28 posts tagged “south africa”
My sister and I met up with my cousin and his girlfriend in London yesterday. They had just arrived from South Africa and we were keen to catch up with them. We found a suitable spot at an outside pub in Leicester Square and as we lazed in the afternoon sun drinking familiar brand beers it felt very much like being in back in Pretoria South Africa.
Our conversation moved onto how things were at home, which my cousin admitted were not all good. Crime remained the single biggest problem and the recession was taking its toll there too. Nonetheless he was excited to be in South Africa again and did not have any regrets about leaving Oxford where he lived very comfortably for 10 years. He spoke about the broader range of opportunities a developing country presents and how fulfilling it is to make a noticeable difference no matter what line of work you are in. The UK in comparison he argued is saturated and it is more complicated to get things done. My friend Stephane who moved back to South Africa from England only days ago expressed similar sentiments. He too found England to be hemmed in and boring essentially. On the last day I saw him he was wearing a T-shirt with a map of Africa and a slogan beneath reading, “Africa is not for sissies”. He plans to buy a large SUV, get browned in the sun and reconnect with the land of his birth.
Many people including Nancy have asked me why it is that I am so averse to living in South Africa. Teaching is a far more rewarding career there, and if I worked in the private sector it would pay much the same as what I earn in the UK. I would be closer to my family, be able to afford a home more easily and generally have a decent quality of life. I am aware of these benefits of course, but for me the level of violent crime in the country overshadows them all. It is not something I can simply accept as part and parcel of living in Africa which so many of my friends and family seem capable of doing. They say that every country has its problems and point out that even in England, people are beaten up and stabbed to death. This is true. Recently two feral youths beat a man to death on his way back from a convenience store in northern England, there have been many stabbings in London and the murder of Baby P has sickened the nation. The difference however is that these are rather isolated cases. The number of people murdered in year in England is about the same number of people who die on a daily basis in South Africa.
Everyone in South Africa has either been directly affected or personally knows someone who has been affected by crime. A few weeks ago Stephane’s parents-in-law and their daughter living with them were held up at gunpoint in their home. They were lucky not to have been shot or raped, as is usually the case. Stephane has promised to install an electronic gate so that they don’t have to get out of their car until they are safely in their property but for me that does not help much. The problem is not so much the level of security around their home, but the level of crime in the country.
I certainly could not live in fear of my life, nor could I expect not to be affected by it by taking all sorts of precautions. The crime problem is endemic in the country. It needs to be solved not with high tech security but with serious penalties for criminals and attending to the reasons people turn to crime in the first place.
With all my heart I hope that the country does turn out for the better and that I can one day sit with my family and friends in Pretoria, feeling as relaxed and carefree as I did in Leicester Square.
Until recently Thabo Mbeki was the president of South Africa. He had been so for almost a decade, ever since he took over from Nelson Mandela as both the president of the ruling African National Congress party and president of the country.
He took his first knock when he lost presidency of the ANC to Jacob Zuma, the very man he fired as Vice President some years back over his alleged involvement in a massive arms deal scandal. That involvement is something that has still to be heard in a court of law. It was finally meant to be get under way last month after several delays only to be dismissed by a judge on a technicality. Part of which was that Mbeki himself has meddled in the proceedings.
The Zuma camp has consistently claimed that the charges of corruption have been a plot orchestrated by the Mbeki camp to keep him from becoming the next president. When the judge uttered the words that Mbeki had been inappropriately involved in the proceedings of the case their suspicions were neatly confirmed. In a matter of days Mbeki was shown the door.
Mbeki’s recall was followed by half his cabinet and various regional premiers however. Even the vice president quit. Naturally this left sudden wake of leadership. What would happen next? It was as if the country was holding its breath. A new “care-taker” president was quickly introduced to the nation. A man no one outside of politics had heard of. Kgalema Motlanthe. How do even say that?
