Tribute to Mandela: my visit to Soweto

Yes, I know, I have been procrastinating since my last post 3 months ago. My travels in Africa finished on September 1st, day I came back to the US. However, not a day passes that I don't remember the fantastic adventures that I encountered, the life changing experiences I had and the great people I met throughout Zambia, Mozambique, Swaziland, South Africa and Namibia.

The expected but nonetheless sad death of Nelson Mandela, a great leader and person for whom I have a profound admiration, has inspired me to keep telling stories about my travels in Africa, a continent that as time passes is even more present in my thoughts. I've decided to tell you about the day I visited Orlando East in Soweto, not too far from where the great and compassionate Madiba lived for some years.

Rather than joining one of those day tours offered by so many agencies, I decided to go to Soweto on my own. It was August 18th. I was staying at Joburg Backpackers, in Emmarentia, one of the city's northern privileged neighborhoods. I woke up early, before 8 am as most days. After a quick and light tea and toasts breakfast, I came out to the main road and stopped a minibus, a shared taxi van that would take me to Joburg downtown after a 20 minute-ride for 10 Rand (1$). I got off at Braamfontein district, one of the most sought after downtown neighborhoods. It was a sunny but chilly Sunday morning, very quiet streets just about awakening. I walked for 15 minutes to Park Station, the city's main transportation hub. It is here where most of suburban and nationwide trains and buses depart from and arrive to.

Ghandi Square, Joburg downtown

Once inside Park Station, I found my way around to the sub-rail ticket office and bought a return trip to Orlando East station. I was directed to go to platform 7 to take the train. It was a dark and somehow rundown part of the otherwise state-of-the-art station, after all the investment that flew in to upgrade its installations prior to the 2010 Soccer World Cup. I got on one of the wagons of the train and sat down on one of the two long benches that faced each other along the wagon's length. It was half full of passengers waiting for the train to go.

It took about 45 minutes, long enough for the train to have all its seats occupied and have many other passengers standing up. In all that time, I counted more than 20 vendors walking along the wagon and selling snacks, home ornaments, pencils, notebooks, cheap jewelry such as earrings, necklaces and fake-branded watches etc. Some kids looked at me shyly and would take their eyes away when mine encountered theirs. I came to learn that many kids in Africa, not only in Johannesburg, weren't used to coming across a long-bearded white man as I then was. I sometimes played the trick of suddenly pretending that I was a monster with my mouth open and hands raised in the air in a chasing and menacing posture, which made them scream and run away at first and laugh, giggle and look for more after.

I bought some chocolate bars from one of the snack vendors as some others did, made notes on my diary and then rested my head on the wagon's wall while seated. The silence reigned in the atmosphere, most people were absorbed by their own thoughts while we all waited for the train to hit the rail track. My own thoughts were of wondering why such a long wait: is it always like this? do they always wait until the train is full? are there really few services connecting Joburg downtown and Soweto's several stations? or hopefully is it because it's Sunday?

The ride to Orlando East took just about half and hour. Throughout the journey, I must admit that I constantly thought about what awaited me in Soweto. It was a mix of curiosity and anxiety to the unknown. Many people, mostly locals, at the backpackers accommodation where I was staying had warned me about going on this visit all by myself. They tried to create an image of Soweto of being a very dangerous place. I would soon find out that they had totally exaggerated, or maybe they were just trying to get me to sign up for one of their guided tours.

When I arrived, I decided to follow other passengers out of the station. I had a very good first impression.  I felt at ease straight away. There were a couple of vendors of snacks on both sides of the pedestrian road. I could also see one of the street kiosks where you can buy pay-as-you-go airtime for your mobile phone. I walked for another two minutes and found a group of about 12 teenagers playing basketball in a public park. I watched them play for a few minutes before heading up the road into a nearby residential area. It was a very pleasant early afternoon. Several families of two adults with one, two or three kids were walking in different directions. A pair of boys in their late teens were moving rhythmically as they walked to the sounds of some funk music that I couldn't recognize.

Small kids were playing in the yard of one of the many detached houses that were common in the neighborhood. A young couple in their early twenties were strolling down the nicely-paved street as they held hands.

After about 15 minutes wandering around, I took a turn into one of the side streets. There was a group of small kids aged 6 or 7 playing around. A couple of young women would supervise them from the doors of their houses. One man in his mid forties came out from his house through the yard's gate and got on his car. Several seconds after he would be driving slowly in my direction. A couple of minutes after, I saw two men in their fifties chatting friendly in one of the house's yard while they leaned on the barred fence that surrounded the property. They looked at me across the street as I passed by.

I kept walking along the street. A couple of hundred meters after, I decided to turn around and approach those two men in search of a bit of conversation. As I got closer, I greeted them in the distance. They looked somehow surprised. As I got by the fence, I introduced myself and apologized for interrupting their conversation. From the house's yard and the other side of the fence, the usual questions of where are you from and what are you doing in Soweto followed. When I explained that I had taken the train from downtown Joburg and that I was visiting on my own, one of them offered himself to escort me and show me around. The other one excused himself for being tired and made a couple of suggestions of where we should go. In no time, we were off wandering around Soweto's nooks and crannies.

