/ 2 May 2006

Tomorrow people eye SA

What do South Africa’s ”born frees” — who came into the world after the death of apartheid, or were too young to remember it — know about their country’s traumatic past? Do African high school pupils know or care about the suffering and sacrifices of their parents and grandparents? What is left of the inflamed political passions of township youth in the 1980s? And do white pupils feel any regret over the racial edifice erected and sustained by their parents’ and grandparents’ generations?

Do politics mean much to the free-born of all races, and how much awareness do they have of lingering inequality in South Africa? What do they think of the present government? How much racial consciousness remains in an era of multi-racial schooling and racial mixing in every sphere of South African life? How do youngsters see their peers of other races? Are there differences of outlook depending on where their schools and homes are situated? Who are their heroes, and how do they see the wider world of which South Africa is now part?

As Freedom Day drew near, these issues were explored in a Mail & Guardian survey of ”born-free” high-school pupils of all races, and at state schools of four distinct kinds — suburban, city centre, township and rural. The real question is: Have our children been changed by 12 years of democracy?

From their largely vague responses, which centred on separate facilities and influx control, it was clear that the details of South Africa’s violent and divided past have become somewhat misty for the free-born. Perhaps the most knowledgeable answer to the question ”What was apartheid?” came from Jaydee Verster, a 14-year-old white pupil from Jeppe High School for Boys in Johannesburg.

”Whites were racist to black people and didn’t let them go to certain toilets and sit on certain benches. They were also not allowed to play certain sports,” began Verster excitedly. ”They were in jail and when they died, they [the apartheid regime] said they killed themselves or went on hunger strike. Most of them were on Robben Island.”

Of all the kids we spoke to in and around Johannesburg, Verster was the only one who associated apartheid with Robben Island.

His counterpart, 14-year-old Nkhensani Mdakane from Fidelitas High School in Diepkloof, Soweto, thought of Robben Island more as a tourist destination. Although she impressed by using the phrase ”separated development”, she only brought up the infamous prison at the tail-end of our quiz, in answer to the question: ”Which foreign country would you like to visit, and why?” ”I would like to go to Robben Island because it has all the history that I want to see, where Nelson Mandela stayed and more about the way they lived.”

The more children we spoke to, the more certain general attitudes emerged. The most clear-cut was a widespread lack of interest in politics, a belief in racial equality, adoration of the United States and admiration of Nelson Mandela.

Political disenchantment was expressed more vociferously in some cases than others. ”Politicians, all they do is talk rubbish,” said Dylan Gerber (14), a white pupil at Parktown Boys High in Johannesburg. ”They sit in Parliament and talk about nonsense.”

Thabiso Mncwabe (14), from Fidelitas High, offered a more sombre reason for his indifference. ”Political matters have resulted in many councillors getting killed. I just heard in the news that some councillors got killed recently.”

This may reflect Mncwabe’s origins in the former killing fields of Pietermaritzburg. He is certainly not your average 14-year-old. His example of apartheid was unusual (”A white person would buy first in a shop even if you were there first”) and his township home and school environment seem to have fostered sharper race consciousness.

Although he shared his peers’ views about equality, his hero was Jacob Zuma. ”I like him, he’s one of us.” Pushed for clarification, he added: ”He’s a black person. He’s a good leader.”

Although most children affirmed their belief in the equality of the races, Verster went a step further, remarking: ”Black people are cool. He’s my best friend,” he said, pointing to schoolmate Ricky Tshabalala. ”I like their music and I like how they dance. It’s better than white culture. They got sangomas and stuff and we only have churches.”

Tshabalala, while espousing the same ideals as his friend, is disappointed by the racial cliquishness he sees around him. ”Sometimes, like in school, we have different groups. The white group will sit alone and the black group will sit alone. They make jokes that discriminate about colour. Some people think they’re better because they’re white,” he said.

His black pal, Daniel Gatenye, brushed this off, emphasising the lighter side of group relations. ”Here at school we only use race jokingly, not in a bad way,” he countered.

Most kids interviewed, especially in inner city and township schools, were shockingly naive about the world and global politics. In particular, they have a fantasy view of the US as the land of milk and honey. ”There are better opportunities there and less poverty,” said an enthusiastic Nomkhosi Nhlapo, a grade nine pupil at Lofentse High School in Orlando, Soweto. ”There are no hobos and street kids. I would also like to see celebrities like Mario and Chris Brown.”

Yanga Nkhonza (13), of Vector College in the Johannesburg city centre, said he would like to go to New York to see what the people looked like there. ”I think people there don’t steal like in South Africa. There is crime there, but it’s not worse like ours. I think I’d feel safer there.”

Mncwabe, the young Zuma supporter, also wanted to visit the US ”to see a lot of things and learn about them” so that he could return and help black people. ”The economy is big,” he added as an afterthought.