Motlanthe made an impressive debut though. He came across calm and collected - just the thing to ease the frazzled nerves of millions of South Africans. His first big move was to get rid of some of the most incompetent ministers including the widely detested minister of health, “Dr. Beetroot” so called for her stalling on procuring anti-retroviral drugs at the cost of millions of lives insisting that a basic diet was sufficient treatment. He also put a lid on the leader of the ANC Youth League, whose lack of even a high school education clearly comes across in his belligerent rhetoric and mob like antics.
All in all Motlanthe has rapidly met the approval of both blacks and whites in South Africa, and as the dust begins to settle it seems that South Africa might be alright after all. If Motlanthe could stay on as president there is a ray of hope for the country. Unfortunately there are seldom happy endings in African politics.
It is far more likely that Zuma will never have to face trial and will become the next president of South Africa by hook or by crook. He will be sworn in dancing like a fool singing his trademark “Umshini Wam” war cry, “Bring me my machine gun” from the bygone days of the liberation struggle. He’ll probably stay in power for years and the country will prosper just like the rest of Africa has.
Motlanthe will probably fade back into the obscurity he only recently emerged from and as for Mbeki, he will almost certainly lose the tentative sway he had on negotiating a settlement in Zimbabwe. The best thing he could do, I suppose, would be to start a splinter party from the ANC, hopefully creating a viable, much needed opposition party thereby. Then again, considering that he has a pension of 100% of his salary as president he might just want to enjoy his spoils in the comfort of his brand new house.
South Africa is such a beautiful land, the people are great and sun makes everything shine. It is just a pity about the “comrades” in power like who have no skills beyond being at war with something. People like Jacob Zuma are like a single dark cloud in an otherwise bright blue sky, but it blots out all the rest for me I am afraid.
Rhodes University in Grahamstown, South Africa attracts a large number of students from Zimbabwe. As such I have gotten to know and befriend quite a few Zimbabweans during the two years that I have been living here.
Zimbabwe has been a hot topic in the news ever since its president Robert Mugabe began expropriating white owned farms a few years ago and redistributing them to disenfranchised black people. There were many problems with this course of action. To begin with white farmers were not properly or fairly compensated for their land. In many cases they were harassed off their land by mobs wielding crude weapons at a moment’s notice leaving everything they had behind. Last year a friend of mine recounted the harrowing escape her family made from their farm the day it was seized. She is lucky to be alive.
The land grabs suddenly left thousands of farmers without a home or an income. Many of them went to neighboring countries like Mozambique, Botswana and South Africa out of desperation. Others left Africa all together. The biggest problem with the land grabs however was that that the new black owners lacked expertise in modern farming techniques, so the Zimbabwean economy which is based on agriculture finally toppled and has been in a free fall ever since.
On Friday another Zimbabwean friend of mine training to be a teacher at Rhodes University gave me a 100 Billion Zimbabwean Dollar note. In 1980 when the Zimbabwean Dollar replaced the Rhodesian Dollar on par, it was actually stronger than the US Dollar. 100’000’000’000 Zimbabwean Dollars back then would have made me rich beyond imagination, but Mugabe’s destruction of the economy has been so devastating that the same amount of money today is not even enough to buy a loaf of bread. It is quite an achievement. Last year a Zimbabwean classmate told me that that their family home bought some years ago cost less than a single banana does today.
Hyperinflation in Zimbabwe means that zeros are constantly being added to bank notes to keep up but it soon reaches a point where calculators, teller machines and cash registers cannot handle such large figures. So in desperation a string of zeros are lopped off and a new dollar is brought out. In August for example, ten zeros were dropped when the Zimbabwean Dollar was redenominated for the third time. 10 billion dollars effectively equaled I dollar of the new money and for a while figures were manageable again. Even old coins from the first Zimbabwean dollar era regained their value. Those people who had kept their coins thus saw the value of them increase 10 trillion-fold. But their fortunes were short lived. The coins are now worthless again. Things that cost ten dollars soon cost thousand dollars, then a million dollars, then a billion dollars and so on. The situation has become so unmanageable that it was announced earlier this month that foreign currency has been declared Legal tender as a de facto currency.
It is scary to see how quickly a country can collapse under mismanagement. Not long ago Zimbabwe fared rather well. It was socio-economically sound with an advanced educational system, boasting the highest literacy rate in Africa. But a few fatal decisions by its political leaders turned that all around and left the country in a quagmire that will take decades to emerge from.
