Environmentalism and Development

As I sat among a crowd of Namibians listening to panel discussion on plant genetic resources, I began to re-consider the privilege of environmentalism.  I am proud to call myself and environmentalist, and having been born in Montana and raised in Colorado, I met many others who climb 14ers, backpack, and just generally love spending time in nature.  But environmentalism isn’t solely connected to the nature-loving hobbies, but rather is defined by a sustainable lifestyle.  For example, the ideal environmentalist might eat organic local food, install solar panels on his/her roof, utilize grey water to water their garden, have a low-water requiring yard, use reusable grocery bags, use public transportation when possible, drive a hybrid car, listen to NPR, and pay to be a member of the Sierra Club.  These are likely the actions most people correlate with environmentalism.  However, this version of environmentalism is extremely Western oriented, not to mention privileged.  How many people in the world, let alone the US, can afford a solar energy system?

Loving nature  from an early age

And again, I return to Namibia.  What does it mean to be an environmentalist in a developing country?  Development requires resources, and therefore is detrimental to the environment.  Sustainable development is not development that does not harm the environment, but rather development that harms the environment at a rate that ensures future use of the resource at the same rate.  Sustainable development, therefore, requires a country to slow down and think of the bigger picture.  Western countries call for sustainable development all the time.  But who are we to call for other countries to slow down when we never did.  In fact, the environment is only now in such a precarious position due to the careless actions of Western countries in the 1900s.  It seems pretty hypocritical of us to make others slow down to reduce the impact of a problem that we created.

Uranium mining contributes to about 7.5% of the Namibian GDP.  Further, mining provides over 14,000 jobs in the country, which is expected to grow significantly with the development of the world’s second largest uranium mine in the coming years (which will be Chinese owned… an entire potential blog post of its own).  Mining is nearly synonymous with development in Namibia.  To slow mining down to account for the environment means to slow down development.  Is it worth it?  White Southern Africans and foreigners that I’ve heard from on the topic (who aren’t funded by mining) have been adamantly against mining.  But black Namibians who are counting on development to raise their standard of living deserve at least as much of a say as the white German environmental scientists.

Langer Heinrich Uranium Mine

Environmentalism is a privilege.  One can only think of conserving their resources once they have an excess.  Is the person who pays big dollars to drive a hybrid car with a big “LIVING GREEN” bumper sticker on the back more of an environmentalist than the person who takes public transportation because they cannot afford a used car?  Is the person who buys organic food at the grocery store at twice the price more of an environmentalist than the indigenous person who harvests endemic fruits at an unsustainable rate to survive?  And who am I, fitting into the privileged category of environmentalists, one to tell the indigenous man to harvest more sustainably?

Topnaar family harvesting the !Nara melon

As I sat amongst a crowd of Namibians listening to a panel discussion about plant genetic resources, I felt ashamed to be an American, and ashamed to be a privileged environmentalist.  The panel debated the pros and cons of growing cash crops like wheat, corn, and rice in place of native crops like mahangu, a Namibian strain of pearl millet.  One of the proposed solutions was to begin advertising native crops to Western environmentalists and health nuts.  Mahangu is gluten free and full of protein, fiber, and various important vitamins, nutrients, and amino acids.  One only need look at quinoa, which is originally from several countries in South America, as an example of the effect this might have.  Quinoa was a cheap product for mostly poor South Americans to eat a healthy meal.  As soon as this crop took off in Western countries as a “health food”, the value of quinoa increased substantially, ultimately making it harder for people in South America to purchase.  These rural South Americans now must buy cheaper cash crops, which do not provide the same nutritional value, and are still more expensive than native crops used to be.

Panel discussion on plant genetic resources

In sum, the options for Namibian farmers (and farmers in developing countries worldwide) include:

1. Continue growing native crops and selling to a local market ultimately going broke.

2. Continue growing native crops and cater to the Western healthy organic market ultimately surviving, but no longer see locals eating the once staple foods.

3. Stop growing native crops, and instead plant cash crops like wheat, corn, and rice ultimately surviving, but allowing native crops to disappear entirely.

It comes down to an essential question: How can we provide incentives to farmers to grow native crops without catering to a Western market?  I honestly have no answer for that question, and have yet to hear a good one.

The solutions to these problems cannot come from the West.  So this begs the question: what can I do, as a privileged American environmentalist, to help solve these problems?  Here’s the best I could come up with:

1. Check, but do not feel guilty about, my privileged environmentalism, and understand the inability of most of the world to meet the standards of Western environmentalism.

2. Understand where the resources I use come from, and the consequences my use of them might have on the environment and other people, rather than simply feeling happy with the “GREEN” label on all my products.

3. Encourage and participate in capacity building in developing countries rather than [thinking I’m] solving the world’s problems with my own limited world view.

4. Be open-minded about different versions of environmentalism that do not fit within my Western cannon.

5. Be critical of those who are privileged enough to be environmentalists, but who still ignore the need for change.  These rich corporate CIS men (generalizing) need to change much more than the Topnaar man harvesting too many !nara melons each season.

