Robben Island, Cape Town

Wednesday afternoon was spent at Robben Island, the prison island just off Cape Town. Originally built as a leper colony and later used as a military station, it became a prison in the Apartheid era specifically for ‘Coloureds and Blacks.’ The ‘Whites’ were in another prison on the mainland. The racial divides were maintained here in the strangest ways: Coloureds got a better ration of food, as well as winter clothes; the Blacks got a simpler diet (and less of it), as well as only short pants and short-sleeve shirts (even for winter). Apparently long pants were handed out in the event of Red Cross visits. Men slept 80 to a dorm, with no mattresses or beds: only two quilted blankets each, one serving as a mat and the other as the blanket.

The quarry is where all prisoners worked five days a week. Most got lung and eye disease from the limestone dust and glare off the white rock. The prisoners worked out a system for talking here, since this was the only place in which they were watched from some distance: they would work in groups of five to eight and while the two end men actually worked the rock face, the others in between would fake their work. The noise would from the two workers would cover the conversation of the others.

One building was purpose-built for a single prisoner: Robert Sobukwe, the initiator of one of the first uprisings in the 1960’s, the burning of identity cards required only by ‘Coloureds and Blacks.’ This non-violent protest eventually sparked major clashes between protesters and police, and Sobukwe was imprisoned. The sentence was life solitary confinement, and he was refused any social interaction. Not even his guards were allowed to speak with him.

The main prison block is where Nelson Mandela was kept. This part of the tour was actually guided by former prisoners of Robben island. They, in fact, were major forcesin having the island declared a heritage site. Our guide was Mr. Sparks, who was arrested and imprisoned for inciting resistance to Apartheid, and was there for some eight years. He took us into his own dorm. Adjoining the dorm were the washroom facilities: two toilets, urinal trough, three showers, and five sinks for eighty men. Only cold water, even in winter.

Nelson Mandela had a solitary cell, about ten foot square. Only two mats, bucket for a toilet, and a table and chair. No heat. Our capacity for cruelty, domination, and humiliation seems to be boundless.

The catamaran ferry that takes you to Robben Island is called ‘Sikhululekile,’ which means “We are free now.”

Gugulethu Township

The mid-point of the conference was a break-away from the sessions and learning groups. The first half of the day was a visit to Gugulethu Township. When Apartheid was enacted, Blacks and Coloureds (the official S.A. term for anyone of Asian or ‘mixed’ racial background) were forcibly removed to settlements isolated from the Whites. Gugulethu is about half-an-hour from Cape Town, and is a dense neighbourhood of houses, shops, churches, businesses, etc. In contrast to the so-called ‘informal settlement’s which are the corrugated metal shanty-towns, Gugulethu seems almost middle-class, but it is certainly not wealthy or even comfortable.

We were hosted by the Gugulethu Presbyterian Church. Note in the picture that all the windows are barred, and the church is surrounded by a high metal fence with razor wire on top. This is typical of most houses and buildings in many parts of Cape Town. Even low walls that can be easily climbed over will have strips of sharp metal spikes protruding from the top to discourage people from hopping over, or even sitting on the wall. It’s really unclear whether there is a serious safety threat this is meant to address, or is more symbolic of security and a siege mentality. I’ve wandered around a bit in our neighbourhood, and not felt at risk at all, but all the nearby houses are protected like this.

Pastor Mzukisi at the church in Gugulethu did speak of the social conditions, noting that the poverty is now wreaking more damage on the social fabric than the remnants of Apartheid. Adding to the problem is the HIV AIDS pandemic, in which one in four deaths in Africa is now attributable to AIDS. With so few resources, medication and medical care are beyond reach when there isn’t enough money for basics such as food, shelter, and clothing. A member of the church spoke about her diagnosis with HIV, her struggles with the stigma, and trying to get the money for medication. We also heard from an older woman who grew up during the Apartheid era and was resettled numerous times, eventually settling in Guglethu.

The whole Apartheid ethic was based on eugenics, much like Grant and I saw on exhibit in Ottawa at the War Museum. Here they used a number of simple measurements to determine where a person fell in the race spectrum from white to black. It wasn’t about blood lines as much as about appearance. We heard of a story where two brothers, children of a mixed marriage (married before Apartheid outlawed such relationships), were determined to be of different races and segregated because one had characteristics of the white mother, and the other characteristics of the black father. The system ruled where you could live, work, and travel, your education and work, and relationships. And somehow it was rationalized to be, well, rational.

Like churches everywhere, Gugulethu Presbyterian runs on the sweat of the women. About the same time we arrived (about 300 of us) a dozen women also arrived bearing the makings of the meal. While we listened to the ministers and the to stories of Koleka and Nonkosi, the other women were cooking up a storm. We had a great meal of rice and bean, carrots and greens, and some kind of curry. The women sang African hymns and danced in a tight circle while we were eating. Everyone does seem very warm and friendly, interested in hearing about Canada and places far away, and despite the hardships seem to have a joy in life.

