I am a Product of the Apartheid Era

I am a product of the apartheid era.

I grew up in a house where politics and especially apartheid was never discussed as a subject per se, because it was simply the normal way of life. Among the majority of the Afrikaners apartheid was essentially a cultural preference, the way they preferred to live, separated from the influences of the other cultures in South Africa. They attended their own schools, lived in their own neighborhoods, ate their own kind of food, celebrated traditional days important to them, spoke their own language and listened to their own music. Not that the rest of the world was ignored. World history, literature, sciences and geography, albeit with a European slant, were extensively taught at school. As a nation the Afrikaners, with their brave pioneering heritage and great aspirations for its children, were comfortable in their own cultural lair. Rightly or wrongly! They never thought their way of life or the politics of the country would ever change. Why should it? Unfortunately the practice of race segregation introduced by European overseers evolved into a cultural and political tool which had no chance of long term success in a changing world.

The ripples from Sharpville

I was born at the start of the 1960s in South Africa, at the height of the “grand” apartheid era, 18 days before the Sharpeville massacre. On March 21, 1960 between 5,000 and 10,000 black South Africans, as called upon by the Pan Africanist Congress (PAC), demonstrated against passbook laws in the small township of Sharpeville, thirty-five miles south of Johannesburg. They basically came to the police station to force the police to arrest them for refusing to carry the dreaded passbook, a dompas. A police force of 75, later reinforced to 300 was greatly outnumbered and although no one gave any order to shoot, someone did, the police panicked and opened fire, and when the shooting eventually quieted down, 69 people were dead and 181 wounded, a government produced number, although some claimed up to 400 died or were wounded.

That single day and that single event would be a turning point for South Africa and apartheid, because that is the day the world started to take notice of the policy of apartheid and the United Nations started to intervene in South African affairs. Foreign nations started to pull capital from South Africa. The Johannesburg stock exchange plummeted over the next two years and for the first time white South Africans started to emigrate in fear of a possible civil war. At the same time black South Africans started to leave the country for very different reasons. It would also start the process of South Africa exiting the British Commonwealth and lead to its declaration as a republic on 31 May 1961 and sever its constitutional ties with the United Kingdom of Great Britain.  The end of 155 years of English rule.

Sharpville aftermath.

Sharpville was not the start of the struggle for equality, but it was the catalyst for the African National Congress (ANC) and the PAC to start a 30-year armed struggle against the government of South Africa. At the same time though, the political atmosphere was ripe for polarization and black demand for political recognition and equality grew stronger, especially in light of the awakening of black consciousness throughout Africa during the 1960s. The world was changing and the Age of Colonialism in Africa was standing on its last feet in front of an open grave. 

Police inspecting passbooks

The gift of a book

In December 2010, while on vacation in South Africa, a family member gave me the book, Die Laaste Trek, ‘n Nuwe Begin (The Last Trek, a New Beginning) by F.W. de Klerk, ex-President of the Republic of South Africa. I had the best of intentions to read it, but never got around to it. During November 2013 while looking for something new and different to read, I was tired of novels and travelogues, I came upon the book again in my library and thought, why not. I have always wondered what happened during those years of negotiations at CODESA (Convention for a Democratic South Africa) when all political and cultural groups in South Africa met to determine South Africa’s future. And I have quietly wondered, once or twice, why we never had that second referendum after the completion of constitutional negotiations to approve a new constitution, as was promised by the government all along. Then there were the issues of the “non-negotiable” requirements of power-sharing (the Swiss Model) and the “entrenched protection of minority rights and cultures”. What happened that those issues were simply negotiated away or were they never really viable principles at all?

Mr. de Klerk and Mr. Mandela in different moods during the negotiations at CODESA.

While reading de Klerk’s autobiography, Nelson Mandela, the man who struggled for many years against apartheid and who was jailed for 27 years for acts of terrorism and crimes against the state, but who later succeeded de Klerk as President, died on December 5, 2013. Although I had no initial thoughts to read Mandela’s autobiography, Long Walk to Freedom, his death, while reading de Klerk’s book and things that de Klerk mentioned in his book, tickled my interest and I decided to buy and read Mandela’s book too to get a balanced perspective of what transpired behind the scenes in South Africa during 1990 to 1994. Although I lived through those stormy years in South Africa and actually voted in the referendum of 1992 to empower the National Party government to continue its negotiations with the African National Congress, I have to acknowledge I then only knew the side of the story that was consistent with my upbringing. 