I’m sure I missed about a million things, and I would love to hear some other people’s thoughts on this matter.  But for now, I am even more excited to ship out with the Peace Corps in a year to work in an environmental placement in a developing country.  I have so much to learn, and truly think this will be the perfect opportunity to widen my environmentalist perspective and branch out.  I also strongly believe that by living in other countries as an environmental worker, I can become a better environmentalist, and ultimately be a better instigator of change in the US and the West.

Xenophobia and Politicians

Sorry I haven’t posted in a while, but it feels like I posted last week when really it was about a month and a half ago!  It’s hard to believe it’s already May…  This place and these people really feel more like more and more every week.  Anyway, here’s a blog post on something I know very little about, and yet still seem to have a strong opinion on:

Perhaps you've heard about the recent violence in South Africa.  You may be shocked and appalled at the xenophobic attacks like I was at first, but everyone else here in Southern Africa is not surprised and disappointed.  Xenophobia is nothing new in SA, and these attacks are just the most recent in a long list of hate crimes against immigrants.  Seven years ago dozens of people died in attacks in Johannesburg that even spread to Cape Town.  In fact, just a few months ago in January, several immigrant-owned businesses were burned.

Supposedly the attacks began after Zulu King Goodwill Zwelithini called immigrants lice that must be removed, though he’s since called the violence that broke out “vile”.  The UN, on the other hand, states that the attacks were sparked by labor disputes between citizens and foreign workers.  The truth is that this sparking event matters about as much as the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand before WWI… so none.  When you have that much kindling below that much dry tinder, the thing is bound to catch fire, whether it be from a match, a spark, or even a lightning strike.  So let’s look at the set up towards these events rather than the final strike:

Now I've heard harsh words directed at immigrants everywhere, including the United States.  An annoyingly prevalent theory exists that immigrants are taking jobs from Americans.  My response is always to ask these people if they would like to work on a farm all-day-every-day for less than minimum wage.  No?  That’s what I thought.  The average income of a crop worker in the US is $10,000 to $12,499 a year, so good luck with that.  If farm labor seems too extreme for you I can take it down a notch: be my guest and work at McDonald’s for minimum wage (7.25 an hour).  I invite you to do an activity my mom gives her students at Colorado College and create a reasonable budget with that minimum wage.  Seriously, that’s $15,000 a year.  In no state is it possible for a minimum wage worker to afford a two-bedroom apartment at a Fair Market Rent working the standard 40 hours a week.  I’d also like to point out that while a McDonald’s worker makes $7.75 an hour on average, McDonald’s CEO James Skinner makes $9,247 an hour… I’m just saying!  Okay that little tangent aside, basically people say the same thing everywhere: “Those dang immigrants are taking all our jobs!”  Now in the US, unless stated by someone who truly wants to work for these inhumane wages, this statement is just blatantly incorrect.  In South Africa, this may not be the same situation.

The unemployment rate in SA is a staggering 25% compared to the US rate of 5.5%.  Even more shocking, jobless black South Africans account for half of the young population in SA, compared to 10% unemployment among black Americans.  This foundation is pretty flammable kindling if you ask me.

However, the anger inspired by these staggering statistics should not, in my opinion, be released on immigrants.  The nation has around 2 million documented and undocumented immigrants, comprising of about 4% of the total population.  In the US, immigrants make up 13% of the total population at 41.3 million.  Despite this, I believe the US and SA have something in common when it comes to immigration: I think South Africa is to many Africans what the United States is the rest of the world.  I think there is such thing as the South African dream which is very similar to the American dream: it is the land of opportunity, democracy, and wealth.

Meanwhile, the unemployment rate in Namibia is 28% while the immigration population is also larger than SA’s, making up 6.6% of the population due largely to the booming mining industry.  This begs the question, why aren't Namibians breaking out in regular violence towards immigrants and foreigners too?  All of the Namibians I know are shaking their heads in disappointment at South African xenophobia.  Namibians are proud of their peaceful country and booming economy with a 5.1% GDP growth rate in 2013.  Namibia and South Africa have a similar history of colonial rule and apartheid, so why is Namibia so peaceful?  On the other hand, I have heard countless negative, and even derogatory, comments towards “The Chinese” from many Namibians.  Everything from “they’re taking our jobs,” “they make crap products,” to even “they just smell,” has been stated in conversation.  Now I can’t speak about the role of Chinese immigrants in Namibia, but I can say that a lot of the comments I’ve heard sound pretty xenophobic.  I don’t think violence will break out in Namibia anytime soon, but I wonder how xenophobia took such a strong hold in Southern Africa and what can be done now to turn things around.