Tuesday Congress

Today started off much cooler and over-cast after last night’s spectacular sunset. Day two of the Congress was very full with a number of films and speakers. The first session was on gender justice with Joanne Sandler giving a great discussion on media and gender justice. Pretty hard for women to get a fair shake in the media, when over 80% of reporters and commentators are men. She had a whole series of clips from TV about Hilary Clinton, and how she was portrayed in the media. She also had a collage of print images of Hilary that made her look anything from stupid to viscous. I’m not a Hilary fan, but when a TV commentator says he automatically crosses his legs when he sees her on TV, (and that’s one of the milder segments) it’s a bit over the top. Thank you Fox.

The second session was a film and discussion, based on the film “Shock Waves.” It profiled the work of Radio Okapi in Democratic Republic of Congo that was challenging the actions of the government and uncontrolled militia that were barricading traffic on the Congo river and extorting money from the locals for traveling along the river. The use of advocacy journalism combined with broadcast media put pressure on the government and military, but also helped mobilize the people into effective resistance; at huge risks to radio-jouranlists. The film was really well done, won numerous awards and was produced with support from the CBC and TeleFilm Canada; something we Canadians can be proud of!

The other film was supposed to be followed by a discussion, but that didn’t really happen because the film literally left most of the audience speechless. “Sometimes in April” chronicled the Rwandan genocide through a fictional family, from the ethnic tension created when the Belgians colonists left, through the rising hatred and mistrust to the eventual massacre of close to 100,000 people. Many parts of the film were taken from authentic sources, but woven together into a narrative. Julienne M. who works at WACC and is from Rwanda, introduced the film and told a bit of her own story of escape and loss of many friends and members of her family.

Cape Town Day One

What a long flight, although the service was great. I’d recommend Air-Berlin anytime. But 12 hours in a plane is more than any human-being should endure.

The Congress 2008 for World Assoc. for Christian Communication began today. Many people have been here since Saturday to enjoy Capetown and get over their jet-lag. Lots of them had longer trips than 12 hours.

The opening sessions was full of speeches, the usual formal welcoming stuff. The highlights, however, was a honouring of a dozen people who had worked tirelessly during the apartheid years, using their skills in communication and media to help overthrow that system. Doreen Spence from Canada was the key-note speaker, talking about Aboriginal issues. And the morning was topped off by a short address by Desmond Tutu. He’s a marvelous storyteller, speaker, and preacher.

I attended a couple of workshops this afternoon, but honestly don’t remember much about them. The travel fatigue set in big-time around 2:00 p.m., so I was running on empty.

The sunset is from my window on the 16th floor of the Ritz. I don’t think it’s that chain of hotels, though. Quality-wise, it’s more like a motel than a high-end hotel. But the view is spectacular. The two photographs show the rise of land going to the left toward Table-Top mountain. I’ve had no opportunity to explore the city, and probably won’t until much later in the week.

Munich

What a difference a day makes. Between it warming up a bit, the sun shining in a faultless blue sky, enjoying a much better tour and meeting some people on the tour, Munich glows!

The day dawned bright and clear, and after a light breakfast I headed over to the Marienplatz, with the idea of doing a half-day tour to Dachau, which is only outside of Munich. Unfortunately, the tour takes about 4 ½ - 5 hours, so that would make it difficult to make the train to the airport. What to do? The viewing platform at the top of the townhall tower beckoned, and on a clear day like this the view should be spectacular. It didn’t disappoint. Munich at your feet and the Alps lining the southern horizon. Also, the Glockenspiel is right above the viewing platform, and the bells, although louder, are much clearer and the music more melodious. Maybe the tour-guides should take a visit up there.

On descending, I saw one of the tour groups heading out from the Marienplatz, and asked to join them. It was a straight-forward walking tour of the city, like I tried to do yesterday, but this was with another comany. It turned out to be wonderful. The guide was well informed, didn’t try to be the comedian, and took us all over the city. The group was congenial, and I met some guys from Seattle (we later had lunch together) and a couple from Texas, the woman of which came originally from New Brunswick (her accent belied her roots, though; she had more drawl than Bush!).

Surfers are not only to be found in California, but also in central Munich. Who knew? A part of the river goes through a narrow channel, and a barrier makes a strong crest in the fast-moving water. There were about a dozen guys in wet-suits taking turns jumping into the river on their boards and riding the crest. They rode the crest back and forth across the width of the river (only about 30 feet), but stayed on the top of the crest. As soon as one fell over and floated down past the crest, another guy threw his board in and landed right on top of it, on the crest. Quite the scene, and not what you’d expect in Bavaria in October!