Many South Africans fear their country shares a similar fate to its neighbor up north. This fear is largely fuelled by the likelihood of Jacob Zuma becoming the next president in 2009. In short he is an uneducated man, singing belligerent war songs from the liberation struggle (that ended 14 years ago) while dancing about on stage frenetically inciting the equally uneducated masses that support him. He is not the kind of person any thinking person would entrust their future with. The ruling party he fronts are also dubious. Just this year a land expropriation bill was brought into consideration which effectively gave the government the right to reclaim any land at a price decided upon by them. This bill was finally shelved to be reconsidered at a later date, presumably once Zuma takes office in 2009. Should this bill ever take effect, South Africa will surely follow the route of Zimbabwe. Even without it white farmers are being targeted and killed. Genocide Watch, an international organisation based in America which aims to predict, prevent and eliminate genocides worldwide have already berated the South African government for doing little to counter the brutal attacks on white farmers. To date over 1700 farmers have been killed and the number continues to rise daily.
As reported in the New York Times, the South African government is increasingly under pressure to “speed the transfer of white-owned land, especially farmland, to the majority black population.” Close to 90 percent of the 79,700 land claims filed by black residents since January 1999 have already been settled according to the government, but what they are really after are the big white-owned agribusinesses. Once they have those as well there will be little to differentiate the history of South Africa from Zimbabwe. The demise of South Africa might take longer than Zimbabwe’s as its economy is not as reliant on agriculture but it will certainly get the ball rolling.
Zimbabweans living in South Africa often point out how similar the events currently unfolding in South Africa are to those that happened in Zimbabwe before it went bust. In their opinion South Africa is somewhat of a mirror to Zimbabwe. They clearly recall how cracks in Zimbabwe began to show with electricity and fuel shortages for example and how these things are happening just the same in South Africa.
Come to think of it, I have never met a Zimbabwean who did not feel that South Africa was inevitably headed for the same outcome. I guess they would know the warning signs all too well so it would be wise to take heed and have an exit strategy in place should worst really come to worst. Meanwhile, it might be prudent to exchange my South African Rands while they still have some value. Down the line it may well be several million Rand to the US Dollar, like it was for Zimbabwe this year.
South Africans complain a lot. I have realised this over the past two years that I have been back in the country. It is virtually a common past time to bemoan the state of the nation. We do it over the lunch table on a glorious afternoon, in the staff room as we sip on our coffee and dunk our biscuits, on the telephone with friends, in emails to loved ones abroad. There is no end to it.
Unfortunately it is not just talk. Many people I know personally have openly expressed the desire to emigrate as countless others already have. In the UK alone there are estimated to be nearly half a million South Africans, the majority of whom are in greater London. Another significant portion of the population live in Australia and New Zealand, with an increasing number of people relocating to Canada and the US. Everyone in South Africa knows of someone in their immediate circle of family and friends living in one of those countries.
My sister lives in London for example. She is happy there but nothing can fill the void of being far from her place of birth and her family who still live in South Africa. Since she left a few years ago her absence has been sorely felt, and our family has been fragmented by it. Amongst each other we reason that her distance from home does not make that much difference when technology makes it possible to keep in touch “in real time” and when flights back to Johannesburg are as frequent for her as they are for my other sister in Cape Town. But the truth is that there is something to be said about simply living on the same piece of ground. It is difficult to have a real sense of family unity when this is not the case.
The South African diaspora can be attributed to many fundamental problems in the country. The biggest of which is violent crime. Everyday 50 people on average are murdered. “Rape statistics from South Africa are so shocking as to be almost unbelievable”, the BBC reported, a person is raped every 26 seconds. Car hijackings, house break-ins and street muggings happen all the time and are often fatal. For criminals in South Africa life is cheap. People are killed for no more than their cell phones.
Besides crime, South Africa is also burdened with one of the world’s highest rate of HIV/AIDS infection, which it continues to struggle getting a handle of. This is not surprising when the current president, Thabo Mbeki attributed HIV infection to poverty and malnutrition and when Jacob Zuma, the man primed for presidency next year claims to have taken a shower after knowingly having sex with an HIV positive woman to avoid infection.