Mr. de Klerk the day after the 1992 referendum.

Together de Klerk and Mandela achieved a rare feat in world politics when they brought about systematic change through “relative” peaceful means instead of a bloody revolution or civil war. From within the legislative structures of a nation de Klerk dismantled all apartheid laws and convinced his fellow politicians and in general the Afrikaner nation that the time for change had arrived.  On the other hand, Mandela had to convince a youth oriented, radical and militarized ANC, hell-bent on continuing its guerrilla warfare, that the only way forward to a peaceful and bloodless future was through negotiations instead of a continued armed struggle. 

 Inauguration of Mr. Mandela as President - April 1994.

Apartheid was nothing new

Apartheid is today mainly associated with the white people of South Africa, and more specifically the Afrikaner group, and the “purified” National Party that came to rule this part of the world in 1948 and would do so uninterrupted until 1994. But apartheid is really an old product of the Dutch and the English overlords who banned or punished (in most cases) racial integration since 1652 when the Dutch established a refreshment station at the Cape of Good Hope on the southern tip of Africa. And they were assisted by the French Huguenots, the Germans, and to a lesser extent the Italians, the Portuguese, the Polish, the Jews, the Swiss and several other smaller groups of Europeans that migrated to South Africa through the 300 years preceding 1948. As the white citizens of South Africa who could have influenced the European overlords to some extent, and later, as the voters for legislators and government, they, the white citizens, all had a part in kneading, molding and keeping separate cultural development alive seeing that it was never previously eradicated nor were any laws changed to allow non-white people to vote for the general assembly or to participate in government. Of course it was not called apartheid before 1948, but in practice it was.

Mr. Mandela destroying his passbook in 1952.

Take the sensitive case of the passbook that blacks were required to carry. During the first 150 years after 1652, the Dutch ruled and as mentioned above any form of black and white integration was resisted and punished. The British took control of the Cape in 1806 and in 1809 introduced the Hottentot Code, which required that all Khoikhoi and other free blacks carried passbooks stating where they lived and who their employers were. Persons without such passes could be forced into employment by white masters. With the emancipation of slavery in the British Empire imminent the pass laws were revoked in 1828. However, after the discovery of diamonds in the Northern Cape area in 1872, the town of Kimberley's white claimholders persuaded the British colonial administration to introduce a new set of pass laws to limit the mobility of black migrant workers, who frequently changed employers in a constant (and usually successful) attempt to bargain wages upward. This law would become the foundation of the later passbook laws that led to the Sharpville demonstration and the many general strikes about pass laws during the 1960s.

The last trek

To do a detail review of the books after so many years and a movie that was based on Mandela’s book is rather useless so I won’t, but I would like to touch on some aspects of both books.

I feel The Last Trek, a New Beginning is just a little too short for an autobiography, especially if it is about the life of such a prominent person that changed the direction of a whole nation. De Klerk’s summarized treatment of his earlier years up to his entry into Parliament, what influenced him those early years while he was a lawyer, and what caused him to change history could have been fleshed out a bit more. But then again maybe there wasn't more details to be fleshed out? It is obvious from the book and to some extent de Klerk agreed, that in principle he was not such a passionate reformer as some would think, but that change was forced upon him and the government and the white people of South Africa. And, strangely, he often gave his predecessor, Mr. P.W. Botha, whom he loathed, credit for initial reforms prior to 1989 when de Klerk became State President.

It is also obvious from the book that his initial “non-negotiable” requirements for power-sharing and protection for cultural minorities came to nothing. This was mainly due to a combination of the National Party and government negotiators being railroaded by the ANC negotiators inside the halls of CODESA, and even more effectively, the ANC-backed “rolling mass actions”, intimidation through strikes and other forms of violence, especially black-on-black violence, to make the country ungovernable, thus weakening the hand of the government negotiators. The issue of the second referendum to approve the negotiated constitution also came to nothing because of the ANC’s demand that a constitution can only be approved by a parliament elected by all the peoples of South Africa instead of by just a minority of the people.

