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Expats in South Africa
We are expatriates in South Africa. Two years have passed since we moved here: friends were made, friends left and new friends walk in to fill in the gaps. It is like a never-ending process in a constant state of a neurotic flux.
There is never any dearth in meeting new people in expatdom – it either draws out on basic chemistry (whom you gel with) or ‘you speak my language and you are quite nice’. But never expect to meet the local population. They don’t live in our planet and we don’t in their scheme-of-things. Though the two planets have similar air and earth elements, their atmospheric pressures differ. They cross cosmic paths occasionally but in a formal and temporary way. If one is invited into the local planet – it is big deal - begging a big applaud.
There is an unspoken norm into which expats and their wives have to wriggle into. I must admit and rather sheepishly, and with an unmistakable nagging fear, that we eventually fall into a trap of ‘leisure-tude’. It lures us as much as the exotic and charming Namibian dessert does - but a dessert it is, with all its fascination and trappings. My fear is not for them but rather for me – the fear of time, which in a fleeting pretence is stealing the hours away from me and I would fail to find myself in all those intentions and in all those forms I’ve hoped and longed for.
White South Africans
Prelude
I haven’t written in a long time, and now when I finally sit before the computer, I fumble and wonder if I had ever been a blogger in the last six years, or have I most conveniently, worn a newly-born charisma as a newsletterist. A newsletter won’t appease a writer, and nor someone who wants to pen minute details of time, on which she or he rides on. A writer wants to put the arm on the colours and nuances of experiences, expressions, feelings and human contradictions. Almost like an artist, not faltering to complete a painting with the final strokes of the brush, or a humorist speaking the truth, the writer flirts with words, carries you to another era of thoughts that juxtaposes two or three disparate existences. No, it is not a deception, but an art form, if you may, that becomes just another truth in this world of many truths.
Well what I am going to narrate is not an art form nor is it how things maybe among South Africans, but it is about what I have come to perceive as truth, not the ultimate but my version of it. My opinions may change in the future, but this is how it is today:
Dilemmas of the White South Africans
Ever since we moved here, it were only the whites that always quipped, “This country is dangerous and so be careful where you go and what you do. Don’t take the taxis, buses, walk in the streets and never, never in the nights.”
When they say that we can’t help not notice their deep underlying psychological undertone as we compare it to our day-to-day existence here in Joburg. Even the blacks are killed and robbed as often as the whites are. The issue is definitely then not a racial one. It is just that a larger number of rich people happen to be white, drive around in fancy cars and live in rich white townships. If I were a thief I would know where to go, logically speaking.
I think the post-apartheid period is more complex than it had been during apartheid. During apartheid, there was the oppressed and the oppressor. It was clear who oppressed whom, and the Whiteman rules were clear.
Post-apartheid, everyone watching the country from outside thought ‘and-they-lived-happily-ever-after’. The outcome of post-apartheid: the blacks are free and have a political voice, while the whites are on the run with a threatened existence and a feeling of disempowerment. According to Charles Cilliers, a local white author, the biggest fear of the whites were that they had to give up their power and government to the very people they had long oppressed and dominated, and whom they had thought ‘incapable’, ‘uncultured’ and ‘uneducated’. Undeniably it is a difficult change for the whites. It is no surprise now that when the whites quip all the time that South Africa is a dangerous country to live in, that they are merely talking about their innermost fear.
Some whites are reacting strongly to local problems and issues, not in a political or social undertone, but by fleeing the country and with it its many problems. Some have taken a wait-and-watch stance while others have exhaled a sigh, ‘it is not so bad after all.’
The reason?
Many of those who fled the country easily were people who had some kind of British heritage (even a remote one), with British passports and English relatives. Those who migrated to countries like Australia and the US left with tales of horror and feelings of abandonment. Definitely with one foot in another country, and with no distinct feelings of martyrdom, it is always easier to take one’s hands-off something which is hard to solve and complicated. Under the circumstance, I feel certain I would do the same.
