I benefited from Apartheid

I am white. My friend @cobusvw was one of the first people to help me embrace being white with all the baggage that goes along with. I am also a racist. It is the bane of my life here in Africa. Growing up in the 80’s in South-Africa have shaped me in a certain way. My inherent racism is something I struggle with everyday. Don’t get me wrong, I try very hard not to be one. My other white buddy @soulgardeners introduced met to Jonathan Jansen’s work describing my racism as almost inherited through blood. Together we started to talk about our struggle with racism in the same way addicts would talk about their addiction.  I am a recovering umlungu, addicted to feeling superior. I am born into a history of racism. Years of prejudice have framed a narrative through which I perceive others that are different from me and my culture. 

I am proud to say that most of the time, with the help and patience of kind, supportive and forgiving black (and white) friends I have my addiction under control. 

So when my fellow bearded white brothers from Cape Town came up with a t-shirt saying “I benefited from apartheid” it immediately got my attention.

http://www.facebook.com/IBenefitedFromApartheid

My addiction kicked in and an array of mixed emotions troubled me since I placed my order for one medium size shirt. It turned out to be a very small medium. Those souties from the colony clearly did not have an Afrikaner stomach in mind when they designed the shirts, which is ironic in itself.

Yesterday I walked around the mother city wearing my confession on my heart. I felt like shit, unable to not be conscious of this complicated historical truth written in white on black broadly on my sagging man breasts. I benefited from a system that killed millions of people’s hopes and dreams. Did I mention shit? 

Two strange things accompanied this overall sense of guilt. One being the fact that people treated me like a hero for wearing it, as if the truth written on it isn’t obvious enough, especially when strolling about the old colony. I guess, though long over due, seeing a white guy confession his Apartheid guilt out in public is a welcome relieve to the more common pessimistic-get-out-while-can-white-rhetoric we hear most of the time.

The other funny thing was the fact that I kept on wondering whether whites are the only ones that benefited from apartheid. I can honestly say that I have never humoured this thought in the past. Surely I have heard the question a lot of time, although with a different answer than the one I am going to close my article off with. I have heard numerous times about the great educational system and the superior infrastructure of the old regime. My response always to those answers was that it still only benefited the whites. After wearing my confession out in the public I have come to a different conclusion about who else benefited from apartheid.

But first a list. I hate lists, never seem to finish them or remember where I left them. But still, a list is needed. A young black guy who works as a barista at the Cape Town bakery Jason’s asked me how I benefited. Sitting behind my Apple Mac trying to write this article, I  quickly mumbled a few privileges I enjoy as a white South-African. He looked at me and answered: “I feel you man.” Not really what I expected, but somehow I needed to hear it. 

Here follows a list of how I benefited from apartheid:

I can swim in the sea. 
White kids grew up in neighbourhoods with swimming pools. Our parents took us for swimming lessons. The swimming pools were kept clean by the parents of black children. Apart from young white parents’ dreams of giving the world the gift of Ryk Neethling, all these swimming in the pools during hot summer suburban weekends had one thing in common: Getting white children sea swim ready for December holidays in places like Hartenbos. The end result being that most of us can swim with confidence in the deep dark waters of the sea. Some of us can go in really deep, way behind the waves where the sharks hang out. We are not a afraid of the mighty ocean.  We came with it on boats and it seems we are dead set on swimming back to our native shores. Which brings me to my next point.

I have been on holiday to all the provinces of our country, as well as to some of our neighbouring countries. 
Some of my black Gauteng friends have never been to Cape Town. Which is troublesome when talking politics and trying to use Helen Zille as an example of a good leader.  Some of my friends have never been to the sea, or hiked in the mountains (for fun). A friend recently asked me about camping in the Drakensberg, he wanted to know what do you do when you camp out in the mountains, I answered sheepishly that we cook food in small pots on the open fires, shit in the bushes and bath in cold water. He looked at me as if I was explaining life in ekhasi to him. I had to respond by explaining that when you grow up with a whole range privileges and luxuries, the romance of suffering in the bush veld serves as way of feeling human again. Life in the suburbs tend to keep nature out, that is why when whites go on holiday they try to spend a lot of time in nature. This brings me to a deeper truth, white people have a deep sense of the beauty of South-Africa’s wildlife. Look at the literature and the songs of older Afrikaans traditions, a lot has to do with the veld, the mountains and the sea. I grew up with a religious understanding that God gave us this land because we are His chosen people. (really, I was taught this in Sunday School). Whites lived with a deep sense of ownership about these beautiful places, while black people could only look, but were not aloud to touch. What my teacher failed to mention during those hot summer Sunday mornings was that what once was theirs we took away with metal and gun powder, forced them to live in shanty towns, while we built European style mansions overlooking the best parts of the land.

