Becoming South African
I knew I was a South African almost as soon as I could talk but I never had any real love for South Africa. It was the country I lived in, but not my country. I had no love for the flag and ‘Die Stem’ did not make me feel like dying for my country.
I do not think I ever realized what it meant to be a South African, though, not until the post apartheid years. Not until the channels of communication with the outside world were opened and I started hearing more and more from other countries. Not until I heard what the outside world really thought about ‘us’.
Eventually I did realize that my country was ostracized by the rest of the world and eventually I understood why. But there was no defining moment, no sudden epiphany, no dawn of realization. It was a slow process that started after I moved to Port Elizabeth (PE).
PE was not as conservative as Upington; we were not forced to use different doors, toilets or park benches to the extent that people were up north. I remember going back to Upington for a funeral in my early teenage years. This was when apartheid was on its way out but before Madiba became president.
Things were changing slowly. I accompanied my uncle, also from PE, to the butchery and waited in the car while he went into the shop. There were two doors. A minute later he stormed out of the butchery, looking as if he was ready to commit murder. My uncle had apparently used the door for ‘Europeans Only’. The shop keeper had told him to go back out and enter through the non-European door! Separate doors to buy the same meat from the same shop. The stupidity of some of those apartheid rules still makes the mind boggle.
I remember that my family bought into the ‘Swart Gevaar’ (Black Danger) propaganda before the 1994 elections. Leading up to those historic elections my mother stocked up on canned food and we were told to stay close to home. I could not see how Nelson Mandela, a man who had been in prison for longer than I had been alive, could possibly come out of prison and rule South Africa, as he was sure to do. I was petrified of what would become of SA once ‘the blacks took over’. It was part of who we had become under apartheid. Part of what we had been taught: To fear black people. I realize that now. We clung to the past because we were made to fear what we did not know. 
The first time I felt patriotic was during the 1995 Rugby World Cup. I was in my first year at Technikon. It was the first time in my life that I interacted with people of all races. During the start of the World Cup I remember walking to take a taxi home one afternoon and a car drove past, hooting loudly, the new SA flag flying out of the window – South Africa had just won their first match. I never had any interest in Rugby before that, although I knew who Naas Botha was, but I started watching the games.
I sang along to the theme of the world cup, ‘The world in union’ and had arguments with other coloured people who supported the All Blacks. I wonder how many readers realize that the All Blacks have quite a following in the Port Elizabeth coloured community, even today.
By the end of the World Cup I was sold – Nelson Mandela was the best thing to ever happen to our country and there was hope for the future.
Things were changing for the better.
They had to – right?
Wow. That was a really informative article….I enjoyed reading that. Here in the states, it is our grandparents who remember what segregation was like and usually, we learn most of the details through history books. It’s interesting to hear a first person account of how silly those laws are. I can’t believe that your uncle was made to rewalk back into the store through a different door. That’s completely senseless. Also interesting that they discerned based on Europeans and non europeans. Here, it was pretty much light skinned and dark skinned. Logic would state that it’s pretty much the same but you do have light and dark latinos as well as Asians. And it’s also amazing that this was going on in your nation up until so recently. You seem to come from a pretty unique perspective as well. Don’t fit in with the Europeans, however, were afraid of the blacks taking over. Must have been strange living in a country that tried defining so clearly without leaving room for gray areas I really liked your personal account on this topic.
Quite an interesting perspective, yeah. Difficult to be on the outside looking in both ways. I don’t think East London was ever really as uptight as some other places. Some people certainly but not really the city itself.
Rob´s last blog ..The car is fixed. With pics!
Great piece Diva! I remember needing to use the public loo in Eastgate as a child and my mom pointing out which toilet I was and wasn’t allowed to use. I HAD to go into the “whites’” toilet. At the age of 6 it didn’t make any sense to me – I mean, a toilet is a toilet is a toilet, right? I remember being confused and I don’t remember ever getting an answer as to why the rule existed. It still shocks me. But worse, that there are still so many people, especially our parents age, who speak the same Apartheid language while claiming to be tolerant. Baby steps I guess – how cool to be able to read about different experiences on this forum!
It must have been all around me, I just never noticed it.
I did wonder why black and coloured kids had separate schools to us, but would have been more worried if they had no schools at all, this would have been unfair since I’d prefer not going to school as well
theFlipSide´s last blog ..ROMA
Thank you guys
I think that what will make this project especially interesting is the fact that we will be getting stories told from so many different perspectives. I hope I can keep on contributing!
Nicely written Diva. Very informative. So it was not just black and white, but black, coloured and white. Or just shades of gray I suppose. What a weird world we lived in, still do I guess. Like Wendy said; baby steps. Gotta learn to crawl before you can run.
Nice one Diva. well written!!! It’s interesting to me that Coloured people were also indoctrinated to fear ‘the blacks’, that is something I never knew and/or never thought about.
Angela: We were either European or None-European and being a None-European meant anyone who was not white. They tried to seperate us into white, black, coloured, indian and asian as far as I know.
Wendy: I know what you mean about the Apartheid language. I think we were all ‘taught’ to have prejudices and it will definitely take a long time to wipe those out completely.
Colleen: Hopefully I can bring some more interesting bits from the coloured perspective in stories to come.
Eloquent, sharp focus personal. I like this one. Got promise. 8 out of 10
@Sarah, I’m not sure if we are after a rating system (definitely not a competition), but I am glad you are reading
what do you think of the topic?
@Diva, It does seem like the coloured “race” has always been forgotten by the powers, being right there in the middle. I think your insights are going to be great!
that will be superb Diva
!! I look forward to hearing more from you
Sarah B – is this our very own expat writer?
Excellent piece. Thank you of sharing something so personal.
Becoming South African is a great work of personal run through memory lane as well as informative at that. thanks for a great story. love the toilet story, personally I did not really witness any huge earth shaking apartheid stories except for my uncle being searched for with a helicopter under Lucas Mangope’s dictatorships in the old Bophuthatswana…