Of Black alumni and other apartheid memories

The recent invitation to the launch of the University of Cape Town (UCT) Black Alumni Association, has me thinking about my time at UCT in the early 1980s. 

My fondest memory of my grandfather, who was  a delivery truck driver, was of him coming home, his pockets jingling with coins, which were to be deposited into the little money box in his cupboard for my "education". By the time I was ready for university, he had saved enough to pay for the first year of tuition. Being accepted at UCT engendered mixed emotions in me. I was the only person in my class at school to be accepted at UCT, (not many students from my year did in fact go to university) and I was proud to be the first person in my family to make it to university. But this was tempered by the humiliation of having to apply to the Department of Coloured Affairs for a permit to attend a "white" university. I was granted permission on the basis that the university for "coloured people" did not offer the course I wished to study. 

To say that attending UCT was a culture shock, is putting it mildly. In addition, I was based on medical campus which was known to be more conservative than the main campus.  Out of a class of 25, there were three of us who were "not white" and only two people who had blazed the way before us, as the first "non-white" occupational therapists to graduate from UCT. The only "white" people I knew were the Irish nuns at my school and one or two teachers who had passed through. So there we were, like flies in a jug of milk!

I think the general feeling among "black" students was that we should do what we came to do (be educated) but not engage in the "normal" life of university since our acceptance there was not normal. For example, we were discouraged from using the university cafeteria since we weren't generally able to eat in whatever restaurants we wanted to. We were also discouraged from participating in sport since how could we play normal sport in an abnormal society?

I cannot say that I experienced any overt racism in my class - we were a small department and generally got on well with each other. There were many parties at student's houses which, in itself, was almost schizophrenia-inducing since it was by no means normal for me to be socialising with "white" people. There was one girl who I became quite friendly with and I spent a lot of time at her house which, ironically, is about 5 minutes from where we now live, in a previously-"white" neighbourhood. However, I was shattered when she and her family  returned from their holiday in the US and reported that their American family was so impressed that their daughter had "a little coloured friend". Those words were like a slap in the face, like I was some kind of novelty. 

Going about the day to day life of becoming an occupational therapist was also fraught with the intricacies of apartheid SA. When it came to clinical practice in the hospitals, we were not allowed to treat "white" patients. In my third year I was posted to a very difficult placing in a psychiatric hospital which I struggled with - however, I could not be placed in the relatively easier ward that my fellow students were going to in the general hospital, since the patients there were "white". 

In spite of these obstacles, I graduated and was offered a job at the hospital that I dreamed of working at. I spent almost fifteen years loving what I was doing as an occupational therapist. I have two friends from university who have travelled the paths of studying, working, marriage, motherhood and more over the years with me. Both of them are still working as occupational therapists, one in the US and the other here in SA. From time to time I bump into other alumni and it is always good to catch up. 

I do believe, though, that my time at university could have been so much more, and I could have embraced much more of what such a prestigious university had to offer, if it were not for the times we were living in. I'm not sure that I want to be part of the Black Alumni Association. I'm not sure what it is hoping to address - a support for all of us who have bitter-sweet memories of our time at UCT? Perhaps there are some "white" alumni who would also like to be a part of that healing?

Look at us now!

A little while ago I read an article in the newspaper about an archaeological finding in SA that has been hushed up since the 1930's. The finding is thought to be about a 1000 years old and includes gold artifacts and glass beads from India, proving that the early inhabitants of the area must have been established traders. The finding was suppressed because it was contrary to the Apartheid policy that Africans were uncivilised.

Sometimes out of the blue, I realise just how oppressed we were - how controlled every aspect of our lives was and how successful Apartheid policy was in controlling us. We don't realise the miracle that democracy is, that we have overcome the brain-washing of more than 40 years to be where we are today. Certainly, the Apartheid curriculum for the "Department of Coloured, Bantu or Indian Affairs" did not allow for any independent thought.

I was thinking about this after helping my daughter edit her History essay a few days ago. She was to discuss "the impact of internal and external factors on the economic challenges of post-colonial Africa" - quite an interesting discussion ensued about the social and political factors following the independence of African countries from European colonial powers. I am constantly amazed at the subject matter they cover at school these days. I am not sure how many of us realise how much more progressive the school curriculum has become.

A year or two ago she had to design a protest T-shirt for an art project - not so long ago being in possession of such an item of clothing would almost guarantee arrest! And it is not only during Art and History that they are being enlightened. They read literature by African writers, study Human Rights in Life Orientation (we are one of the few countries who do) and the eugenics of race in Biology. My son at junior school is similarly being encouraged to hear both sides of the story and to think for himself. He is certainly not learning the same version of the colonisation of the Cape or of the Zulu war, that we were forced to learn. He learns Xhosa as easily as he learns Afrikaans - no baggage attached.

Imagine the possibilities if we had all been given the opportunity to stretch our minds, to know and to understand. When I was in Sweden for the children's rights awards, Magnus Bergmar, the founder of the WCPRC, told me that he thought that "an ongoing humanisation of every new generation is necessary for any sustainable development." We need strategies for a better world, he went on to say. I know that we still have much work to do, but I think that we are moving in the right direction and that our children are going to be better humans who will make a better world.