In my view, the only true successes achieved by de Klerk and his team at the negotiation tables, and these are major achievements, were the relative peaceful handover of power (South Africa could easily have had a civil war which happened so often in other countries) and the continuation of a parliamentary system of government.  

Overall, the book was an interesting read that focused mostly on the political events surrounding de Klerk through his political years, but fell short on a personal insight into the man. In his book The Last Afrikaner Leaders Hermann Giliomee quoted a speech de Klerk made on 21 January 1997 in London: "The decision to surrender the right to national sovereignty is certainly one of the most painful any leader can be asked to make. Most nations risk war and catastrophe rather than surrender this right. Yet this was the decision we had to make."

I would have liked to read more about the struggle inside this man as he came to the decision "to surrender the right to national sovereignty."     

Exciting but long

I found Nelson Mandela’s autobiography, Long Walk to Freedom, both an exciting but also at times a boring and too long read. (600+ pages.)  I really struggled though some passages of the book, especially the near minute-by-minute, detailed descriptions about life and communications inside prison, the blow-by-blow commentary on prison commanders, and even sections of the Ravonia trial just went on and on.

However, I found his early history, education, life in Johannesburg studying and practicing law and the traditions of the Xhosa people captivating and informative. His ability to articulate his beliefs and the sheer determination of the man to achieve a better dispensation for all disadvantage people is certainly admirable. His patience with people, ability to listen to all viewpoints without judgment, stamina, and especially his mental, and emotional strength through the prison years were venerable.    

The simplistic view that many people in the world have of South Africa and apartheid is that Mr. de Klerk was the demon while Mr. Mandela was the perfect picture of peace, love, and forgiveness. However, in my mind both had blood on their hands; De Klerk through his limited actions during his presidency to control the police and third forces within the police, even though he constantly claimed that he was unaware of who was trying to disrupt the country and what the caused was of the many black-on-black violent attacks, especially in the Kwazulu-Natal province. Today of course, we know that there was a secret force active within the police and responsible for coordinating some of these attacks. But Mandela also had blood on his hands through his leadership of Umkhonto we Sizwe, the military wing of the ANC, who was responsible for many acts of terrorism and death of innocent people and the fact that he at times took no or little definitive steps between 1992 and 1994 to restrain the ANC supporters from taking part in these black-on-black attacks.  

Clockwise from top left: Arrest warrant for Mr. Mandela; Prisoners on Robben Island; Mandela paying a visit to his old cell; Mandela and Walter Sisulu.



The last thought I would like to highlight from the two autobiographies is the stormy relationship that existed between these two men. In de Klerk’s book there are several references to his frustrations with Mandela’s unwillingness or stubbornness at times to cooperate during the negotiations and Mandela’s verbal attacks on de Klerk in the media. De Klerk was especially frustrated that Mandela did not use his influence to stop the “rolling mass actions” of the United Democratic Front, which succeeded to some extend to make the country ungovernable and Mandela’s refusal to ask the world to lift economic sanctions against South Africa after 1992’s unbanning of the ANC, Mandela’s release from prison and the scrapping of all apartheid laws.

For his part Mandela accused de Klerk of being dishonest, arrogant and treating him like a fool. He also accused de Klerk of not being a true reformer and for wanting to negotiate a constitution that still reeked of apartheid, just under another disguise. (He was referring to the various blocking devices that the National Party wanted to have included in the constitution for the protection of minority groups.)

The point is both men knew that although they might not have liked one another, they needed each other to bring about change in South Africa. They had a sort of “uncomfortable affair” to bring about this necessary change to prevent a total financial meltdown and most probably a bloody civil war.

Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood

In closure, although it took me 3 years to pick up de Klerk’s book and although I never had any intention to read Mandela’s book, I now have to acknowledge that I enjoyed both books, that I am richer in knowledge and understanding and that I am pleased that I read both books. In some way it is also a kind of closure about some faint questions that still lingered out there about the political changes that took place in South Africa.

