Soweto and Joburg: The mostly Hop On Bus

I was recently told by someone that even though he had only known me for 24 hours I seemed to make the same bad decisions regarding exercise repeatedly, specifically running. That is not exactly how I see it. Yes I realize I was still in Joburg, and nothing about the city had magically changed overnight. It was was still terrifying, but there is just something about running in a new place to get to better know it and feel it that is special. It is one of my favorite things to do. My morning talk with Tyson the day before had pumped me up to go running in the neighborhood where I was staying. So at 530 am I was again outside with Tyson. Together we mapped out a route. He told me where the boundaries of my run should be. I felt good about it, so off I went. I was soon joined by a guy who was training for a marathon and I decided to continue running from him. We ran for several miles and he was nice enough to loop around and I peeled off to my guest house because I only wanted to run 5 miles or so.

Breakfast was a hodge-podge of things from cheese and cured meats to yogurt and oaty stuff. After eating, packing and stashing my stuff at the front desk, I called an Uber and headed towards the Hop On Hop Off bus with the plan of touring Soweto, going to the Apartheid Museum and in no circumstances hopping off.  My Uber got lost. Really lost. To the point we circled for around half an hour. The destination that google maps and his Uber app kept telling us was in the middle of an amusement park. We stopped and asked multiple people without much light being shed on the situation. Eventually I saw the big red and yellow bus and we followed it. By this time I had missed the tour I had been aiming for and now had the better part of hour to explore the Casino where the tour departed from.  The Casino was nothing special. I didn't expect it to be. Casinos seem to be the similar everywhere they contain the same mix of sleep deprivation, thin layers of hope juxtaposed over hopelessness and second hand smoke.

I decided to go outside early to make sure I got a seat on the next tour. I was first in line so I posed in front of the bus and took pictures for others as they joined.

Our tour guides for  the Soweto tour were Nogutula (Brenda) and Tambo (Nicholas). At that moment we had already been exposed to Apartheid and Township life we realized it with their simple introductions. Both had English names. During apartheid these were assigned as a requirement to every boy and girl if they were lucky enough to attend school and from that point on they would only go by their English name while in school.

Both of them were current residents of Soweto and both had lived through the student uprisings that happened there on June 16, 1976. These protests were as a result of the Afrikaans being required as the language of instruction in the Soweto schools (Afrikaans Medium Decree of 1974, which forced all black schools to use Afrikaans and English in a 50–50 mix as languages of instruction. Indigenous languages would only be used for religion, music,  and PE). This added insult to injury to an already offensive education system. Neither the teachers nor the students spoke Afrikaans as their primary language.
The schools already taught less subject matter to keep those living in the townships less educated. The protest is said to have involved 20,000 students. On that day at least 176 were killed by the police (some reports have estimated many more up to 700. June 16th is now a national holiday in South Africa). Both Tula and Tambo's perspectives on Apartheid and Soweto were the best part of tour.

We first visited the World Cup Stadium. It looks like an African pot and we were told it was designed to also look like beer. It stands on the site of Nelson Mandela's first speech when he was released from prison in 1990 and after its construction was the place of his memorial service in 2013.  There was quite a crowd at the stadium on this day for a large church event. Tula told us that in Soweto Saturday is for weddings and funerals. We were told that all religions are present in Soweto but it is hard to gauge.

That which is now Soweto (South Western Townships) was founded in 1904. Today it is the home of  1.3 million people and is simultaneously one of the wealthiest and poorest places in South Africa. It also has the reputation of being one of the most dangerous places in the world. We quickly saw upper class homes across the street from lower class homes. The housing structure is elaborate and was extremely well explained by Tula. I cannot do her detailed review justice therefor the following is in sum: In Soweto one can own or rent and there is a graduated housing plan in hopes that everyone will work towards self-sufficiency. As a person reaches increased productivity their housing options improve while they also pay more.

The poorest people in the township (not living in shantys, she said all of those in shantys are doing it because they are renting out their real homes.) live in dormitories with no water inside and mobile toilets (outhouses). This area was stark with fair amount of trash and mostly broken windows. "When we are not happy sometimes we showcase in not a good way." was Tula's thought on some of the destruction we saw in the dormitory housing. To live in the nicer area as stated before one must be employed (and these rooms cost 2500zar/ mo ($191)). She described the 48 suburbs and explained that including those raises the population of Soweto to over 4 million.

We passed the biggest hospital in South Africa and the 3rd largest hospital in the world called Chris Hanhi Baragwanath. This hospital has 3200+ beds (Tula said 6000, maybe sometimes they double up?) and reportedly 10 km of corridors. It is a teaching hospital with medical students and residents. Each person pays 50 rand ($3.84) for a medical card and their treatment at the hospital is then free. 