So if immigrants are the wrong target for violence in South Africa, who should South Africans be angry at for the huge unemployment rates?  Now I stated at the beginning of this post that this is a blog about a topic that I know very little about but still seem to have a strong opinion on, and I’m about to take that to the extreme, so prepare for some uninformed opinions.  I never cease to be amazed at how loyal Southern Africans are to their political parties.  Jacob Zuma, from the African National Congress won the last presidential election with 62.15% of the vote.  This is a huge win in comparison to Obama’s victory, for example, with 51.1% of the vote.  In Namibia, Hage Geingob from the SWAPO party won with 86.73% of the vote!  I watched a news story on NBC (Namibian Broadcasting Centre) the other day where they interviewed candidates for a leadership position in Swakopmund.  The reporter asked each candidate what they considered to be the big issue of the election.  The candidates gave various answers from jobs to land, until finally the man in the green, blue, and red (SWAPO) scarf approached the microphone and said something along the lines of “Just look at the SWAPO party agenda.”  My jaw dropped; can you imagine a US candidate saying something like that?!  Imagine Hilary Clinton answering a question in a debate about gay marriage with, “just go google democratic beliefs, it’s all there.”  Fact is, the SWAPO candidate will win regardless of what he says, so why put too much effort into it?  At the same time, I’ve heard some discussion on whether Southern African countries should move away from the liberation parties towards other options.  While in Namibia, this does not seem to be happening according to the election numbers, in SA the ANC lost 15 seats in the National Assembly while the DA won 22 and the new Economic Freedom Fighters won 25.  The new EFF party likely split the vote and helped take some of the seats from the ANC, but I think more political debates than ever are occurring all over Southern Africa; liberation parties are ceasing to be a foregone conclusion.  Though I still don’t know enough about Namibian or South African politics to know what each parties believe, and therefore whom I might support, it seems that with such a high unemployment rate, perhaps South Africans and Namibians should be angry at their politicians instead of each other, foreign or not.  I will never cease to be shocked when I pass Topnaar homes hanging the SWAPO flag high and proud.  The Topnaar are some of the most marginalized people in Namibia; why on earth would someone totally ignored by the government still support it?  My guess is a lack of education.  When few Namibians, or South Africans, know about the political ideology behind their parties, and what these ideologies might look like if put into reality, of course they vote for the party that liberated them.  Can’t go wrong there… or could you?  I wonder what Mandela thought of the ANC and the political state of South Africa at the end of his life.

So at the end of this blog post, maybe I’ll go back to the spark: King Goodwill Zwelithini’s cruel comments about immigrants.  Despite the fact that these attacks would have broken out eventually even without the hateful comments from the Zulu King, he is an excellent example of a politician at which South Africans should direct their anger.  Now Goodwill Zwelithini was not elected, but instead inherited his rule from his father, and only serves as a glorified figurehead with no tangible decision-making powers.  However, he rules over the Zulus: the largest ethnic group in SA with 10-11 million people.  Every politician can go on condemning the attacks, but not one will stand up and condemn Zwelithini.  When millions of Zulus respect his opinions, speaking against the King would amount to political suicide.  Perhaps it will take a brave liberation politician standing up against not only the attacks, but also the figure-head who acts as the spark to begin moving forward from xenophobia.

Ants and Diabetes

When I was a kid I wanted to be a dolphin trainer when I grew up.  I’m pretty sure I went to Sea World and immediately saw my entire future laid out in front of me.  I grew out of this dream, which is probably good in light of all the criticism surrounding institutions with dolphin shows.  Throughout middle school, I shifted my dreams from the ocean to set my sights on space.  I went to space camp not once, but twice... I know I’m a nerd, but a proud nerd.  I remember eagerly writing my space camp application to be the commander in our mission, and eventually led my crew to win the Best Mission out of all the groups at camp that week.  I even convinced my science teacher to create a special class on space just for me.  In high school I began volunteering at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science in the space exhibit as a Galaxy Guide.  Though I never lost my love for space, I eventually realized my fear of flying in commercial aircrafts would probably transfer to flying in a space shuttle.  I thought about other space-related jobs, like CAPCOM and engineer but wasn’t as dazzled by the options as I had been with the idea of Commander Patty Murphy-Geiss.  I later learned that the commanders of spacecrafts come from the air force which is something that was not, and never will be, on my agenda.

Me at space camp the first time

Ready to take my role as commander!

As I became more realistic about my dreams, I fell in love with biology.  At the same time, while thinking existentially in a philosophy class, I began to believe (being an inherent pessimist) that people are inherently selfish.  I argued that every action, beyond sacrificial suicide, can be traced back to selfish interests.  The key to being a good person is therefore not to be unselfish, but instead to be selfish in ways that benefit, rather than hurt, others.  I won’t go to deep into my own personal philosophy, but if you’re interested in learning more, or more likely changing my mind, feel free to send me a message.  Any way, I was also overwhelmed with the fact that I am a single person out of many with a very short time on this Earth.  Therefore, my own selfish desire is to leave this earth, not as a shuttle commander, but having made some kind of memorable impact.  Basically I want to matter.  So how can I manipulate these selfish interests to benefit others?  Well I started thinking about possible life-paths that would give me the ability to make a large difference, and ultimately would make my existence significant.  With my newfound love of biology, I decided upon the path of a doctor.  On top of this, one of my closest friends had been diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes when we were young kids.  I distinctly remembered our families’ fear when Chris was rushed to the hospital.  I also, for some strange reason, remember visiting Chris in the hospital and receiving a giant stuffed ladybug as a prize.  Since that day, I have watched Chris prick his finger, skip dessert, and worst of all, give himself shots on a daily basis (my other irrational fear).  I remember telling my mom on that fateful day that I would cure diabetes.  Despite my brief obsession with dolphins and my love for space, deep down I always wanted to save other kids from the endless needles and families from the fear I saw on my parents’ faces.