Left: The first meeting between President de Klerk and Nelson Mandela in 1990 while Mr. Mandela was still in jail.

To quote the title of Eric Burdon’s book Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood, (Eric was the iconic voice of the 1960’s band, The Animals, that gave us the legendary House of the Rising Sun), this article is in no way an apology for 300 years of separate "development" or a praising for the "good" apartheid brought for a specific or any cultural group in South Africa. However, apartheid,  systematically institutionalized as in South Africa, was a degrading and undignified policy that prevented non-white peoples of South Africa to pursue their own dreams and ambitions within the realm of a civilly accepted society.  

Nor is this article a condoning or disapproval of past or present South African governments. I think any country has from time to time good and bad governments that make good and bad decisions. No government is ever perfect.  

 

Mr. Mandela and Mr. de Klerk sharing a joke while Archbishop Tutu looks on.

Furthermore, apartheid was not just a case of a white minority that could vote and a black majority that couldn’t. That is a far too simplistic view and unfortunately that is the view maintained by many people that does not have a deep understanding of South Africa’s history. Those that lived and grew up in South Africa knows that apartheid laws tried to control every fiber of society in South Africa.

For some Afrikaners apartheid was all about politics and they saw it as a means to strengthen the position of the Afrikaners, to get rid of the British and to revive the dream of an independent republic like they had before the Anglo-Boer War (1899-1902). An Afrikaner country. Even in de Klerk’s book he mentioned the resentment Afrikaners had for the English while he grew up.

For some it was cultural, a case of Afrikaners rule by Afrikaners and no integration with other races. James A Michener in his saga about South Africa, The Covenant, described apartheid, as told to him by, I think, a white politician, as a multi-layer bowl of different colored Jell-O, the perfect picture of separate development of the various races, each in its own land. Interestingly, after 1994, Nobel Prize winner Archbishop Desmond Tutu would coin a similar vision for the new South Africa. But instead of seeing the different bands of colors as separate development he saw unity of the different colors. He called it the rainbow nation.   

Mr. de Klerk paying his last respect to an old foe and opponent and friend and partner after Mr.Mandela death. 

Finally, this article is by no means and it was never intended to be an analysis of apartheid. It is simply a brief review of two books I enjoyed reading, authored by two unique persons that had a definitive say in the death of the apartheid era, intertwined with slivers of my own thoughts, shards from my history, personal and cultural, rightly or wrongly, that will forever be part of my South African heritage that I have no wish to wish away. The authors, like me and millions of other South Africans, Black, White, Colored or Indian, were products of and touched by the apartheid era.               

 Election 1994 TV debate

Disgusted in Newlands Crowd

Last Saturday evening after a really long and hard day’s work on the farm I had just enough energy left to braai (BBQ) some boerewors (Kentucky farmer’s sausage in my case since it is homemade on the farm) and a few lamb chops before I settled in front of the TV to watch the weekend’s Stormers versus the Cheetahs rugby game. But barely was I seated and I was totally disgusted by the Newlands crowd for booing Heinrich Brussow as he led his team out on the field for his 50^th Super rugby game. A milestone for any player! Something to be respected and celebrated with any player that week in and week out entertain fans that go to stadia or watch games over the TV alike.   

I am a born and bred Capetonian and a lover of the beautiful game of rugby. As I mentioned in my profile, my blood is blue with white hoops, and I have always supported the Stormers or any of the local teams that play at the hallowed grounds of Newlands. During the Super rugby tournament I try to make time every weekend to watch at least one game, the Stormers game. Although I must say, lately, with the Stormers’s inability to score bonus point tries per game, and their terrible second half performances, the Blue Bulls games are far more entertainment. Not that I will become a Blue Bull soon, but at least they are providing me more entertainment value for my time than the Stormers at this moment.

However, booing has become a sad sickness at Newlands where not only New Zealand and Australian teams are booed during run on, but also South African teams. Now booing happens at other stadia too during kicking for goals (which is really silly too) or when bad refereeing decisions are made, but why boo when a team runs on to the field to provide entertainment. Who are these nutcases that come to a stadium with the purpose to get the negative experience from entertainment instead of the positive? And if it were just 20 or 30 random persons booing one could still understand it, but it sounded like half the stadium did it. If I was disgusted by it from far away I wonder how many “good” spectators were ashamed by it at the stadium.