On the whole the country seams to be coming apart at the seams. Electricity shortages will continue to dog businesses and civilians for the next five years while Eskom is upgraded and expanded the way it should have been years ago. Roads increasingly fall into disrepair, while tens of millions of Rands are spent on changing street names and other such inanities. The level of education in government schools continues to slide after the adoption of a misguided “outcomes based” model of education nearly one and a half decades ago. Literacy and numeracy in South Africa are now of the lowest in Africa, which in turn is of the lowest in the world. The implementation of “Black Economic Empowerment” and “Affirmative Action” in the work place essentially places racial criteria over professional competence when employing people. The consequence of which is particularly apparent in the appalling standard of social services. Any document requires “6 to 8 weeks” by default to be processed, but in fact it is fortunate if it is processed at all. Simple things like applying for a driver’s license or a birth certificate are a huge palaver. Even the postal service is in complete disarray. Amazon.com has stopped it services to South Africa this year because of the amount of parcels that go missing en route.
South Africa is at a crucial point in its history. The recent attacks on African foreigners that left scores of people dead and thousands displaced has set it on a path towards total anarchy. In recent months the country has gone a step further down this path with the leading party’s Youth League publicly declaring that they to kill anyone who stands in the way of African National Congress leader, Jacob Zuma from becoming the president of South Africa next year. Given the identical tactics followed by Robert Mugabe’s Zanu-PF party in neighbouring Zimbabwe earlier this year these are threats no one takes lightly or metaphorically.
What South Africa really needs is a fresh leader, of sound judgment, well educated, articulate, personable, and with the interest of the country at heart. Another Mandela if you will. Sadly this is merely wishful thinking. There are no more Mandelas in my opinion and if there are they don’t have the mob support that people like Jacob Zuma have, so they do good and prosper quietly behind the scenes with little influence on the masses.
“Afro-pessimism” has become a buzzword for the lack of faith in the future of Africa in general and it seems that more and more people are afflicted by it. Including me. When I came back to South Africa at the beginning of last year I was truly happy to be back home. It was exhilarating to be in a diverse society in a country that was constantly evolving. The sun felt nice on my skin, my eyes rejoiced in looking across the South African landscape, I liked to hear familiar accents and taste familiar foods - it just felt so good to be home. If you had asked me then what I envisioned for the future it would certainly have been hopeful. But lustre of that optimism has been steadily been dulled by the kind of problems I mentioned. More so because I don’t foresee these problems being resolved – clearly a case of Afro-pessimism. I tell those who are considering moving abroad that it would be a wise move and I secretly pity the people who can’t or won’t.
The last time I felt this negative about the future of South Africa was back in 1999 in my last year at university. I left the following year with the intention of settling down literally anywhere in the world that was more stable. In the years that followed however my fears of complete civil unrest and economic collapse in South Africa proved to be off the mark. Instead property values shot up, the economy rebounded and, unlike me, my family and friends managed to settle down, get ahead in their careers and prosper.
Now that I am repeating much the same thing that I did almost 10 years ago, it comes across as a cry wolf. For many South Africans, the country is admittedly going through a trying stage but one they believe will right itself in due course just like it did when the government changed hands from minority white rule to black majority rule during the 1990s. Optimists, or “good newsers” as they are called, focus on the positive aspects of living in South Africa. They talk about the favourable developments in the country, like the laying down of much needed railway lines, the continued construction of housing for the poor, preparations for the 2010 FIFA World Cup, sport achievements and so on. Essentially they call for an end to bitter conversations of doom and gloom that so many of us indulge in and to take action and actually change things for the better. Websites, like SA Rocks and SA Good News strongly encourage this line of thinking. They list and promote like-minded groups and organisations that one can join to facilitate change on a grassroots level. I admire their efforts and commend them for it.