Me with Chris and family back in the day

Me with Chris and family recently

With my new dream in mind, I spent my high school career preparing for medical school.  I was ahead of all my peers in math and science, even going so far as to take half of the International Baccalaureate physics track in addition to the biology track.  I took summer science camps to learn even more about human biology, allowing me to dissect different things like lungs, an eyeball, and even a fetal pig.  When I finally stepped into my first official biology course my junior year, I was ready to memorize everything that came at me.  Much to my dismay, my high school biology teacher proceeded to make the subject my least favorite class within a few short months.  All that preparation, excitement, and passion thrown away by one person... it still makes me sad.  As suddenly as that, my dreams of being a doctor were forgotten and I became unsure of my future once again.

Writing my extended essay on art history my senior year

Don’t fear though, little high school Patty was not completely lost yet.  Just as one teacher ruined biology, and for a while science in general, for me, another teacher opened my mind in a completely new way: Mr. Droege.  I hope he reads this blog, because he is one of the two teachers that truly inspired me.  Maybe you can already guess what he taught based on earlier comments.  In fact, assuming he read this blog, he probably laughed at my thoughts on selfishness because I made this statement for the first time while sitting in his philosophy class five years ago.  His methods for teaching were completely refreshing to someone who was frustrated with tedious lectures on photosynthesis.  I finally left high school with a love for philosophy, and more importantly, a new perspective on how to think critically about the world around me.

Graduating high school with a new perspective

I was sure, as I signed up for my first classes at Grinnell College, that I would double major in philosophy and art history.  I figured philosophy could lead me anywhere: law, politics, academia, or elsewhere.  However, I soon found that not all philosophy teachers/professors are as creative and fun as Mr. Droege.  Shockingly enough (at least to me at the time), I was instead drawn to history.  In high school I enjoyed history and always did well, though I never considered it particularly interesting.  Now that I have developed a love for history, I distinctly remember one telling moment at the end of my high school career:  I sat on the floor of my bedroom with my best friend Kathleen Doll.  We had papers from two years of history classes spread around us as we frantically tried to memorize every name and date for our upcoming IB history test.  Instead of memorizing important events, we began to plan our imminent world take-over based on the mistakes and successes of past historical figures.  We would plant someone as an ally in Russia to prevent the mistakes of Napoleon.  We would begin in Paris, because "as goes Paris goes the world."  We would attack in a moment of desperation as did Hitler.  Remembering this moment now, I am not so shocked that I grew to love history.  As I sat in my introduction to history class and wrote my final paper on the music of Woodstock, I realized that history was as multi-disciplinary as philosophy.  History is absolutely not dry and boring; it is more fascinating than the best novels, more exciting than the most action-packed movies, and more heart-wrenching than any ballad.  In college, I found that I could study any moment in history from any point of view: as an artist, as a feminist, even as a Marxist.  I took Winston Churchill’s quote as my new motto: “the more distant we look into the past, the farther we can see into the future.”  I began to believe the people that made the most impact are politicians and set out on a new dream once again, one that I still have today.

Falling more in love with history in Paris

Studying history in the Czech Republic

I guess my point here is that I have always thought the answer in life was to dream big, and when those dreams failed, to dream bigger.  I went from dolphin trainer, to astronaut, to doctor, to politician.  I still dream big, because what is the point of living a life that matters to no one but yourself and maybe a few key individuals around you.  My biggest fear, apart from airplanes and needles of course, is to lose the ability to dream big and to thereby stop mattering altogether.  I want to live big, not in the sense of making millions or living in a mansion, but by making a positive change in the world that helps as many people as possible.  But maybe I was looking in the wrong place; maybe the biggest dreams don’t come from people like astronauts, diplomats, or surgeons but from people, and things, much smaller.

The other week we had a visiting researcher give a lecture at Gobabeb.  The topic was ant navigation, and most of the staff had laughed and blown the lecture off thinking it was so silly.  I, on the other hand, was exited.  How many times have I seen ants wandering around aimlessly in the desert only to wonder how the heck they got there and how the heck they would get home?  I’d flicked an ant off my pant leg many times only to wonder if the poor ant would forever be lost after being thrown so far off course.  You see, ants in the desert cannot utilize pheromones to navigate like most ants elsewhere; the heat and wind prevent odor trails from lasting long enough.  Instead, these desert ants are much more sophisticated: they have odometers and compasses built into their tiny little brains.  Yep that’s right, an odometer and a compass in that itty bitty noggin.  First let me summarize what these ants do when they get lost: they circle.  An ant will walk to where they think their burrow is, and then upon not finding it, begin to spiral out making bigger and bigger circles until they find a recognizable location.  Even this simple action seems pretty sophisticated for a tiny little ant… but just wait.