Looking at statistics Newlands draw the most crowds of all the teams on a regular basis, more than 32,000 people per game, and that is fantastic, but it still does not justify disrespectful behavior. I know that rugby is a professional sport and the amateur notion of doing it for enjoyment is gone. I know that sport is a powerful energizer of spirit and camaraderie, but do we have to demean the ones who are providing us the pleasure and enjoyment of the sport?

And please, don’t tell me they are booing at Loftus or Kings Park too. What has happened to the Cape Town ethic of being civil, respectful and decent, and welcoming to all, united or divided, friend or foe, to one of, if not the best city in the world. Just because fans are booing at other stadia does not mean the Newlands crowd should strive to go down the same cesspit. Be better! Be respectful. You always used to be.

Picture from http://www.crosfields.com/content/sport/gallery/

The White Afrikaner: To Be Or Not To Be Ashamed.

White South Africans should refrain from commenting on political events and should in general feel ashamed for their past wrong doings and their permanent state of privilege because of their whiteliness.

During a recent business trip to Mexico in early June and with time on my hands to surf the Internet I came upon a philosophical website that wrote about a paper from a lecturer at Rhodes University in Grahamstown, South Africa, that is causing quite a storm in the South African teacup. I started writing a personal response for this blog but never got to finish it. Dr Samantha Vice, in her paper called “How Do I Live in This Strange Place?” say many things that are rubbing many people up the wrong way. And when a fellow Afrikaner blogger, Boer in Ballingskap, recently also commented on this paper in his post "Oor skuldgevoelens en skaamte", from a slightly different angle than what I saw it, I felt this is just a too juicy a subject to ignore and dug up my initial blog notes on this issue.

Basically, I feel there are several holes in Dr. Vice’s logic. As a philosopher she feels that she has the responsibility to strive for a higher moral for all white South Africans, but that white South Africans can never really achieve that moral state if they don’t denounce their privileged state of being born white.

Here are my issues:

“That whiteness is a problem all over the world does not however fully explain the problem that whiteness is here, nor does it fully capture the nuances of our moral experience. The problem in white South Africa is not just with being white, but being white South African.”

There are many white nationalities that never were colonial powers and will strongly object against this generalization that whiteness is a problem to them too. I am thinking here in particular of Scandinavian countries. Furthermore, this statement also implies race superiority and that is not necessarily only a white race issue. There are Asian peoples and African peoples that think they are superior to their fellow Asian and African peoples.

“I talk from a personal, but what I hope is still a fairly representative position. While I am not an Afrikaner and so have escaped the taint that identity brings with it, I am a white South African, undeniably a product of the Apartheid system and undeniably still benefiting from it.”

I assume, maybe incorrectly, that she is from that other privilege group called Anglo South African, people that have always seen themselves as English, from that island up north, associated their whole being as English and just happen to live in South Africa, but with the backdoor always open toward England. I may be wrong, but those kind of people don’t usually have a truly patriotic view and deep passion for South Africa and has in the past looked at white, Afrikaner South Africans with derogatory eyes, which is probably why she stated:

“One need not be especially patriotic to recognize this—in the sense of feeling pride in one’s nationality, having a personal stake in one’s country’s prestige, identifying oneself deeply with its culture or history and feeling personally harmed when it is beaten or belittled. I, for instance, am not patriotic in any of these ways.”

I am not defensive toward Dr. Vice’s writing; she certainly is making some points that are worth contemplating. After all, apartheid can only be condemned in the strongest terms. Nor am I an arrogant white South African, Afrikaner if you like, and simply reject her point of view. But she tends to ignore history and what usually happened through the millennia when one ruling group replaces another ruling group, namely, the acceptance of the rulers, but with a grudge. This grudge is sometimes forgotten over time by the generations that lived through it and the disassociation from it by generations that come after it. In this sense, three or four or five generations from now, whiteness might not be a problem in South Africans. However, it is quite perceivable that a form of blackness entitlement, very similar to her definition of whiteness might become the norm in South Africa. Therefore, replacing one unmoral state of mind with another. Furthermore, South Africa never had and still now does not have a unified culture. The Rainbow Nation is exactly that; different bands of colors that might never unite to a single color. If it does it can’t be called a rainbow anymore.

