What sets Cape Town apart is the people
I LANDED with my family in Cape Town on New Year’s Eve. This new year heralded a major change in our lives as we moved from our home country, India, to South Africa. I was obviously apprehensive of what lay in store for us, but the moment I set foot in the city and filled my lungs with the clean and crisp air, I knew this was the beginning of something wonderful.
As our car meandered through the circuitous routes of Constantia, I wondered why there were no street lights. My chauffeur explained that this was a deliberate decision to reduce the incidence of house break-ins in the area.
This revelation sent a chill down my spine, but I tried to console myself by thinking that such crime is there in every city of the world, including New Delhi.
My unfamiliarity with the new house and the complicated alarm systems gave me sleepless nights and drove me to the edge every time the alarm went off in the middle of the night. However, slowly I began to grow bolder and bolder as I realised that rodents, rather than humans, were the chief trouble-makers.
Human beings have a natural, inherent propensity to be judgemental and to categorise unfamiliar people or objects.
As a traveller to different countries and cultures, I have witnessed this several times, and sometimes, much to my dislike, I realise that I, too, am guilty of this tendency.
However, on my first visit to the Pick n Pay supermarket, I was pleasantly surprised by the open-mindedness and non-judgemental attitude of the people of Cape Town.
I have lived in London and done grocery shopping at ASDA, Tesco and other supermarkets and, as a result, I am well aware of the requirement of weighing the open vegetables before taking them to the checkout counter. However, like most human beings, I easily forget my lessons, so I landed at the till with unweighed vegetable bags.
When the cashier didn’t swipe a packet of potatoes, but put it aside, I realised my mistake and began to apologise for this oversight. I expected her to grimace or utter something disparaging about foreigners, but instead, she asked one of her helpers to collect all the unweighed bags and take them for weighing.
Much abashed, I offered to pay for all the other items and go with the helper and then rejoin the queue later. Again, much to my surprise, she didn’t ask me to re-queue – instead she offered to wait until her helper returned with the weighed packets. I looked sheepishly at the people queued up behind me and gave a shame-faced smile.
What greeted me were nods of understanding and smiles of patience. I just felt a strong sense of acceptance, not only of myself, but of the idea that humans are fallible.
During the period of my threemonth stay in this city, my first impression of the tolerant and thoughtful nature of the people of Cape Town has been continuously reaffirmed.
My five-and-a-half-year-old son has been having a hard time adjusting to the place, including a completely new system of education. This has made him a lot more demanding and petulant.
The early morning drop-offs to school are often the peak time for his tantrums and a source of great chagrin for me, as a saga of crying and grumpiness unfolds before my chauffeur.
In order to avoid triggering my son’s tantrums, I tried to maintain the steely exterior of a mother who has everything under control, though I cringed inwardly every time my son peevishly refused to respond to the cheerful morning greetings of the chauffeur. However, my chauffeur managed to defuse the situation with a much more considerate gesture.
Initially, he tried talking to my son in the car, hoping to distract him, but soon he realised that language itself was an issue for my son and this unfamiliarity with English, particularly the accent, was making him more reticent.
After a week, my chauffeur stopped greeting my son with words. Instead, he began greeting him with a small surprise candy, or an acorn or a flower, or with the prospect of something new like opening the sun roof every morning.
Soon, I noticed that my son looked forward to getting into the car in the mornings and the two of them had established an unspoken bond of mutual understanding and respect. Instead of judging my child as a spoiled brat, or as a naturally irritable kid, here was someone who could understand the baffling, yet very palpable, struggles of a child.
One doesn’t need to be a psychologist to understand what’s wrong with someone; all that is needed is a bit of empathy. It is this empathy towards others that, for me, has been the highlight of my discovery of the city of Cape Town.
On a much larger scale, this exceptional combination of empathy and tolerance has helped Capetonians in finding their way out of the water crisis, which could have easily deteriorated into a disaster had Capetonians not made a concerted and sincere effort to reduce their water consumption.
I was one of the naysayers who felt that the idea of asking residents to reduce their water consumption would hardly make any dent and that the days to come spelled doom, with water hoarding and public paranoia, or even civil unrest.
But I must say, once again, Capetonians’ efforts revealed a deep sense of empathy and righteousness. Everyone I spoke to about this situation spoke of the ways in which they had personally managed to reduce their consumption.
Thus, instead of adopting a denial stance and playing the blame game, the people got their act together and pulled out of this crisis. I think we Indians, and even the world, have a lesson to learn from Capetonians: change begins with us.
We should not look to others to conserve the environment or to preserve water, nor should we expect the government, or others, to step in to solve our problems. Instead, we should be the change that we want to see and, if we act rather than react, we can definitely make a huge difference.
It is the absence of this will to act, and the sense of being able to make a difference, that has been one of the biggest impediments in realising the aims of the Swach Bharat Abhiyan (Clean India Campaign) started by the Indian government which exhorts all citizens to keep their surroundings clean.
However, most citizens believe in keeping their houses clean but have no qualms about dumping garbage in their neighbour’s yard, or any other public spot. This lack of empathy for others, along with the belief that one person cannot make a difference, has been one of the principal drawbacks of this campaign.
I, too, have often given in to the reprehensible tendency of passing the buck by blaming the municipality for not doing enough and expecting the citizens to do everything.
I think it is time the citizens of India and denizens of this planet realise their potential to make a difference and take their well-being, as well as that of others, seriously.
This world boasts many vibrant and scenic metropoles but what sets Cape Town apart is the people of this city. I don’t feel like a tourist in this city – here to shop, enjoy the tourist spots and click pictures. Instead, I feel like an integral part of a sea of humanity that flows through this city. The essence of this city cannot be captured by photos: it has to be felt and lived and taken along as a guide to being human – imperfect but incredible.