Nonetheless, I am still not swayed to heartily invest in bettering the country. Frankly, it is just too much trouble. I find it challenging enough to get my pupils to be upright responsible people, let alone millions of people who have different cultural values entirely and who I have no say over whatsoever. Instead of being a soft revolutionary I would much rather focus my energies on doing my work as best I can, raising a family of my own and providing them in a country that is already at peace with itself.
I applaud the people who fight endless battles for the greater good; without them freedom and stability would not exist anywhere in the world. But it does not inspire me to do the same. Much like I would never choose to be a policeman although I respect their role in society. As far as I am concerned my contribution to the greater good is simply to be mindful of others and lead a clean, law-abiding life. If everyone were like this there would be no need for festering politics, mass actions and the clatter of voices and weapons.
The barbaric criminal element, epidemics and loose seams of South Africa do not motivate me to take action I am sorry to say. They only make me recoil ever further from ownership and accountability of the country of my birth, until such a time that I find myself living abroad thousands of kilometres away.
From that distance the impetus to spend a perfectly beautiful day in good company discussing the ills of the country dissipates all but completely. Instead we talk about the wonderful things about South Africa, and it warms the heart. We could go on forever. I guess absence really does make the heart grow fonder, and vice versa.
Ryan and I went out for coffee today. We used to go for coffee almost every day last year when we were studying for our teaching certificates. At the time Ryan was hoping to find a teaching post in Grahamstown because his family and friends were here, but in the end he got a job about an hour away by car in Port Alfred. It is also an old English settler town but is even smaller than Grahamstown. The main attraction is the beach and Kowie river, which you can navigate upstream for about 28 kilometres. Apart from outdoor activities though there is not a whole lot to do there. Many working adults live in Port Alfred for the peace and quiet but work in the neighbouring towns. For the kids who are pretty much stuck there all the time it can be a hellishly boring place.
That is why I wasn’t that surprised to hear that Ryan has some real discipline issues to contend with at the local high school where he teaches Maths. His situation is exacerbated by the fact that he is overworked. At the moment he is teaching Natural Science on top of his regular Maths classes, even though it is not his subject area. To add insult to injury he has to teach Natural Science to Grade 8 pupils who are a very different kettle of fish to Grade 10, 11 and 12 pupils which is the band he is qualified to teach. In the beginning he found the situation completely overwhelming and it was not long afterwards that certain parents came down on him like a tonne of bricks. He says that things are running much smoother now, but I am still left to wonder what makes him stick it out. Evidently it is not a job that earns him much respect, either from his pupils or their parents and the pay is hardly seems worth it.
At least in the art school where I teach I am never openly abused. The worst thing my pupils do is to neglect their work and skip lessons but even these are isolated cases and to be honest they don’t particularly bother me… I am there for those who want to learn. I am also not overworked - quite the opposite in fact. Even when I have several classes running concurrently, the kids generally get on with their work on I leave them to their own devices. My input is merely to discuss ideas, show techniques and supervise - hardly strenuous.
I wouldn’t want to teach core a subject like Maths or English, which requires endless explanations, demonstrations and painstaking corrections. I wouldn’t want the pressure from all sides that every kid gets through these subjects either. Particularly if it was in a school like Ryan’s where many of the kids don’t particularly care about even finishing school. I realise there are selfless teachers (perhaps Ryan is one of them) who take it upon themselves to ‘save’ the lost causes no matter how slim the chances or how difficult the process and for these kind of teachers I have infinite admiration, but I am not one of them. Nor do I intend to be. As I mentioned before, the onus I place on myself is simply to teach to the best of my ability - regardless of how many kids actually benefit from it.
I guess this approach is suited to teaching Art and Design because it is not a subject kids are inclined to loath, like Maths. Most kids find making art fun, so they tend to be open to what I have to say in class. My subject area is not the jagged pill that Ryan’s is, that needs to be coaxed down my pupils’ throats with fury and frustration. Thank God for that.
I don’t go out often but I made an exception last night and met up with some people from work at a restaurant called the Yellow House. We had been there a couple of times before and liked it because you can bring in our own wine and not be charged corkage, and because there was no sense of being rushed to finish your meal and leave. The only bad thing about the place is the décor. The walls are a dirty cream and brown with badly framed pictures of cocktails hung up too high to see properly. A half-hearted attempt was made to create a rustic African look by hanging wooden masks here and there and placing an odd assortment of animal sculptures in the on the window sills. I suppose it can be argued that the lack of interior design is what actually gives the place its unpretentiousness, which is its charm.