Jabu, that was his name, told me that he had been in the construction business for over 20 years. He was self-employed and had a small team of plumbers, electricians and carpenters that helped him provide his services in Soweto. His main customer was the local government. He would bid for contracts to build the utilities infrastructure for civil buildings such as schools, government offices and the likes. We talked as he took me to a shebeen of a friend of his. After 15 minutes, we were in front of a small detached house. The gate to the yard was open so we walked in and went around the right facade to the back of the house. We walked in and were greeted by a gentle man who introduced himself as Johannes Thadi. Mr. Thadi, the owner of the shebeen, welcomed us to sit down around the room's only table and asked what we'd like to drink. I ordered a 75 cl bottle of Hansa beer to share with Jabu. Mr Thadi opened it for us and handed us two small glasses.

From left to right: Mr. Thadi, Jabu and Ntambo

The shebeen's room was a small place that served also as a kitchen. I figured that that house wasn't only a place that served as the neighborhood's bar but also as Mr Thadi's home. I learnt it's quite common in South Africa. Minutes after we arrived, we met Mr Thadi's wife, who was preparing lunch. As I repeated my origins, told stories about my travels in Africa and started making conversation and feeling very comfortable, I asked Mr Thadi to please join us at the table. He accepted. I ordered more beer that we all shared together. Other customers walked in and joined the party. They all introduced themselves very politely and took an interest in finding out about my persona. Someone I remember very warmly is Ntambo Nhlapo, a young man in his thirties, father of one and employed at Macsteel, one of Africa's leaders in the production and supply of steel. We had an interesting conversation about his job, the company's recent implementation of SAP and my background in CRM technologies.

After about 20 minutes the place was packed, I was sharing beer with the whole table and we started talking about politics. They told me some stories about the country during the apartheid era, their own perspectives and how things had improved since Mandela became the first democratic president in 1994. It was a great conversation and I felt so privileged to have the opportunity to share those moments with them all. After a while I began to feel hungry. I asked where I could go get some local food. Mr Thadi suggested we went to a place he knew not far from there. We went together. We got to a house where a group of three young men in their late twenties were cooking chicken livers, kidneys and hearts cooked in big frying pan with onion, green peppers and spices. We watched them cook until it was ready. I then realized that I'd forgotten my wallet in my jacket at the shebeen. I went back while Mr Thadi waited for me at the cooking house. On the way back, a little boy aged not more than 8, came to greet me and ask my name. He started following me to the shebeen. Suddenly I saw a young woman come out for the next door's house asking the little boy to come back. He wouldn't listen to her. She started yelling. I asked the boy to please obey his mum and not to come with me to the shebeen. I walked in, got my wallet and came out again. The kid was with his mum, long-faced, and there were two men next to them who confronted me and asked why I had made the kid follow me. I explained to them that I hadn't and how I suggested him to listen to his mother. My answers were apparently enough to calm these two men down and clear their erroneous suspicions about my intentions. I think the fact that I mentioned that I was with Mr Thadi, the shebeen's owner also helped. They apologized for their reaction and I made my way back to rejoin Mr Thadi at the local cooking house.

Chicken livers with onion, peppers and spices

I bought quite a large amount of those chicken livers and shima, the staple food made with ground white corn. Back at the shebeen, we all ate and shared from the same plate. Between the time I spent to find my way around, meeting Jabu, all the interesting conversation around the table, the drinking of beer and the sharing of food at the shebeen, time had flown by and I didn't realize it was nearly 4 pm. I wanted to get back to Johannesburg before the sunset. One of the visitors to the shebeen, a lady named Clarys, offered to give me a lift. Jabu, probably feeling responsible for my well being, came along. They were all so attentive and nice. I said goodbye to all my new friends in Soweto and got on the car with Clarys and Jabu. On the way back to downtown Joburg, they gave me a little tour around other areas of Soweto, they took me to the Soccer City Stadium, where Spain had won the World title in 2010, they showed me the old gold mines in the south of the city, the place that became the epicenter of gold production and one of the main reasons, if not the one, why Johannesburg is the thriving metropolis that is today.

With Mr. Thadi, owner of the Shebeen at 5208 Mota Street, Orlando East

I had a great experience with my new friends of Soweto. With some of them, I'm still in contact today. In a sad time when Mandela has finally left us, I'm sure that with people like Jabu, Johannes, Ntambo, Clarys and all the others, South Africa will reach new heights never expected 25 years ago. Mandela's transformational dedication to its truest convictions to build a more just and better world can be seen in Soweto. These lines are just a modest tribute to his legacy. A legacy that is with us today and I'm sure will be around us forever. If you're ever in Johannesburg or anywhere else in South Africa, pay a visit to Soweto and let me know if you want me to put you in contact with these lovely guys. Their warmth and hospitality contributed to one of the most memorable days I had in my my 4-month travels in Africa.

Long live Mandela!