I can play Scrabble and 30 Seconds very well. 
During these holidays, when unexpected rains forced everyone inside, white families played boardgames. Although these activities have nothing to do with the apartheid legacy, the sheer amount of quality family time in fact does. The old government together with the help of the church enforced the whole idea of a traditional family. The social systems were in place to help white families stay together, whereas with black families the legacy of migrant workers is well known. Black mothers spent more time helping white mothers raising children like myself, than they could raising their own children.

I don't have to use public transport. 
Not that there is anything wrong with public transport. Who am I kidding? Having your own car is awesome. I was able to drive a car at the age of nine. By the age of 30 I already owned 4 cars. I currently own an old Land Rover Defender, a Big Boy scooter and a mountain bike. My cars and bikes have helped me to explore and discover our country bests. I was able to take ownership of my daily routine. I can look down on people in taxis, I don't have to stand in queues waiting for a bus. I don't have to walk far to my destination. I am empowered. Pun intended. 

I did however started to use the Johannesburg taxi routes about a year ago. Not because of car problems, but again through my good friend @soulgardeners who feel it is important for white people to experience the way the rest of Mzanzi have to travel. When I then use the taxi I am treated as a pioneer of some sort. I can tweet about my experiences as a white guy on the taxi. I can drop it casually in pretentious liberal left conversations to great political effect. I am frequently asked by fellow whites “Aren't you scared?” My church friends labelled me as “missional”, while my black friends think “Shame, he must be one of those dumb whites who did not make enough money in the old South-Africa”.

              

I never had had to use an open air latrine, except when on holiday in some of our provinces. Did I say shit?

I own property in the good part of town. 
When our parents’ parents planned the towns and cities we now live in, they made sure that white families get the best of what that town or city had to offer. We were spoiled with stunning play parks and schools with great facilities. We prayed in big and beautiful churches, recovered in hospital rooms with a view, parked our cars on tar roads and built our homes in neighbourhoods with sufficient water, sewage and electricity systems in place. The mortgage value of these properties were far more superior than the ones on the other side or the railway tracks, as were the salaries our parents earned. Which brings me to my next point.  

I earn R30 000 a month (before taxes).
I earn this salary apart from the fact that I am bad in maths, science and accounting. I did not study very hard during or after school. I only got one A in matric (Afrikaans). Even though I did not study that hard or did that well, my overall high school education was of such a good standard that it gave me a chance to apply for bursaries and other funding that helped me to study at the university of my choice. 

I should also point out that I am a Dutch Reformed minister with less than 10 years of work experience. I don’t have to elaborate on my church’s role in the history of our country. According to mywage.co.za my gross income is double the amount the average clergy in South-Africa earns. My salary puts me globally amongst the wealthiest in the world. Just this fact alone makes wearing the “I benefit from Apartheid” so much more important. I should actually wear it the next time I conduct a sermon. In my case it is more than just coming clean about my past, wearing this t-shirt and making this list is a deeply religious confession that I as a rich follower of Jesus have to do. I am seriously considering to stop praying certain parts of the “Our Father”, especially the part of “my daily bread”. I have plenty of bread, it is the forgiveness of sins and my involvement in evil that I am worried about. On the back of the shirt should be written: “...and I need forgiveness” 

My salary only supports myself. 
I feel I have to mention this as a separate benefit from yonder years. In my white context, my salary is mine and mine alone. My parents helped me until I landed my first paycheque, from there onwards I had to manage on my own. When my salary show in my account at the end of the month, there are no other family members, distant relatives, pregnant sisters or unemployed younger brothers whom I have to share my earnings with. I am thus free to spend my money as I please. This gives me an inside track in becoming even more wealthy. I have money to invest, to save and to pay off home loans. I don't have to buy stuff on credit, but when I do need credit the banks a very eager to lend me money. 

I don’t know poverty.  
I have never in my life went to bed hungry. My appetite for good food are met on a daily basis. I eat for the enjoyment of food and not so much because I will die if I don't eat. This is true for all my friends and family members. I have no family members that have died of HIV/AIDS. When someone in my family gets ill, we are guaranteed that good doctors and nurses will do their best to cure the illness. All my family members are doing the jobs they studied for or at least are passionate about. I have, except for the odd holiday in some of the provinces of our country, up until now never experienced problems with dirty drinking water. Once and again we have to light a candle due to load shedding, but all in all my life is one filled with comfort and safety. In fact, all my life getting water or cooking food was just a turn of the wrist and a push of a button away. As I mentioned earlier, we only lived in the good parts of town.