Anyhow, a band was playing there last night and they seemed a bit like their surroundings at first. The sound equipment had not been not properly adjusted before hand so when they started the vocals where practically inaudible. The guitar caused the speakers to whine and the violinist seemed to drown out the rest of the band. Amid this a faltering start though the two vocalists suddenly did a heartfelt a cappella which silenced the audience immediately and kept them quite for the entire duration. It was brilliant. After that the band somehow got their act together. The restaurant filled up, people started mixing with one another and dancing and a really good vibe was generated.
There are times like last night when I really enjoy being in South Africa. I’ve had the best times of my life in this country and have never been happier elsewhere. I just wish that things were different here and that South Africans could really exist as peacefully together as they did last night when conditions were just right. It would not matter so much then that government is like the restaurant itself, which is basically run very badly; for the sake of good company that can be forgiven. But I don’t see South Africans getting their act together any time soon. Who knows if they ever will?
Grahamstown is quite a charming place with its quiet streets and old colonial buildings nestled between the hills. But, like all small towns out in the middle of nowhere it is also somewhat peculiar. I think the over familiarity one acquires with everything in the town after a while makes it seem peculiar, in the same way that saying a word over and over again makes it sound more and more strange. The locals can also be quite odd. There is this one guy for example who wears a jet-black wig, black sunglasses, a black Stetson, tight black pants and a black top, everyday. He is in his forties and looks like a faded musician. He probably is. I have never seen him smile or talk to anyone. He always seems to be walking somewhere urgently.
A large part of the population is made up of students at the university and school kids. They occupy the town centre and most businesses are geared towards them in one way or another. Sometimes I feel annoyed at always having such young people around me. It is impossible to watch a movie at the cinema for instance that is not filled with kids. Bars, clubs and coffee shops are all filled with students who are for the most part incredibly irritating. I wish there were places for a more discerning crowd like there are in the cities. When the holidays come round Grahamstown feels completely deserted. All the university students and school kids go back home and the locals have the town for themselves for a few months, but it is not much fun sitting at a bar when you are one of three people either.
I was speaking to a teacher here the other day who said that he first came to Grahamstown thinking that he would stay for a year or two and then move on like most people do. But 25 years have gone by since then and he is still here. When I asked him what made him stay he said it was the peace and quiet of the town and the wild landscape of the Eastern Cape, which calms his soul. I tried to imagine myself staying here for that long, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even imagine living here for 5 years. I would miss meeting new people like you do in cities too much and going out to interesting places. I would feel lonely here.
When my sister tells me of her favourite haunts in London and of the fabulous mix of people she met over the past year, I really get the itch to go there as well. I can imagine Nancy and I living fast in London far easier than I can imagine us living nice and slow in Grahamstown. As pretty as it is here, we both feel quite bored and that is a serious condition to suffer from. I think Nancy could bear living here as long as she knew that there was a time limit to it and that we would defiantly be moving to a bigger city down the line. She can be put her mind at rest though. Once I have accomplished what I set out to do in this little town I will be ready to pack my bags and take on the world again.
Lately I have been doing little else besides compiling all the work I have done this year into portfolios and studying for my exams, which started today.
Although the first one went well enough, I couldn’t help feeling put out because of it. I just feel too old to still be writing tests. I don’t mind the idea of studying. That I like. So much so I want to keep on at for the next few years if I can. It’s just the idea of writing tests that gets to me: Having to memorise stuff at home and then sit in a room for three hours and spew it all out again. There’s no point to it anymore.