Camponotus detritus

Let’s talk about the odometer.  The ants have two different odometers, one of which they rely on more: a pedometer, or a step counter.  Now here is where this gets really fun.  This researcher and his team changed the length of ant legs to determine if they utilized a pedometer method.  They had the ants walk to predetermined location from their burrow using a trough and then cut the legs of some ants, left some ants alone, and added small stilts to legs of the rest.  When the ants tried to walk back to their home, the stumpy ants began circling before they reached the burrow, the regular ants made it back, and the stilties overshot before beginning to circle.  When the ants were let out a second time, this time with their legs altered from the beginning, they walked out and back successfully regardless of the length of their legs.  Amazing!  But wait, it gets better.  This was all done on flat ground, but what happens when we add hills?  The researchers let the ants out on a track with lots of bumps.  When the ants reached the end to turn around, the research team replaced the hills with flat ground.  Now, one might hypothesize that the ants would walk back the same number of steps as before, and therefore overshoot the burrow completely.  However, the ants were able to somehow figure out the inclination, and made it back to their burrow easily!

Now this is when I really scooted to the edge of my seat.  You see, my parents can tell you how terrible my sense of direction is.  One time, a friend’s parent was driving me home and asked me which way to turn.  Despite being in my neighborhood already, I had no clue where to go and had to call my dad.  I’m the WORST at directions.  So I wondered how these little desert ants could possibly have such a great sense of direction with their tiny little brains while I couldn’t get home from around the corner.

Back to the ants:  not only do the ants count their steps, they also have a very complicated compass system that they inherited from their flying ancestors.  The compass is called a polarimeter, and is based on the direction of polarized light.  As the sun moves across the sky, light polarizes in different directions.  However, throughout the day, there is a constant line of symmetry across the sky bisecting the two identical sides of polarized light.  If this sounds complicated, that would be because it is.

To make things even more complicated, these ants also utilize landmarks to navigate.  The ants seem to take a memorized image of the landscape and constantly compare their surroundings to the image to determine where they are.  For example, a lost ant might look at the location of three landmarks, and the distance between each one in relation to the others, to determine how close they are to home.  At this point I was extremely impressed; I have yet to master the art of using landmarks to find my way home… pathetic I know.

After this fascinating lecture from a passionate researcher, I began to rethink my take on dreaming big.  This man had dedicated his life to ants… not to finding the cure to diabetes, or to space travel, or even to saving lives, but to ants of all things.  And yet, I was totally fascinated.  Can his work make a bigger difference in the world?  Who knows?  Maybe navigation systems in lost airplanes can utilize polarized light to find their way home.  Not all science has to set out with a big dream, like curing diabetes, to be very cool.  Science like the work done by the visiting ant researcher is called fundamental science and has fallen by the wayside in recent years as funders throw money at big dreams.  Fundamental science aims to satisfy curiosity, advance knowledge, and achieve understanding.  This type of science stands in stark contrast to applied science that aims to solve specific problems.  Currently, fundamental science receives a mere 15.44% of all funding, falling behind the 27.03% going towards applied science and the massive 49.81% supporting development (Fundamental Ecology is Fundamental, Courchamp et. al.).  With so many problems in the world in need of solutions, one can easily forget that many problems have been solved by simply satisfying curiosity.  For example, anticancer mechanisms stemmed from basic research on the naked mole rat.  In fact, around 60% of all antitumor and antimicrobial drugs are of natural origin, meaning that most cures will likely come from fundamental research on the natural world rather than looking for a specific solution.  Who knows, maybe the big-time researchers searching for the cure to diabetes should stop dreaming big and start wondering how the ant they just flicked of their pant leg will get home.

I’m not sure how this fits into my plans, after all I still dream of becoming an international lawyer in the UN fighting for human rights and/or the environment.  I don’t think at this point I want to change that dream to chase after ants.  Regardless, I think it is important to recognize the significance of fundamental thought and simplicity when dreaming big.  Hopefully when I’m a big shot lawyer sitting in on war criminal trials, I will remember to look toward the ants to lead the way.  After all, they are the masters of navigation.

Here are some other pretty cool small things around Gobabeb:

Pachydactylus rangei

???

Parabiuthus transvaalicus

Uroplectes otjimbinguensis

Ptenopus garrulus

Acanthoplus discoidalis

Onymacris rugatipennis albotessallata

Zophosis Fairmairei

Gerbillurus paeba

Leucorchestris arenicola

Reconciliation and Over-Simplification

WARNING – this post is a little bit everywhere.  I mean that literally: Kenya, Germany, England, the USA, India, and South Africa not to mention all the time periods… But fear not, I tried to make it fun.

