South Africa: Different Strokes For Different Folks

More than twenty years after achieving freedom from white domination, South Africa is still full of promise but ridden with shocking contradictions, which may yet be its undoing. On a recent visit, your correspondent met a diverse range of people who live in the same country, but whose lifestyles segregate them from each other as effectively as under the Apartheid regime.

Let me begin at the bottom of the pie. A brutally capitalist country where the old European colonial class still own most of the capital, black South Africans have to find any available work in order to survive. In this they must also compete with other African immigrant, willing to take low paying jobs or set up small businesses in the black townships.

These are the victims of the so-called “xenophobia” that flares up every once in a while, most recently around the city of Pretoria, capital of the country. Especially hated are the Somali and Nigerian shopkeepers and roadside sellers, whose thrift and success is resented by idle (and often drunk)township youth.

A huge array of opportunities have opened up for black South Africans in the last twenty years. The well educated and well connected have grabbed it with both hands and created a decent life for themselves. This black middle class is growing and a few lucky members have clambered into the upper echelons of the most developed economy in Africa.

But for most black South Africans, not much has changed since the end of Apartheid. In the morning they take buses from distant townships to the city to work in white or Asian owned businesses. I rode these mini buses( which are called taxis in South Africa) more than once into Cape Town city center. From my hotel, which is six kilometers away, you pay eight rands, which is little over half a dollar.

I also used the normal taxis, which are in two categories, the new and clean ones that charge based on meter readings and are run by companies and old rickety ones driven by individuals with whom you negotiate tariff. ( Uber, which is growing in popularity, is included in the former).

Most of the private taxis are driven by African immigrants. In my short stay I met an Ethiopian, but mostly Zimbabwean drivers. They all had similar stories, heading down South from their troubled countries, to eke a living on jobs that black South Africans would normally find unappealing. One morning a Zimbabwean taxi driver took me into the city, but he could not change a hundred rand bill, so we asked a road side hawker selling fruit and vegetables, who turned out to be from Lagos State!( Even while I offered to buy some bananas, he too did not have enough change).

The Zimbabwean driver told me most of his family members have moved to South Africa either to school or work. He said if he worked long hours, he was able to pay the owner of the vehicle and still make something for himself. His major challenge is crime, which is rampant in parts of the city. He said he once made the mistake of taking two young men into one of the townships, but instead of earning the handsome fare agreed, they beat him up and dispossessed him of his phone and money.

The well heeled are increasingly turning to Uber and other branded taxis for their transport needs. I used Uber twice to and from Gordon bay, which is an enclave by the sea, an hour from the city. I was visiting the friend of a friend, a German Engineer who had settled in settled in South Africa during Apartheid, founded a company, sold his stake on retirement and now lives comfortably by the beach.

His small apartment is in a very secure estate on the Gordon bay and not far off he has a big boat, which has three bedrooms and two toilets. With one of his teenage sons manning the controls, he and his wife, another of his friends and myself spent an idyllic afternoon cruising the bay, nibbling on seafood and drinks. On the surface life has been kind to him. He has all the gadgets money can buy, but he is also full of fears about the direction the country is going and what future this portends for his four children.

As the sun was setting on the horizon my hosts summoned an Uber car for me from the boat. The driver turned out to be a young Zulu woman, who looks and talks like someone from Eastern Nigeria. She is a rare South African who likes Nigeria and who visits our country two or three times a year. She rattles of names of places she has been in Lagos, Port Harcourt and Enugu.

A follower of Pastor T B Joshua, both she and her husband are doing well in business, yet believe strongly in the “prosperity gospel” preached by pastors like Joshua. They have three children and live what sounds like a good, if busy lives. However instead of enjoying their money like my friends on the boat, they spend it chasing the dream of more manna from heaven!

It seems that the South African followers of T B Joshua have not only forgotten, but have forgiven the death of dozens of their countrymen, when a poorly constructed hostel in his Lagos church collapsed in September 2014. My Uber driver said they believe it is “enemies” of the good pastor that caused the incidence to tarnish his name. His following is still strong in South Africa, as indeed that of other Nigerian pastors, like Chris Oyakhilome of the Christ Embassy, whose worship center is a short walk from my hotel.

Especially in a tourist magnet like Cape Town, the South African dream is within the reach of locals and foreigners determined to make it. Many rich Africans have bought homes and businesses around the Cape of Good Hope! One of my contacts is an academic from Ghana, who lives in a beautiful house in the suburbs, with one of the most impressive libraries you have ever seen.

He has lived in nine African countries, but told me without any sentiments “look, I am here to stay”. You understand if you see the research center he founded and runs and his home, which is an extension of his work environment. There are few places in Africa where things can work so seamlessly. The professor is in his seventies and classmate of the recently elected president of his country, (who has visited his Cape Town home). But he prefers to keep in touch with the rest of Africa from his haven near the Table Mountain, and who can blame him?

I was in Cape Town, partly for work and then a brief holiday. For the work bit, we stayed on a well known wine farm called Spiers, which has hosted many a grand event. The same white family has owned it since 1692, but it has seen much change.

Now it is a farm resort, with a 150 room four star hotel, three restaurants, a full fledged Spa, wine tasting lounge and shop (much frequented by Chinese tourists), a bakery and many other specialized shops.

All this on the bank of a gurgling river, surrounded by vast acres of greenery and dotted with many small lakes. I arrived at night, but when I opened the door of my garden room the following morning, my nose and eyes were welcomed by smell and sight of pear trees in bloom.

There was no one around to ask if the fruits were part of room service, so I did what came naturally! Like other commercial farms in the Stellenbosch area, Spiers is so large many workers move about on bicycles. Visitors are welcome to borrow one and circle the five or ten kilometers exercise track around the farm. It’s ages since I had been on a bicycle, but I quickly got the hang of it and flowed with the early morning breeze every day before breakfast.

Judging by the huge chunks of steak and endless bottles of wine I saw disappearing down many throats, food and wine are Spiers main attraction. Capetownians and tourists come in busloads to eat grass-fed meats and drink vintage wines from its vineyards. Not being a keen meat eater or indeed wine drinker, Ibn Battuta was happy with the salads and fruits, which come straight from the farm to the table. It was on the whole a refreshing and relaxing experience, which is the main impression a visitor takes away from Cape Town.