On Friday I wrote an Afrikaans test to get an endorsement for a second language. Apparently state schools in South Africa require proficiency in at least two of the eleven official languages before they can offer teachers a permanent post. Since I’ll be working at a state school next year I had no choice but do take the test. It wasn’t too bad though. All it entailed was a written comprehension, a piece of writing and a 20-minute oral test afterwards. It was actually quite fun. I was curious to know where my Afrikaans stood anyway because I haven’t spoken more than a few words of it in absolute years. In South Africa Afrikaans people speak Afrikaans to each other and English to pretty much everyone else. The same was true in Taiwan. Although the majority of South Africans there were Afrikaners they always spoke to me in English. Nevertheless, I was glad to discover my Afrikaans is still in working order despite the layer of dust that covers it.
In two short weeks from now my course will be over and I’ll get the certificate that I wanted out of it. It will certainly make me more employable than I was this time a year ago, which is a comfort. To me a teaching qualification is a kind of insurance policy. It guarantees me job in many countries and I feel far more confident to take certain career risks now (like becoming a professional artist) with the sense of security that comes from being able to get a teaching job if it doesn’t work out. Besides, I do like teaching. I could do it as a career quite happily too. It’s just that it's not my dream job… more like my bread and butter job that’s not too bad.
The other day I went into the school where I’ll be working next year and got talking to the sculpture teacher. He is a little older than me and was saying how difficult it was for him to get a job a few years ago. He said that for a long time after the 1994 democratic elections that saw in the new government, white males were the very last choice amongst job applicants, especially for state positions. His CV was constantly overlooked and as an artist he struggled to find a gallery that would even look at his portfolio before they rejected him.
I remember reading and hearing about affirmative action and black empowerment when I was abroad but it never affected me directly. Since I have been back in South Africa the issue has come up a few times, but it was only over the weekend that really struck a chord. I was filling out a hefty application form for the position of a House Warden at one of the student residences at Rhodes University when I came to section that asked to specify if I was Black, Coloured or Asian. Underneath it explained that this information was necessary for equity purposes, but to me it read that the job was not open to whites. I felt incredibly discouraged and reluctant to even complete the form. When I handed it in today I noticed that most of the applications in the box were from black candidates. I would imagine that many whites felt the same way as I did and did not bother wasting their time.
Still, I cling on to the hope that I at least get an interview. A friend of mine who was a Warden for 6 years at the university said that if I get an interview it means that there is a space for a white Warden and that I could well get the job. But she admitted that it is more likely that the university is required to employ a black Warden, even if it means employing someone less qualified or suitable to do the job than other candidates.
I wish that it could be a case of the best man winning, but that is not the way equity works in South Africa. The national rugby team is a perfect example. Even though they won the World Cup this year (which united the country with a sense of pride like nothing else), the coach has been driven to quit and the jubilation that swept through the country has been put out by all the emphasis placed on the fact that the team is made up of mostly white players. It overlooks the fact that the player of year is black and that black people in South Africa are quite comfortable with the idea of rugby being a ‘white’ sport anyway, just as whites are comfortable with the idea of soccer being a ‘black’ sport. The players were chosen according to ability, not colour. One would think that is a more equitable stance.
The employment situation for white males in official posts may be a lot better now that it was for the sculpture teacher I was chatting to, but there is still a lot of reverse discrimination and I have only now began to feel the brunt of it. It is a pity that the powers that be in the South African government practice the same kind of discrimination that they fought so hard to overcome. But such is the world.
In my exam today I wrote an essay on humanism, which argues that people have the capacity to live moral, productive lives in harmony with each other if only they employ reason. Unfortunately this is easier said than done.
For the past few weeks I have been feverishly trying to decide what to do next year once I finish my course. I was considering going to London for the obvious reasons, but then I was offered a job at a lovely school in Cape Town, which made me reconsider staying in South Africa. I was about to accept the job when I was also offered a post at an art school across the road from Rhodes University. The art school job is quite unlike a regular teaching post though. For one it is a specialised school, geared only towards teaching art and design. It is comprised of a sculpture, painting, ceramic, textile, drawing and graphic printmaking studio, each with a designated teacher. The teachers themselves are all artists, so the whole centre is a hub of creativity.
