Father Brian Bolton invited us to dinner at the rectory to meet with some of the members of the parish in Oceanview, St. Claire’s. Oceanview was created during Apartheid as one of the townships for the colored population. It is a poor community that is struggling with drugs (one drug in particular, called Tik, is devastating the community, much like crack did in our inner-cities and Oxycoton did in Appalachia), and as these things go that means the crime rate is getting worse and worse in Oceanview. It isn’t a walled-in community of shacks like Masiphumalele, but it is s community stuck in the grips of poverty and crime much like some of our inner-city areas. St. Claire’s is the founding mother parish for the Chapelry of St. Matthew’s in Masiphumalele.
At the dinner were 3 or 4 older parishioners who are leaders in the church, and also a young adult woman, Genalee, who is on vestry and volunteers as the youth director working with the teenagers. The conversation eventually evolved from jovial, lighthearted conversation, into a much more in depth discussion about the state of South Africa, and the Cape Region specifically. I observed to the group how difficult it was for me as a outsider to try and understand and appreciated the very complicated social dynamics between the races, and that it might help me if I heard from them first hand some of the history and personal experience of how that had developed as a result of Apartheid and in particular, how that has evolved since the fall of Apartheid.
They were all very open to sharing their stories and perspectives about a very painful past. I couldn’t discern if that is from a cultural ethos that has developed of telling the story and that they do this many times and are quite comfortable doing so; or if they aren’t encouraged to talk about it and are eager to do so when they are given the opportunity. I will ask Father Brian.
So the stories began as they talked about being young children, 6, 7 or 8 years old, and the police and soldiers arriving with trucks and buses, forcibly removing them from their homes. They were only allowed to take the belongings that they could carry. It was a moving and awful picture that they painted for us, of them , the people we were sitting with, remembering themselves as children, crying as they were being moved against their wills, telling their parents they didn’t want to leave their home, asking their parents why this was happening. They talked about arriving in Oceanview, and being assigned living quarters. They told us about township curfews of 6pm when they must be in their houses, limited movement, shops and beaches and jobs not available to them any longer.
Rich Nodar asked where it was they and their families lived before they were moved. One of the men answered, “Simon’s Town.”
“That’s were we are staying and renting a small cottage, on Paradise Road,” Richard replied.
“That’s the street I lived on,” one of the women explained.
And as we explored that more, we found that the very row of 6 or so cottages are the very homes they were forcibly removed from as children. A lump formed in my throat, I could feel an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. And as we returned home that evening, I couldn’t help by be bombarded by the images and pictures they had painted for us, as I walked up the narrow street to our cottage, of the trucks and buses that moved these people from these very homes, of the fear and anger of the parents, of the tears of the children, of the tragedy. I haven’t been able to walk in the cottage now without thinking about it. I can’t help but lay in bed wondering if it was this very room that man or woman slept in as a child.
What is remarkable to me is that as they shared their stories, in the midst of the pain of reliving such an ordeal, there is still an openness , an understanding that this is in the past to be learned from, to be never repeated, but to be forgiven. The people of South Africa use the words “reconciliation and transformation” a lot. I think they understand these words much better than anyone I have ever met. They certainly understand these words better than me. I think they have a lot to teach the world if we would just listen.
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