oppressors.
The ride back to the hotel was quiet. I couldn’t get past killing children. At the hotel, the news of the Hamas-Israeli war continued on BBC. More news came about the war going on in the Ukraine. I thought about my visits to Auschwitz (all those eye glasses in the display cabinet) and the 9/11 Museum in NYC. Remember four dead in Ohio, the 1970 shootings at Kent State University? I felt helpless. Why do we humans need revenge? God, we need another Desmond Tutu, please!
Rabbi Irwin Keller’s recent poem (see 10/27/23 SJC Reflection) provided a perfect synopsis of my frustration/confusion/ fear/etc. and offered a way to peace. “I will call for de-escalation even when I want nothing more than to get even. I will do it in the service of Peace.” I thought of the comments from the Zulu chief putting down his knife for peace. I thought of St. Francis, “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.”
I generally consider myself a Martha, not a Mary, but couldn’t imagine how to tackle this global problem. As Christians, we are taught to pray. I do pray. When prayers aren’t answered in MY time frame, I assume that it is not for me to know or understand. While I do keep praying, I also try something more. In my case, I try to characterize the need in smaller terms and come up with a solution that would have a useful benefit in its own small way. “What do I do?” you ask. Well, I cook. I cook for soup kitchens, churches, food pantries, etc. I have been doing this for over 25 years now. I cook to help end hunger, one meal at a time. This is my instrument of peace. I understand that negotiating global peace will be left to others who have been given the gift of peace making. I pray for them.
“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink. Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” Matthew 25: 35-40.
If you’re ever in South Africa, visit the Apartheid Museum in Joburg and then go on safari.