I should have written this blog right after leaving SA, but I still needed to write my December blog so I put it off.  To be honest I also put it off because I wanted more time to think about my experiences and how to translate all of my thoughts and feelings into a coherent blog post.  My experience in Cape Town was amazing overall;  the city truly has everything: beautiful mountains, sandy beaches, diverse cuisines, beautiful art, and my personal favorite, a fascinating history.

Sandy beaches

Table Mountain

One of my favorite courses at Grinnell College was my history class on Southern Africa.  The class was especially memorable due to our unique final project.  Rather than write a paper or give a presentation, each student was given a different person/political party/interest group to represent as our class worked together, and often against one another, to create a new constitution for post-apartheid South Africa.  I was given the Umkhonto we Sizwe, abbreviated as MK, which is Zulu for “spear of the nation”.  The MK was a military branch of the African National Congress, or the ANC, and was co-founded by Nelson Mandela.  The MK was founded in response to the Sharpeville massacre in the belief that the ANC could no longer effectively fight apartheid with nonviolent protest.  The MK was soon classified as a terrorist organization by the South African government and the United States.  Nelson Mandela justified the creation of the MK in his I am Prepared to Die speech saying, “I, and some colleagues, came to the conclusion that as violence in this country was inevitable, it would be unrealistic and wrong for African leaders to continue preaching peace and non-violence at a time when the government met our peaceful demands with force.”  Sorry, I just realized I went all history-major on you and haven’t gotten to the point at all.  The point is, through this activity, I became fascinated with the process of peace building. I also learned that the history of apartheid is not as black and white as it might seem (forgive the unintended tasteless pun).  I found that our class discussions were not one side vs the other, but that there were many disagreements within each group.  In fact, as the MK, I was given the power to utilize force against a group, and was surprised that in the end I used this power only once, against another black South African interest group.

Not only was the class assignment so unique, but the actual peace building process at work was also distinct from any method I had learned about previously.  Let’s backtrack some.  The term apartheid originates from the Afrikaans word “apart” meaning apart and “heid” meaning hood.  A literal translation of apartheid is therefore simply apart-hood, or separation.  With this definition I could make a long list of historical moments of ‘apartheid’.  To name a few obvious ones: The USA from 1877-1954, almost the entirety of Europe from 1939-1945, India and Pakistan from 1947 on, Palestine from 1947 to today, Rwanda in 1994 for approximately 100 terrifying days, the USA from 1941 to 1946, and Kenya from 1952-1960 to name a few.  Really I could go on forever.  In fact, looking back at these examples, I should expand the dates massively considering the definition of apartheid simply as separation.  For instance, I can’t really limit ‘apart-hood’ in the USA to the dates of the Jim Crow laws, and instead should start with recognition of slavery in the Declaration of Independence in 1776.  If we look at the United States alone, I would argue that we have been in a consistent state of ‘apart-hood’ from our creation until 1954.  And can we really stop there?

Again I’m straying from the point… The point is, that apartheid in SA was, in my opinion, unique from all these other moments of separation in our history.  Not because of the brutal pass-laws, or the over-crowded townships, or even because of the obvious intentional ignorance from the rest of the world; unfortunately violence, the trashing of basic human rights, and sheer idiocy can be traced from the beginning of civilization to today.  Instead, I see South Africa’s history as unique because of how apartheid ended.  You see, most students learn history by jumping from Western war to Western war: war of independence, civil war, French revolution, WWI, WWII, Cold War, etc.  But I think a more interesting timeline of history is what happens in between.  Wars are the most boring historical moments.  I mean come on, how many times do you want to read about one white guy killing another white guy on some random battlefield.  BORING.  Instead, let’s talk about what events led to the meeting of these unfortunate white dudes, and the consequences of their so-called ‘heroism’ (I won't even go into the need to focus on a broader group than 'white dudes', cause that is not what my blog is about today).  This is what makes South African Apartheid unique: the aftermath.

I realize this blog post is already getting long and I still haven’t really gotten to my experiences in Cape Town, but I’m going to allow myself to history-major all over the place one more time.  Let’s look at some important past attempts at post-war peace building:

Going back to WWI, the allies did a pretty bad job dealing with the consequences of a World War.  The response was to punish the perpetrators and teach Germany a lesson.  One of the many provisions, called the War Guilt clause, of the Treaty of Versailles required “Germany [to] accept the responsibility of Germany and her allies for causing all the loss and damage.”  Germany was forced to disarm, make huge territorial concessions, and pay what amounted to $31.4 billion in reparations.  Germany was pretty much grounded, put in time-out, and spanked all at once.  No one will ever misbehave again, well-done allies… Right?  If you don't know where this is going, you've been living in a box.  Anyway, this left Germany in a pretty bad spot to say the least.  By November 1923, the American dollar was worth 4,210,500,000,000 German marks.  No I didn’t accidentally add an extra zero or six.  Germans had to spend their money immediately, before inflation caused their pay to be worthless once again.  People were literally running from their workplace to the bakery with their pay in wheelbarrows.  Supposedly a compulsion called zero stroke broke out where people had the desire to write endless rows of zeros… okay that might not be true, but come on, the point is post-WWI Germany was the pits.  And guess what happens when people become desperate?  They elect Hitler.  Maybe that was a dramatic generalization, not all desperate people turn to Hitler, I for example turned to ice cream and Netflix the last time I was desperate.  All joking aside, the Treaty of Versailles left Germany in a place where the only viable answer seemed to be the charismatic and charming Adolf Hitler.  Soon enough the Czech Republic, and every other European country, found that Germany was no longer disarmed, was taking back conceded territories with their eyes on new land, and had essentially left time-out without permission.  England, the USA, and France all did a nice big face-palm and fought their way out of that blunder (not to mention the additional slipup called appeasement) with a little (a lot) of help from good ol’ Stalin (to their great embarrassment).  The allies thought they had learned from their mistakes and, during the Yalta Conference, made sure to stick around for longer to supervise post-WWII Germany.  They brilliantly separated Germany into three parts, leading, of course, to the Berlin Wall… okay arguably better than Hitler, but still not great.  However, in the rush to make everyone happy, the USA and England pissed off some other people.  When faced with a very displeased (to say the least) Jewish population who didn’t have homes or jobs to return to (assuming they wanted to return at all), the two post-war super-powers thought it would be a good idea to give them somewhere new to live.  Who cares if there are people living there already, they're brownish and call God Allah.  And 6,000,000 of the Jews were brutally murdered by the Nazis, not to mention the countless pogroms.  It’s the least they could do right?  Bam… Israel.  Good one guys, really you nailed it.  I did say that idiocy is a trait that can be found in almost every historical moment, and this was no exception.

Holocaust Memorial in Berlin

Berlin Wall

Now that I’ve given you some background, let’s return to South Africa in 1990.  At this point Nelson Mandela had sat in his cell on Robben Island for 18 years, and been moved to serve another nine elsewhere.  During his long time behind bars, he successfully cultivated a garden… oh and he hid his completed manuscript Long Walk to Freedom in the garden.  Almost forgot about that small detail.  With all the time alone with his thoughts, I would like to believe he pondered the mistakes of past peace-builders.  He was finally released in February, a man ready to make peace like no one ever had before.  Gandhi particularly inspired Mandela, which may be obvious due to their many similarities: imprisoned for many years by British colonial rule using extreme separation to subdue the uncivilized brown (I hope you know I'm using this politically incorrect term to make a point) people.  Anyway, I think Nelson took one of Mahatma’s famous quotes to heart:  “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”  Nelson knew that taking revenge on the suppressors would only leave SA in a worse position than they began.  With this important lesson in mind, Mandela led SA to a completely new peace building process: reconciliation.  Nelson walked out of prison, proceeded to tour the world to pull one country after another out of their deliberate ignorance (despite being considered a communist terrorist by Reagan and Thatcher), and finally proceeded to sit down with the Nationalist President F.W. de Klerk to abolish apartheid and establish multi-racial elections only to become SA’s first black president.  As if that wasn’t enough, he invited other political parties to join the cabinet, and promulgated a brand new constitution.  The cherry on top was the Truth and Reconciliation Commission created to investigate past human rights abuses.

Nelson Mandela's cell on Robben Island

The ship that took prisoners to Robben Island, often through very rough waters

On the boat to Robben Island

I was never all that interested in Catholicism, but that guy is a saint.  In fact, I’m going to sing his praises for another few sentences.  While in prison, as a firm believer that education is the best weapon in anyone’s arsenal, he formed the University of Robben Island where prisoners lectured on their areas of expertise.  Mandela was technically Christian, but, being the open-minded man he was, also studied Islam.  He studied Afrikaans, despite it being the language of the oppressors, hoping build a mutual respect with the warders and convert them to his cause.  He built relationships with every possible group, from the white warders, to his ANC visitors, to the young radical Black Consciousness Movement prisoners despite conflicting beliefs.  As president he combatted poverty, encouraged land reform, and expanded healthcare,  only to decline to run for a second term.  Instead, he focused on charitable work to combat poverty and HIV/AIDS through his Nelson Mandela Foundation.  I don’t think there has ever been a better man.  In Southern Africa, many people still refer to Mandela as Madiba, meaning father, and I absolutely love it.

The Madiba is everywhere

Okay back to the TRC.  The Truth and Reconciliation Commission was a court-like restorative justice body.  The goal of the TRC was to bear witness to, record, and in some cases grant amnesty to the perpetrators of human rights violations.  The TRC had three committees: one to investigate human rights abuses, one to restore victims’ dignity and assist with rehabilitation, and one to consider applications for amnesty.  The hearings were public, allowing the entire population to take part in the trials simply by watching.  The TRC granted amnesty to those whose crimes were politically motivated, proportionate, and only when there was full disclosure by the person seeking amnesty.  In addition, no side was exempt from appearing before the commission, and the commission heard reports from everyone from the apartheid state to the liberation forces, including the ANC.