We have 3 Brazilians friends, and of which 2 never ever mentioned crime back home. They always give a picture-perfect of their country. But some would say, ‘Hey look, there maybe crime in Brazil but in South Africa it’s different. Here, they would shoot and kill you for your cell phone or a 10 Rand.’
And so in other words, South Africans say, ‘We are leaving our country because robbers and thieves kill in this country!’
Did anyone ask before leaving their country, “Where did the guns come from? Who are these people? Why are they killing for a cell phone or a 10 Rand?”
But there are still a great many white South Africans who feel truly South African and have lived on in this country, come what may. This is their country as well and no one’s yet told them otherwise.
South Africans are leaving the country not only because of the high crime rate here but also for a multitude of other reasons, to which they don’t yet want to admit to. Admittance to a future that does not exist is unfounded but for the time being it only raises fear and unrest.
* The Trekboere, as they were originally known, are descendents mainly from Dutch Calvinist, Flemish and Frisian Calvinist as well as French Huguenot, and German Protestant origins dating from the 1650s and into the 1700s. Minor numbers of Scandinavians, Portuguese, Italian, Spanish, Polish, Scots, English, Irish and Welsh people were absorbed, as well as some descendants from early unions with slaves of mainly Indian and Malay descent and local Khoi people.
I haven’t written in a long time, and now when I finally sit before the computer, I fumble and wonder if I had ever been a blogger in the last six years, or have I most conveniently, worn a newly-born charisma as a newsletterist. A newsletter won’t appease a writer, and nor someone who wants to pen minute details of time, on which she or he rides on. A writer wants to put the arm on the colours and nuances of experiences, expressions, feelings and human contradictions. Almost like an artist, not faltering to complete a painting with the final strokes of the brush, or a humorist speaking the truth, the writer flirts with words, carries you to another era of thoughts that juxtaposes two or three disparate existences. No, it is not a deception, but an art form, if you may, that becomes just another truth in this world of many truths.
Well what I am going to narrate is not an art form nor is it how things maybe among South Africans, but it is about what I have come to perceive as truth, not the ultimate but my version of it. My opinions may change in the future, but this is how it is today:
Dilemmas of the White South Africans
Ever since we moved here, it were only the whites that always quipped, “This country is dangerous and so be careful where you go and what you do. Don’t take the taxis, buses, walk in the streets and never, never in the nights.”
When they say that we can’t help not notice their deep underlying psychological undertone as we compare it to our day-to-day existence here in Joburg. Even the blacks are killed and robbed as often as the whites are. The issue is definitely then not a racial one. It is just that a larger number of rich people happen to be white, drive around in fancy cars and live in rich white townships. If I were a thief I would know where to go, logically speaking.
I think the post-apartheid period is more complex than it had been during apartheid. During apartheid, there was the oppressed and the oppressor. It was clear who oppressed whom, and the Whiteman rules were clear.
Post-apartheid, everyone watching the country from outside thought ‘and-they-lived-happily-ever-after’. The outcome of post-apartheid: the blacks are free and have a political voice, while the whites are on the run with a threatened existence and a feeling of disempowerment. According to Charles Cilliers, a local white author, the biggest fear of the whites were that they had to give up their power and government to the very people they had long oppressed and dominated, and whom they had thought ‘incapable’, ‘uncultured’ and ‘uneducated’. Undeniably it is a difficult change for the whites. It is no surprise now that when the whites quip all the time that South Africa is a dangerous country to live in, that they are merely talking about their innermost fear.
Some whites are reacting strongly to local problems and issues, not in a political or social undertone, but by fleeing the country and with it its many problems. Some have taken a wait-and-watch stance while others have exhaled a sigh, ‘it is not so bad after all.’
The reason?
Many of those who fled the country easily were people who had some kind of British heritage (even a remote one), with British passports and English relatives. Those who migrated to countries like Australia and the US left with tales of horror and feelings of abandonment. Definitely with one foot in another country, and with no distinct feelings of martyrdom, it is always easier to take one’s hands-off something which is hard to solve and complicated. Under the circumstance, I feel certain I would do the same.