We finished the tour near the Viktualenmarkt, and three of us – Travis, John, and I headed over to the Hofbrauhaus, for lunch. They are on stop-over on the way to India for their third long vacation in that part of the world. John commented that tourists either love India or hate it; there’s almost no middle ground! Some day!Beer is only available in litre mugs, and we each had ‘typical’ Bavarian fare. An older couple a the end of our table joined our conversation and told us a bit about living in Munich. Seems most sensible Munichers stay away from Oktoberfest. Some millions of people come here over the two weeks. They had spent the day ‘in town’ and were having lunch before heading home.

Apparently I had committed a bit of a faux-pas by trying to eat my Oktoberfest cookie – the big heart-shaped gingerbread cookie at the hotel. Purely decorative! People walk all over Munich with these on strings around their necks during Oktoberfest, but don’t eat them. And with good reason. The woman beside us congratulated me on having such good teeth, as many a tooth has been broken on them!

I’m at Munich airport, and waiting for the flight to be called. All looks well, and it should be a good, though long flight. We leave at 6:10 p.m on Sunday and arrive in Capetown at 5:30 a.m. on Monday.

Munich

Ok, think of the last day of the EX, December 24th shoppers, and the airport at the beginning of March break – all at the same time – and it will give you an idea of the crowds in Munich the last weekend of Oktoberfest. Add umbrellas – because, of course, it’s raining – and you get even a better picture!

I made my way through the Viktualmarkt to Marianplatz, the centre of town, and thought I might catch a hop-on-hop-off tour as a way of getting to know Munich. But just outside the city hall, there was a group forming beside a tour guide with a big sign saying “Free Tours of Munich.” Of course, they’re not free – generous tipping is encouraged, but it was at the right place and time, so I joined up.

We were right in front of the town-hall with its world-famous Glockenspiel. Curiously enough, the tour guides (there were three) trashed it rather thoroughly as tacky. I imagine if you’ve heard it dozens of times, it would be, but as a novelty it has some merit. The tour proceeded well, until the sky opened up, and the rain poured down. Suddenly the market (where we were at the time) was a sea of umbrellas, and about five of us couldn’t find the tour guide or the rest of the group.

With it being cold and wet, I headed to the Deutches Museum, which houses a large science and technology collection. A reproduction of Galileo’s workshop, nice collection of clocks, airplanes (including airships), musical instruments were the best parts. The clock collection featured numerous by Riefler, who apparently was from Munich. Riefler invented an escapement that improved mechanical accuracy substantially, about the best before quartz and cesium timepieces.

There was lots of interesting exhibits about Zeppelins and other airships, including engines, sections of the superstructure, and some furnishings.

This ride, for some strange reason, was in the courtyard of the museum. As it rotates, the riders can manipulate the wings to change their flight angle, or even rotate. The picture is taken from a museum window, but it was just getting ‘air-borne’ when I was leaving, so I stood well back (why would anyone stand directly underneath? Especially right after lunch??).

By that time, the sky had cleared a bit for walking around and getting a few pics. I’d forgotten how much mental energy is required to work in a foreign culture. By foreign, I mean a context in which one has no language ability. I really enjoy French and can get by quite easily; I have a smattering of Italian and Spanish (which wouldn’t stand much of a test right now). But other than about six words in German (danke being the best), I’m helpless, and it really takes more work to make the effort, even when many people here do speak English.

Oh, and by the way, many people thought that Jesus was just the King of Kings, Son of Man, and God Incarnate.  It appears that he was also a watchmaker! At least in Munich.

Au revoir Strasbourg (Guten Abend Munich)*

Hotels are already beginning to lose their charm. The walls are like paper here; gratefully, the only embarrassing sounds are from the baby next door. The library at BNU was a profitable. Interestingly, there were lots of debates about resetting the Strasbourg Astronomical clock with the advent of time-zones in the later part of the 19th century. Up to that point, the clock was on local time calculated by the Strasbourg Observatory. With the new time-zone, that was half an hour slow. Great debate ensued, since the clock was ‘astronomical’ it was strongly felt the clock should show ‘true local time.’ The issue surfaced again during WWI with the introduction of Daylight Saving Time.

Research finished up around 2:00 p.m., leaving about three hours to wander the city in alternating bursts of sunshine and rain. Check the picture of the kayaks in the river, there was a flotilla of them negotiating the lock.

TGV trains are wonderful fast and smooth, although just like VIA they do run late. Arrived in Munich later than expected. Just a culture shock from Strasbourg, which, although very cosmopolitan, still has a bit of small-town atmosphere. Leaving the Bahnhof in Munich, you immediately land in the tawdry area of town. And yes, it’s Oktoberfest and the streets smell of beer and are crowded with men in lederhosen and women in dirndls.

Oh, the glass thing in the picture is the new Central Station in Strasbourg. Instead of demolishing the 19th century Beaux-Arts station, a glass shell envelopes it and creates an additional passenger area where the street used to pass by in front.

Time for bed, but there’s a movie on TV – have no idea what it is, but it’s Paul Newman and Julie Andrews, and they're in Germany and fighting bad guys. Rather odd coincidence.

*apologies to Anne-Marie MacDonald.