The art school basically caters for the public schools in the Grahamstown area. Pupils who wish to take art as a matric subject come to the art school by bus for their lessons. As such there are kids from three schools who come in at various times in the day for classes. For the kids, the art school is like a huge art classroom off their school campus. For the teachers at the art school, it is like a personal studio where they teach as well. Since there are no assemblies, parent teacher meetings, extra-curricular sport activities and so on at the art school the teachers have far more time on their hands to prepare well conceived lessons and to work on their own projects. Also, with class sizes never more than a few kids it is possible to get to know each pupil and give them proper attention. So unlike regular schools, there are hardly any discipline issues to contend with. The kids are for the most part delighted to get out of their schools for a while to come to the art centre and it clearly shows that they enjoy what they do there.
All in all I really couldn’t wish for a nicer job. Even the late Victorian school buildings and the peaceful area around them are perfect. It is in walking distance to the shops and cafes along High street and close enough to cycle to work every day. And the best thing about working there is that I can continue studying at Rhodes University to get a Masters Degree.
There is one aspect to the job however that is not so great and that is the pay. Some months ago, teachers across South Africa staged a huge four-week strike insisting on a 12% wage increase, with the government eventually agreeing to a 9% increase. Although this a welcome change, government employed teachers still earn an abysmal salary. The money I will earn at the art school will just cover my living expenses. Buying property next year as planned will simply be impossible. Nancy and I could survive off my salary alone, but we will have no way of saving any money unless Nancy finds a job, which may be difficult in Grahamstown. The only way to make a living is for us to start up a business of sorts. With the money I would have used as a deposit on a house I’ll try and set Nancy up with a little shop or something. Meanwhile, I’ll focus on building up a body of artwork that I can exhibit and make money off down the line.
Perhaps the lack of money in teaching is precisely the impetus I need to take my work as an artist very seriously, and for Nancy to seriously figure out how to get a business off the ground. We have both been toying with these ideas since we met, but until last year earning comfortable salaries made us too complacent to actually act on them. Now it is a matter of necessity.
If in a year or two I really have not made it as an artist and Nancy and I have failed to generate money by our own invention, I have no reservation about moving to England to earn those precious Pounds. The opportunity to earn money by teaching there is there to stay, but until I’m forced to take it up, I’m going to make a go of things in South Africa. If I do end up going to the UK down the line, I will at least have gained some teaching experience and hopefully a Masters to my name, which will get me a better job. As for Nancy, her English will have improved dramatically, which will make life in England so much smoother… Anyway, for now I am excited to experience what it is to have an enjoyable job. It is something I have wished for ever since I graduated from university seven years ago.
Almost everyday for the past year I have been going to St. Andrew’s College and the Diocesan School for Girls across the road as part of my teacher training. In that time I have become quite familiar with the two schools, especially College where I did the bulk of my teaching practice. I have made friends with the staff, gotten to know the kids, learnt the layout of the campus and generally figured out how things run.
Just as I am well settled into the school though I am done with my teaching training. Today was the last day I had to go into the schools, and I must say that I am going to miss it. Both of the schools are lovely places to teach. The pupils are polite and respectful and the staff a welcoming team. The schools are beautifully maintained too, which makes working there that much more pleasurable. With all the resources and facilities available at the schools there is no limit to what can be taught or produced by the kids and that too makes them stimulating, creative places to work.
Going into a school next year with the usual discipline issues and a low budget is going to be a tough adjustment. Hopefully I’ll get a job at a school more in line with College and DSG and avoid the harsh reality of teaching that is the norm. I leave for Johannesburg this evening to see my cousin and his wife who were recently married in Italy. While I am up there I’ll drop my CV off at some good schools. Then I fly down to the Cape to see my sister and go for an interview at St. Andrew’s brother school in Claremont. When I return to Grahamstown next week I’ll have an interview lined up at an art school across the road from the university. I would imagine that at least one of the schools will offer me a post for 2008. In the mean time I am still strongly considering going to the UK next year to find a post there. The exchange rate between the British Pound and South African Rand is 14 to 1, which makes it an attractive option from a financial point of view. Also, the chance to live a train ride away from various enchanting European countries is appealing.
My fate at the moment is subject to the way the wind blows, but I am not too put out by that. Whichever direction I go to from here seems fine.
