I'm Coming Home

Touching back down in South Africa was an event that elicited a variety of emotions. It was great to be back—to feel the winter chill, to hear people speaking isiZulu, isiXhosa and Afrikaans and to have Starbucks replaced by Mugg & Bean (and the $4 price tag of coffee replaced by $1!). Looking out of my window in the morning, each day I am greeted by the magnificence and beauty of the Stellenbosch Mountains—a view I had missed. The pale pinks cool purples of the rising day framed in a cloud of icy fresh and clean air. But waking up those first few mornings, I felt the twinge of an entire life which had been left behind me in DC. A whole range of new friends and traditions lay abandoned in a foreign place—unlikely to be revisited in the foreseeable future. Coming back to and having to fit back into Stellenbosch post those 5 weeks in the ‘States has been a tough experience. Everybody asked what it had been like. I tried to explain as best I could, but often with limited time, “life changing” had to do. Although life changing does not quite capture what it was. It was strange coming back to the same group of people whom I had left behind just 5 weeks beforehand—I had changed so much and in so many ways: they have not changed at all. They appreciate that I had an incredible time – but cannot begin to grasp what we went through together.

Being back in South Africa also brought a return to other realities. To concerns about politics; to burglar-barred windows, fences and Trellidoors; to concerns about race, the information bill and nationalization. To all of the challenges we have still to overcome— the things that SAWIP is equipping us to deal with and lead the charge against.

I was sitting at a restaurant in Francshhoek the other day as a stream of children ran past on the way to take up positions for a game of Rugby. A knock-on or some other discrepancy called for a scrumdown: the front row bent over. The hooker and the two props bound together to push against a non-existent opponent. I noticed that the middle player was a black lad and the two on either side of him were white. How tragic that this fact is something I would find at all noteworthy. I hope, and believe to be true; that those children holding onto each other had no conception of the division of race.

But they will probably grow into a country that makes them aware; every time they open a newspaper, fill in a form or walk down the street; and that is tragic. We have a duty to the generations still to come; to the children not yet even thought of—to our children, to create a country where this awareness is nonsensical. We need to use our education system and economy to create a level playing field: a field which operates effectively, works in the best interests of our people and where the key to success is little more than hard work and some vision. We have a lot of work to do.