We have 3 Brazilians friends, and of which 2 never ever mentioned crime back home. They always give a picture-perfect of their country. But some would say, ‘Hey look, there maybe crime in Brazil but in South Africa it’s different. Here, they would shoot and kill you for your cell phone or a 10 Rand.’
And so in other words, South Africans say, ‘We are leaving our country because robbers and thieves kill in this country!’
Did anyone ask before leaving their country, “Where did the guns come from? Who are these people? Why are they killing for a cell phone or a 10 Rand?”
But there are still a great many white South Africans who feel truly South African and have lived on in this country, come what may. This is their country as well and no one’s yet told them otherwise.
South Africans are leaving the country not only because of the high crime rate here but also for a multitude of other reasons, to which they don’t yet want to admit to. Admittance to a future that does not exist is unfounded but for the time being it only raises fear and unrest.
* The Trekboere, as they were originally known, are descendents mainly from Dutch Calvinist, Flemish and Frisian Calvinist as well as French Huguenot, and German Protestant origins dating from the 1650s and into the 1700s. Minor numbers of Scandinavians, Portuguese, Italian, Spanish, Polish, Scots, English, Irish and Welsh people were absorbed, as well as some descendants from early unions with slaves of mainly Indian and Malay descent and local Khoi people.
Arriving in South Africa (the Rainbow Nation)
We just reached the country and people are already asking us about our first impressions about Joburg. To be fair I did give none at the moment without first well observing/knowing. We have both been optimists from the beginning and still are (without being too elated about our optimism). Amidst all negative speculations and warnings, from friends and family, I fear (and rather sheepishly!) that there is an inner sense of elation in determinedly refuting all commonly held (sometimes exaggerated) perceptions about this country. I think we shall closely appeal to a nomadic sensibility – mystifying norms, bolting on sudden-alert and de-sensitizing words that even vaguely mean ‘attachment’. We do the bounces – as a solitary duo - like in a Kochari[1] dance - bouncing from one place to another, without halting to breathe and spoiling the even-rhythm. We haven’t any cultural-baggages to carry either other than the cans of foie gras, mousse de canard, saucisson, nougat de provence, chocolat au lait and postcards from France.
That Joburg is a green-haven, there’s no doubt about it. The city is surrounded by trees and green lawns. It is not a concrete-filled captial (like Bangkok, New York or Bombay) but is very, very spread-out, with green boulevards, broad roads, several green parks, few lakes, golf grounds, country clubs and gardens, apart from a few modest ‘high-rises’ concentrated here and there in business parks. Sometimes it gives me the British India impression in exclusive Indian hill stations with country and golf clubs. I particularly love the road leading to downtown, or old Johannesburg, now inhabited only by ‘black faces’ (and where apparently the whites fear to go). This particular road has old and huge Jacandaras growing on either side, hugging together, creating a cool, green sun-cover. Apprarently, this is a beautiful sight in spring when purple flowers bloom, and later fall on the road to create a lovely purple-colored-sheen. Rumor has it that Jacandaras are forbidden to grow, as they consume plenty lot of water and will wither the water-table dry. Fortunatly and for all prevalent good-sense, they haven’t been unforgivenly and mistakenly cut-away.
Guess it sounds like a little romantic tale, of a love-at-first-sight sort …but no matter what, and up until now, we are loving everything about the city so far – the weather, outdoor restuarants, food, sport activities, theatres, operas, the people, the city- scape and particularly the fact that people here live in houses with pools and gardens with plently of room to spare for guests. :)
Glimpses of the City: View from our hotel, a typical suburb road, inside a walled community. view of the capital's suburbs.
City Statistics:
Season: Mid-Summer
Weather: 25 deg on the average/rainy at times
Population: Around 7 million
1] Kocharis is a folk dance from the Kars and the Artvin regions of Turkey. It is an even rhythmic dance, danced in a circle. The word means normad in Turkic languages. The dance is common to Turks, Armenians and Kurds. (Source: Wiki)
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