Though many maybe correctly believe that justice is a prerequisite to reconciliation rather than an alternative to it, I believe the TRC was, at least, a promising method for peace building.  The TRC was far from flawless, and it is impossible for everyone to be happy after something as horrendous as apartheid.  Perhaps truth and reconciliation are only the first step in a longer process of justice, and we have yet to figure out the next steps.  However, in comparison to past attempts to overcome extreme violence, I think the TRC was much more successful than the Treaty of Versailles or the Potsdam conference.  I know I’m give extreme examples, but WWI, WWII, and apartheid were all extreme instances of violence.  Regardless of varying perceptions of the TRC, it was, and still is, a fascinating experiment.  And now, without further ado, I’ll finally get to my experiences in Cape Town:

Whoops that's not Cape Town...

JK I’m going to talk about Germany some more.  I distinctly remember my time in Germany as being quiet and muffled.  There is a strong sense of shame in Berlin, and no one mentions Hitler or the Nazis.  I encourage you to check out a full explanation of my experiences in Berlin in one of my old, and I think best, blog posts, called The Fatherland. ­­­­ ­My experience in Cape Town stands in stark contrast to my time in Berlin.  The city was bright and cheerful, boasting culture around every street corner.  During my visit to Robben Island, I caught up to my guide to privately ask him why he was imprisoned on the island during apartheid.  He told me that he led riots at his school during the Soweto uprisings.  Unlike in Germany, anyone above the age of 25 can remember their own experience of apartheid.  In Germany, the wounds of WWI and II, not to mention the gash of the Cold War, have been wrapped and padded in yellowing gauze while everyone walks around careful not to upset old injuries.  In Cape Town, the big bright band-aid known as the TRC is new, covered in cartoon characters, and probably waterproof.  However, historians, including myself, don’t have the same perspective on apartheid that we have on WWI and II.  We can easily review the mistakes of the Treaty of Versailles now that the consequences are laid out in a full timeline leading to WWII.  I can only guess what the consequences of reconciliation in SA will be, but I am hopeful to say the least.  Based on my experiences in Cape Town, it seems this injury won’t be covered with the goal of forgetting, but instead has the chance to heal into scar standing as a proud symbol for the power of reconciliation and forgiveness.

Colorful Cape Town culture 

Despite my optimism and deep love for all things Mandela, including the TRC, I realize my view is extremely flawed.  While I saw Cape Town as bright and bustling, I cannot ignore the fact that my view was extremely limited.  For example, every tour company boasts guided walks through townships during the day.  Each of these advertisements is paired with a bold warning in red not to walk through these areas alone or at night.  The thought of parading through a low-income black neighborhood as a privileged white tourist, doubtlessly with other privileged white tourists with their expensive cameras hanging over their brand new t-shirts sporting various random Mandela quotes, sounds like the a tasteless SNL sketch, or maybe an edgy new comic by Charlie Hebdo.  For this reason, I never visited a township during my stay in Cape Town.  I got the chance to explore other parts of the city on foot, though this was limited to specificly white-tourist-approved zones.  I'm not sure how a privileged white female tourist could possibly see the darker side of Cape Town without putting themselves in danger of at least an almost assured mugging.  I did see the dark side once when driving out to Cape Point on my first day only to pass two men beating another man to a pulp, though this could have happened in any city I suppose and therefore did not necessarily have any connection to the TRC or apartheid leftovers.  Despite the proud culture and history on display in Cape Town, violence and remaining segregation is equally visible if you only sneak past the shiny band-aid called TRC.  All in all, as a future international lawyer and peace-builder, I am sitting on the edge of my seat watching the aftermath of apartheid and the TRC play out.  Regardless of the results, the world is in desperate need of new and effective methods to move forward from violence.  One only need look towards the Middle East to understand my hope that truth and reconciliation can overcome hate and violence.

In our rental car shortly before we saw a guy getting beat up

View of Cape of Good Hope from Cape Point

After this novel of a blog post, I will save you from a summary of my activities in Cape Town, and simply refer you to my Facebook photo album to get an idea of where I was and to see the stunning city of Cape Town.  I also encourage everyone ever to read Mandela’s Long Walk to Freedom, as it is one of the most inspiring books I’ve ever read.  Actually, if you want any recommendations of books about any of the time periods I talked about, just ask.  Start with Kaffir Boy, it’s one of the best books about apartheid in SA.  I'm also interested to hear other opinions of the TRC, and hopeful that I will get to study it in more depth in the coming years.  To wrap up, I’ll go back to the great Mandela to end this seemingly endless post, despite the fact that this quote is probably hiding beneath an expensive camera hanging around some privileged white tourist’s neck on a township tour right now:

“No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion.  People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.”

 - Madiba

Overlook beautiful Cape Town from the top of Table Mountain