The longer I’m here in South Africa, the fewer pictures I take. I no l
onger feel the need to “document” the people I know and the places where I work. I find myself looking at people face to face instead of through a camera lens. It makes me very uncomfortable when people refer to my year of service with YAGM as “traveling.” Although I hardly blend into a crowd here in South Africa, I’ve become fairly good at picking out the tourists. They stick out for any number of reasons: dress, mannerisms, accent. In December I had the opportunity to be a tourist again when I visited Johannesburg for the first time since I arrived in country. Living here for several months now, I chaffed under adopting the tourist mentality again. I visited the Apartheid Museum and Constitution Hill. Both trips were moving, provocative explorations into South Africa’s history; tributes to how much the country has overcome in the ugly, brutal face of apartheid.
Tourists skim along the surface of a country. Bound to their guidebooks like Bibles, tourists want to see the “sights,” “attractions,” and “highlights,” within a maximum of three to four days per city. They visit the museums, shopping centers, and recommended restaurants. To enjoy the “ethnic flavors” they might even enjoy a traditional dance performance or buy hand crafted jewelry. None of these activities require any real engagement with the people(s) and the culture(s). Interaction may be reduced to ordering food from a waiter at a restaurant or asking
questions of a scripted tour guide. The rest of one’s time can easily be spent in the company one’s fellow travelers. As a tourist, one sees what the South African Department of Tourism wants one to see, and the guidebooks will not make mention of certain areas. It’s so easy to get caught up in the national narrative, the public discourse that one is “supposed” to hear.
As a visitor to Johannesburg, I did not stay in a recommended hotel, or even a youth hostel. I stayed in the flat of a colleague in Hillbrow, arguably one of the most notorious neighborhoods in all of South Africa. One of the stark realities of this country is that it is possible to move between different worlds in a matter of minutes. Constitution Hill, home of the Constitutional Court, lies just outside Hillbrow. The South African constitution is arguably one of the most liberal in the world, holding human rights such as access health care, education, social security, and other basic services (among many other things) sacrosanct. And yet, a five minute walk from the highest court in the land I heard gun shots every night and was told that I was not allowed to walk around the neighborhood without an escort (preferably without a purse for fear of petty theft). A few blocks away from Constitution Hill the government can not provide basic services like police protection and consistent access to electricity and running water. Is the South African government living out its ideals through policy implementation and political will? The reality on the ground for many, perhaps most, suggests no.
But is any government sincerely any different? In Washington D.C., American politicians consistently espouse values like equality and democracy. Parts of the city are indeed beautiful. But it is also a city with one of the highest crime and prostitution rates in the country. In any American city, some have the luxury to avoid certain neighborhoods, pretending that they doesn’t exist, or that they’re not “our problem,”–told to stay away for their own safety. It is easy to forget that fellow citizens live a life of poverty in those very neighborhoods, completely removed from the experience of some. Some, perhaps most, willingly don’t “see” those places. Their sight becomes selective. Have we become tourists in our own country, cutting ourselves off from experiencing those places that aren’t recommended in the guidebooks? Avoiding certain places out of fear (rational or irrational)? Living in South Africa has helped me to see my own country in new ways as the scales continue to fall from my eyes. I hope to continue to see not only South Africa, but also the United States, not through a camera lens, but with my own eyes, wide open.
onger feel the need to “document” the people I know and the places where I work. I find myself looking at people face to face instead of through a camera lens. It makes me very uncomfortable when people refer to my year of service with YAGM as “traveling.” Although I hardly blend into a crowd here in South Africa, I’ve become fairly good at picking out the tourists. They stick out for any number of reasons: dress, mannerisms, accent. In December I had the opportunity to be a tourist again when I visited Johannesburg for the first time since I arrived in country. Living here for several months now, I chaffed under adopting the tourist mentality again. I visited the Apartheid Museum and Constitution Hill. Both trips were moving, provocative explorations into South Africa’s history; tributes to how much the country has overcome in the ugly, brutal face of apartheid. Tourists skim along the surface of a country. Bound to their guidebooks like Bibles, tourists want to see the “sights,” “attractions,” and “highlights,” within a maximum of three to four days per city. They visit the museums, shopping centers, and recommended restaurants. To enjoy the “ethnic flavors” they might even enjoy a traditional dance performance or buy hand crafted jewelry. None of these activities require any real engagement with the people(s) and the culture(s). Interaction may be reduced to ordering food from a waiter at a restaurant or asking
questions of a scripted tour guide. The rest of one’s time can easily be spent in the company one’s fellow travelers. As a tourist, one sees what the South African Department of Tourism wants one to see, and the guidebooks will not make mention of certain areas. It’s so easy to get caught up in the national narrative, the public discourse that one is “supposed” to hear.As a visitor to Johannesburg, I did not stay in a recommended hotel, or even a youth hostel. I stayed in the flat of a colleague in Hillbrow, arguably one of the most notorious neighborhoods in all of South Africa. One of the stark realities of this country is that it is possible to move between different worlds in a matter of minutes. Constitution Hill, home of the Constitutional Court, lies just outside Hillbrow. The South African constitution is arguably one of the most liberal in the world, holding human rights such as access health care, education, social security, and other basic services (among many other things) sacrosanct. And yet, a five minute walk from the highest court in the land I heard gun shots every night and was told that I was not allowed to walk around the neighborhood without an escort (preferably without a purse for fear of petty theft). A few blocks away from Constitution Hill the government can not provide basic services like police protection and consistent access to electricity and running water. Is the South African government living out its ideals through policy implementation and political will? The reality on the ground for many, perhaps most, suggests no.
But is any government sincerely any different? In Washington D.C., American politicians consistently espouse values like equality and democracy. Parts of the city are indeed beautiful. But it is also a city with one of the highest crime and prostitution rates in the country. In any American city, some have the luxury to avoid certain neighborhoods, pretending that they doesn’t exist, or that they’re not “our problem,”–told to stay away for their own safety. It is easy to forget that fellow citizens live a life of poverty in those very neighborhoods, completely removed from the experience of some. Some, perhaps most, willingly don’t “see” those places. Their sight becomes selective. Have we become tourists in our own country, cutting ourselves off from experiencing those places that aren’t recommended in the guidebooks? Avoiding certain places out of fear (rational or irrational)? Living in South Africa has helped me to see my own country in new ways as the scales continue to fall from my eyes. I hope to continue to see not only South Africa, but also the United States, not through a camera lens, but with my own eyes, wide open.
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