What's the word!? From Johannesbuuuuurg?

"Oooo sista/woman have ya heaaarrrrd, from Johanessbuuurg??"- Gil Scott-Heron 1976


     Yes. There's so much life in the city of Jo'Burg. Johannesburg is a place where you can experience some of the best wine in the world, scrumptious ostrich steaks, (you should try them medium-rare) and tantalizing garlic mussels. Oh, I'd absolutely LOVE to dedicate this post to the foodie scene in Jo'Burg. But it's the brutality and heartlessness of apartheid that remained on the edges of my mind as I enjoyed the welcoming 14ZAR:1USD exchange rate.

Let this quote from an Afrikaaner congress person sink in...

     I can't say I've seen a more heartwrenching sight than the list of legislation documented on the wall of the Apartheid Museum that was used by the racist Afrikaaner regime during the 1900s.  Under the guise of a "civilized" government, this bloodthirsty establishment used bullets and laws to destroy the minds and self-esteem of black children.  Black men and women were made everyday to remember they were no better than animals in the eyes of the whites who immigrated to their homeland.
     To be an African accused of political activism was an automatic death sentence.  Steven Biko was beaten and killed while in police custody for his work, in a death to Baltimore's Freddie Gray. No police were ever charged for his death, which autopsies confirmed to be a result of brain injury from blunt force trauma.  Legislation allowed for an activist to be jailed for up to 90 days without a trial. This period often extended to 360-540 days and prisoners were often held in solitary confinement with little more than a cloth (if that) to cover their genitals.  Police constantly reminded them..."We could kill you right now and say it was suicide by hanging".  Can you imagine how many Sandra Bland's there were during apartheid?

Myself- on the corner in the city of Soweto 15 miles from Jo'Burg

      Fifteen miles outside of the city in the township of Soweto, home of Winnie Mandela and the place where blacks were relocated under the iron fist of apartheid, is the Hector Pieterson Children's Museum. This museum is dedicated to the Tamir Rice's, the hundreds of black children slain by police during the Soweto protests of a new decree of the Bantu Education Act, which stated that black schools were required to use Afrikaaner language and text as a teaching medium in an already dilapidated school system. A foreign language for black students and

Small town of tin roof houses off the highway in Soweto

teachers. A 30 yard gravel pit on the periphery of the museum is filled with bricks for each child victim of this violence. The length of the pit alone is a chilling reminder of how many lives were lost in just this brief period of a 50 year regime. 50 years of havoc wreaked on the culture, family-structure, and pride of a group of people...because of their rich, dark skin.
    Alas, this post is dedicated to the unwavering spirit of black South Africans! The natives I was able to speak to will always be in my heart. Jethro, my Zulu brother and Head Chef at the bed and breakfast I stayed at along with his beautiful wife and twin boys, my labmate Mpha and her friend NhlaNhla, my hostesses Ivon and Ntombi...all survivors of Apartheid, who, in spite of a brutal campaign to tear them down, still hold their heads high like the Kings and Queens they are. They reinforced my spirit as a black American and showed me how connected we are even thousands of miles away. They will NOT be forgotten. Finally, this post is also dedicated to my big brother and friend Dr. Manu O. Platt for granting me an opportunity to research HIV and tuberculosis while submerging myself in the history of South Africa. I cannot wait to repay him for this once in a lifetime trip! UNTIL NEXT TIME

DEUCES!

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