Next up was the power station. Initially it was built to supply Joburg. Now it is a place where you bungee jump. They offered to let us go, but no one took them up on it.

We continued on to the area were the first shooting on the day of the student protest was. There is a memorial commemorating the students. This was followed by a trip to Nelson Mandela's and then Desmond Tutu's house. After he was released from prison, Nelson Mandela returned to Soweto to live for a time until it was deemed not safe enough for him to be there. Desmond Tutu who lives on the same street had altered his house for security reasons and we were told his son now lives there full time. Winnie Mandela still lives in a neighborhood just down the road.

We ended the tour at the Apartheid Museum. When you buy your ticket, you are assigned a race. I was assigned "White" so entered with the rules of a white person going through what was similar to Customs or crossing a border.

The museum was powerful. I was told I should plan at least 3 hours to spend enough time. I only made it an hour and a half before I needed to leave. Looking back, this is an entry I should have written immediately after my visit. My time in this museum was very reminiscent of the misery I felt when I was on Robbin island and also when I went to Dachau in Germany. It is a suffocating feeling that I can only describe as the experience of evil.

The first exhibit after the initial entry is the Nelson Mandela exhibit which takes you from his birth to his death. I was very glad that I had been to Robbin Island first. words. Nelson Mandela's life was compelling from the start. I already knew him as the guy who convinced his Robbin Island guards to allow him to have a garden in a maximum security prison and thus a force to be reckoned with. It turns out that he was a leader and a visionary throughout his life. The tribute to him at the end of this exhibit was the first but definitely not the last time I cried in this museum.

After Nelson Mandela I began my walk through a very detailed history of what led to Apartheid, Apartheid itself and then finally its repeal. It was nothing short of frightening and as I walked through I couldn't help but think easily repeated. I found myself wondering if we have really learned from all of the history we are surrounded by. Have we as a society really paid attention?

The movement started many years before the actual segregation came to fruition with and disenchanted population mostly made up of lower class and middle lower class of white people in South Africa feeling who wanted to "get a leg up on life" if you will. Gradual changes in policy to help whites get ahead in life and "prosper" slowly but surely led to Apartheid, by definition: racial segregation. As I walked to this real life horror story I found that I gravitated towards the people that resisted apartheid. Insane things happened to them. Basic facts were changed for the purpose of the government. For example: A white woman who stood up against apartheid and stated that everyone should have the same opportunity for education would have her status changed to "bantu" therefore allowing the government to impose Apartheid on her.

  The things that they did in response to resistance that was not provocative didn't make sense. The changing of facts made me feel nauseated.  I kept thinking, "How could good people allow this behavior? These laws?"

There had to be more people than the few that were featured in the museum. But really, WHY WOULD ANYONE ALLOW THIS AND THINK THIS IS OK?  The sinking sick feeling as I internalized this reality was augmented as the resistance grew and then became grotesque violence with color video as people were gunned down.

It left me cold and worried that somewhere in some place we as humans might let this happen again or maybe that we already are on our way.

I hadn't planned to leave early so now I had free time and figured why not "Hop On"? The tour was great and I learned a lot about the city:  the population of Johannesburg ranges from 3-12 million depending on what areas you include, it is 1700m above sea level (which made me feel so much better about sucking so much wind on my run that morning) and that it has no water it all has to be pumped in. I thought that I could probably stay on the bus for the whole circuit and #learnitall, but that quickly changed when I got hungry and the next stop talked about a food market on Saturdays.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to hop off?? Yep that is what I would do. Hop off and go directly to the market. I did this and was immediately surrounded by local guys pushing and pulling me. The bus had already pulled away so I hurled myself into the market and turned in time to watch the security guards act like a deflector shield to my recent acquired companions.

The food market was fantastic and worth it but at this time almost about to close. There was not much time for thinking things through, only time to buy it now. I ended up with a myriad of culinary creations: biltong (necessary for the plane ride home of course), ginger beer, paella, some vegetable creation, and many samples of desserts (there is a point were you have eaten at lease 2 whole desserts via sampling). After I was done with lunch I booked an Uber and then as directed went out to stand with the security guard to wait for it. I had the driver drop me off at 27 boxes to get to go green juice and Chinese dumpling soup for dinner before I headed to the airport.

Back at the hotel I changed and washed my face. I then cracked open my local hard cider that I had bought the day before and took some time to relax before I headed to the airport.