Berkley Center

Memory of apartheid lingers in South African society. The legal end to the separation of races only came in 1994, and its legacy is still apparent. People who lived through apartheid and fought for its end are still alive. Stories of the atrocities committed are still told. The evidence of the past is vivid. The freshness of the wounds and the precedent of past reconciling nations causes one to wonder: how many generations will it take for apartheid to fully disappear?

I came to this country expecting to see a nation working towards equality. I had faith in such a progressive constitution and hope in the concept of the rainbow nation.

Instead I found a culture of racism and a reality of segregation.

While some South Africans are openly and consciously racist, many subconsciously stereotype others based on race. While there, I encountered a few proud racists, but I mostly found that the population discriminated unknowingly or without thought.

While on safari, I met an older South African man. He had an air about him that screamed self-importance, and his actions matched. He constantly challenged our black guide because he felt he was always right. I found that this was typical of many white South Africans. This man criticized the African National Congress (ANC), the democratic party that fought against apartheid and won the first free elections in 1994. He could not understand why someone would vote for that party. He even argued that the ANC was incapable of providing services, even though government housing, electricity, and running water have been established in more areas since the first democratic elections. This showed me how much distrust there was between whites and blacks in the nation.

While the focus is on whites discriminating against non-whites, it works in the reverse as well. I taught in a rural school comprised of black and mixed-race students. None of them lived under apartheid, yet they still felt its effects in full force. The children lived on wine farms, at which their parents worked in the fields for white owners. My advisor warned us that the students would be apprehensive about white people, and he was right. While most of them outwardly embraced our presence and enjoyed our company, some showed signs of fear at the beginning. One particularly small girl seemed almost afraid of me at first. When I went to pat her on the head while smiling and praising her for her hard work, she flinched at the sight of my hand. I could only imagine what this implied about her relationship with white people, and it saddened me that she had (most likely unconsciously) discriminated.

For as apparent as this racism is, South African society has also permitted and partaken in an amazingly open and frank effort to memorialize the apartheid era: events, crimes, victims, heroes. It is a push for reconciliation and justice, yet I wonder what sort of role it plays in the erasing of segregation. Do such marks of the past help the people move beyond or hold them back? Or both?

The answer, of course, is dependent on the memorial and the reconciliation process it induces. Some memorials commemorate, while others remind, a subtle difference that can change the nation's progression towards the rainbow nation.

South Africa has done a remarkable job commemorating the past in a positive way. While there are many politicized memorials, there are two major ones that seem to have a positive impact on the South African people.

The District Six Museum memorializes one of the first multiracial Cape Town neighborhoods to be razed and redistributed by the apartheid government. The museum is run by former residents of the district and allows them to symbolically reclaim their land while educating outsiders.

Robben Island, the prison in which Nelson Mandela spent the majority of his 27 years behind bars, has been transformed into a museum and active reconciliation site. Former political prisoners give tours of the prison and live on the island with some former prison guards. Both of these sites provide a positive experience for survivors and therefore contribute to South African’s' healing process.

This leads to the ultimate question: How many generations does it take for a nation to conquer its horrible past? In the case of South Africa, it may actually take less than usual (not to say that many nations are perfectly equal). The Truth Commission was one of the best, the memorials are some of the most useful, and the oppressed are already in power. But while the groundwork is certainly laid, the mindset of the nation may not be there. Education is slowly improving, but many young black and mixed-race students still feel inferior and do not progress as far in school. The government is steadily providing more housing, electricity, and running water, but the shacks outside of Cape Town still go on for miles, leaving many hopeless.

How far past that pain do the victims and their children need to get before forgiveness is complete and sincere? While memorials help some, many people have missed the reconciliation process altogether.

While it is hard to tell how long it will take South Africa to establish a society of equality, I can certainly make a hypothesis. Some South Africans believe that hope lies with the generation currently still in school. Yet from what I have witnessed, it will take longer than that for the idea of the rainbow nation to truly manifest itself. Hope is with the children of this generation.