Life has given me a lot of chances to make a success of myself. 
At 31 I have a deep sense up luck and grace about my life. Key moments in my life could have gone either way. That I did not end up living on the streets has a lot to do with my parents, friends, school, church and a little of my own doing. I have a great job, married to a stunning person, live in a big house, drive my own car and eat good, healthy food everyday. My opinions matter to a bigger audience. I have a lot freedom to come and go as I please. It is my choices that will determine the biggest part of how my future will pan out. Now to attribute this life only to being white or due to the legacy of Apartheid would be narrow minded and foolish. But if I go by the overwhelming gap between rich and poor in our country and the fact that I belong to the dominant group falling in the rich category, I cannot help but to keep Apartheid’s beneficiary factor in my life in mind every time I swipe my platinum ABSA credit card. I grew up with network of support and system of rewards based on the colour of my skin. Although I was a young child in the late stages of the apartheid era, I am still picking the spoils of generations of social and economic systems intentionally benefiting those with European decent. 

I have an inherent self belief. 
This is the biggest benefit I enjoy from years of propaganda about white being better than black. I know it is not true, but as I wrote at the start of the article this view about myself is in my blood. When I walk into a room I don’t doubt myself. When I think of my future I look at it with a sense of joyful anticipation. I live with a overall feeling of competence and intelligence (even though my Maths teacher will disagree). I feel I have something valuable to offer to others. This is not the case for millions of unemployed and unskilled young people of the same age as me. Biko wrote extensively about the inferiority that black people struggle with, especially when engaging with Western white world values and social systems. Thanx to P.W. Botha and company, I don’t know how this feel.

This list, although not nearly the entire story of my life of comfort have compelled me the last year or so to be intentionally involved in actions and programmes that not only help me recover from the evil I have done onto others through my shared history of violence and racism, but to actively help restore the imbalance there is in our society between black and white. The biggest part of my free time is spent in the inner city of Johannesburg creating new and better learning spaces for young black school going learners. It is there where I learn about what being African is all about. I am proud to say, that even though I struggle with inherited racism and am a beneficiary of apartheid, I am also an African. In my family I am the twelfth generation born on this continent. When the shit hits the fan I too have nowhere else to go. 

Back to being a racist. These closing paragraphs are probably the old foe in me rebelling against the shame of wearing this shirt. Feel free to deal me the race card if you like. As I mentioned earlier, while wearing it I kept wondering who else, apart from whites benefited from apartheid. I really chew on this question, trying hard to not go the route of those reminiscing about the past as if the old NP knew how to run a country that benefited everyone.

I’ve been reading Adriaan Basson’s book on Zuma. The word “cadre” and “struggle hero” feature frequently, especially when some political reason was given why so and so could not be charged, arrested and put on trial. The list of criminal activities and incompetent leadership decisions hanging over our current leaders are endless. When the public starts to ask tough questions about these people we are met with a “hands off our leaders” answer. The reason being they fought hard for our freedom, they are our heroes, they are the untouchable ones. 

Sounds familiar? A bit like South-Africa in the post war era when the new National Party started to rebuild a nation living in the shame after the Boer War and the following depression years. We gave people like Malan and Verwoerd the same untouchable status. They were our heroes against our struggle under British domination. Those men with their black hats benefited from a nations shame due to a century of British rule. When the volk dared to ask questions, the ruling party would respond by saying: “Hands off our leaders”. 

For as long there are open, untreated wounds about the sad history of white oppression, people will look at struggle heroes like Zuma, Shaik and Motshekga with a sense of awe and wonder. We will make them above the law of the land. As leaders they will not be judge for their corrupt leadership in the new democratic era, but rather for their immortal legacy under the apartheid era. They will play the same role as the old white leaders at the start of the apartheid story. 

If leaders get away with serious government failures like textbooks not being delivered to schools on time, if the ruling party keeps up the liberation rhetoric of old, if political favours are given to modern day criminals in the name of our hard fought freedom, if the ANC  keeps on playing into our wounds in order to avoid true accountability, if this keeps up eventually whites won’t be the only one’s wearing t-shirts confession Apartheid guilt. 

We need healing for our wounds.