Mandela, it appeared, was revered by all as the quintessential hero for helping to rid South Africa of apartheid. Some, rather endearingly, idolised their mothers. Bathobile Maseko, from Lofentse High School, had a somewhat unexpected response: ”My hero is [kwaito singer] Zola,” she said, as we sat in her teacher’s office. ”He has motivated me in many ways and he is more of a people’s person. He doesn’t discriminate. He treats strangers like family.”

Maseko wanted to visit Zimbabwe because she couldn’t comprehend ”why they let him [Robert Mugabe] do these things for them. I want to know why every election, he wins.”

Interviewees in suburban schools, such as Jeppe, were colour-blind to the point of confusion. The boisterous Tshabalala referred to affirmative action as ”weird”. ”I don’t like it, he complained. ”We need to be equal.”

Inner-city learners in general feel that the level of racism has declined in South Africa, despite the continued existence of white people who show contempt for blacks.

”I think apartheid still happens in South Africa,” protested Ayanda Manana from Vector College. ”The Afrikaners are the most racist. I hate talking to them. They treat black people very badly.”

Her township school counterparts hold the same views. Zola’s fan Maseko also fingered Afrikaners. ”When we visit a place where there are Boers, they don’t treat us with respect. They think we don’t have what it takes to be people.”

Muslim pupils in Durban seemed to be more politically aware. Sixteen-year-old Sumaya Hendricks from Orient Islamic School, for example, had a more profound understanding of apartheid. ”I think other than all the history that they put into history books, you know, the policies they implemented — The Land Act, et cetera — I think it went much deeper than that,” she argued. ”Yes, people say South Africa is not developed because of the colonial past, but if you look at the other countries which were also colonised by Britain, like Canada and Australia, they are First World countries now.

”If it was not for apartheid, we wouldn’t have the unemployment problem, the crime rate that we have now. Essentially apartheid hindered our progress as a country, as a people, as a nation.”

To exemplify apartheid, she described how her father was forcibly removed from Cape Town’s District Six. ”It was him and his 11 brothers and sisters,” she recalled. ”Also the job opportunities weren’t very good, so he had to do odd jobs, and eventually he had to move to Port Elizabeth and work for Volkswagen. He was the first non-white to work for the marketing department at VW.”

Asked about how she viewed other races, Hendricks offered yet another anecdote. ”I was watching this TV programme the other day and they were saying that it was so amazing that there was this guy who came into the school with a gun,” she said. ”The teachers were like ”Okay, what is his nationality?” and the kids could describe exactly what he was wearing, yet those small kids couldn’t say if he was Indian or black. They couldn’t remember.

”That just shows this new generation that is coming up. Yes, we may have our faults and, yes, we may be known as the throwaway generation, but in terms of race we are much more embracing of diversity. If you talk to older people there is that little bit of anguish.”

Perhaps because of KwaZulu-Natal’s 10-year civil war and the deep political polarities there, even rural pupils in the province seemed more politically sophisticated. Khulilile Maphumulo (18), of Lihlithemba Secondary School, Ndwedwe, described apartheid as ”like when white people were making black, Indian and coloured people slaves, or when president Mandela was arrested and the things they did to him and others in jail, like torturing them”.

Maphumulo says he is very interested in politics, declaring passionately that Freedom Day ”is all the people who sacrificed for us to be free today”. Although he does not like President Thabo Mbeki, he concedes that the government is ”okay” and ”better than the previous one”.

He even showed a hint of class consciousness. He believes there is still ”a little bit of apartheid in this time. Even though [the politicians] are saying we are free, they are saying that only for them, because they are on top, not for people around here. Last year I read this newspaper story about a black family, there were six of them, and they were working on a white farm and they were all living in this tank, all six of them.”

Like his counterparts in Gauteng, he is a non-racial idealist who doesn’t ”see a problem with any sort of colour. I see a person as a person, not like in the colour of their skin or anything.”

Lungile Mzobe (17), from the same rural school, focused on the racial separation at the root of apartheid. ”From what I’ve read and people have told me, people were grouped into particular groups because of their races and you had whites, blacks, Indians coloureds.”

But Mzobe is enthused by life’s possibilities, he breathes an excitement and a sense of larger horizons that was absent from the rural people of his parents’ generation. He, too, would most like to visit the US, magical symbol of opportunity, more than any other country. He is ”not particularly” interested in politics, and while he includes Mandela among his heroes, he also waxes lyrical about actress Sonia Mbele, the ”first person I’d like to meet”. ”I’m studying drama and just her art, the way she dresses, her style of acting, I’d definitely like to meet her. I feel drama is in my heart,” he says. He also wants to meet American R&B singers Kelly Rowlands and R Kelly.

Mzobe is impatient with the view that black people are still hampered by the remnants of apartheid. ”We are holding on to the past, which we should just forget about and move on. The people responsible for apartheid are deceased now, so we must concentrate on the future.

”Much has taken place. I’m doing grade 12 now, whereas if I look at my four grandparents, they only did grade three. Then it was said that if you could write your name and write a letter to your boyfriend, then you are well educated.

”I think in past years, even if you had skills and the ability, because of the colour of your skin you wouldn’t have been able to.”