She states the problem as:

“What is it to acknowledge one’s whiteness? Is it to acknowledge that one is inherently tied to structures of domination and oppression, that one is irrevocably on the wrong side?” I think the answer to Alcoff’s question in South Africa is fairly obviously “yes.” Whites in South Africa ought to see themselves as a problem.

Should Tibetans also see themselves as the problem because the Chinese are their rulers? After all, whites willingly gave up their political power in South Africa. Furthermore, the blacks have not openly chased them away either. All three South African presidents have stated categorically that South Africa needs white South Africans to keep the country moving forward.

To say whites should see themselves as the problem and look inward and refrain from complaining or criticizing the political situation or to retreat into themselves and be shameful for what happened in the past is nothing short of mental suicide, and denying oneself to exercise ones constitutional right to freedom of speech and to become a zombisized hearing, seeing mute who walks around with downcast eyes whenever a black person is around.

As I see it, white South Africans have three options.

One, you accept Dr. Vice’s advice to a certain degree, pull back behind your physical and mental laer, become a apolitical zombie and complain if you have to in private to who ever wants to listen.
Two, you speak your mind in public about rights and wrongs when you feel the need and in that way contribute to the constructive debate to try and achieve a higher moral standard for all.
Or, three, you carefully contemplate the realities of the above two options and, if you can become a regrettable zombie or feel your single, blowing-in-the-wind voice can contribute and make a difference you stay, but if you feel this is not possible for you “jy pak jou goed en trek Ferreira.”

Therefore, a decision to be or not to be ashamed, at best, must be made on a personal level, based on personal preferences and ideals, and personal personality traits, and not on national or race or cultural level.


I am just a simple man, trying to do onto to others as I want others to do onto me and trying to find general "moral" happiness in my own (white) skin, rather than pursuing a higher moral state of mind that I feel I will never achieve in any case. It is not because I feel ashamed of my past or what my forefathers did that I will never achieve this high moral state, but it is a rather a case of knowing what I am, who I am and what I want to be and I just do not wish to ever achieve such a state. I don’t think I am much different in thinking than many other people in general or many other white South Africans. Yes there were many white on black wrongdoings under Apartheid, but there are also many wrongdoings, black on black wrongdoings, now under the ANC. Should they also not feel ashamed for their current black entitlement attitude?

You can read Dr. Vice's "How Do I Live in This Strange Place?" here.

Treasure Hunting

The Bovlei Valley Retreat against a backdrop of the Haweque Mountains.

It's raining again/Oh no, my love's at an end.

Oh no, it's raining again/and you know it's hard to pretend.

Oh no, it's raining again/Too bad I'm losing a friend.

Oh no, it's raining again/Oh will my heart ever mend.

“It’s Raining Again” – Supertramp

I am not sure what rain has to do with lost love, except that grey overcast skies tend to make life seems more miserable similar to losing love. But oh yeah, it’s raining again and I am starting to think it might be a good idea to snap a picture of the sun when it eventually present itself again, blow it up to billboard size, put a spotlight on it, paste it to my patio door to remind me that the sun still exists and just to generally brighten up the weather-related “house-arrest” we are currently enduring. One could convince oneself that somehow the notorious bad English weather crossed the Atlantic pond and established itself over Kentucky.

But I have nothing to complain about. What with the Mississippi overflowing its banks, and thousands been driven from their homes and farms for weeks while they wait for flood waters to retreat. Thankfully I am on a hill, away from low lying, flood prone areas.

Looking back toward Wellington and the Limietvallei from Bain's Kloof Pass during our visit to the region in December 2010.

The Location

If you drive east along the R301 in the Western Cape, away from the town of Wellington, toward the Bain’s Kloof Pass, one is confronted by the majestic Hawequa Mountains, which rises from the Limietvallei (Limit Valley, so called because it was the limit of European settlement in the early days of the Cape of Good Hope, the outer post) like a massive barrier between civilization and the dark African continent.

Wellington, originally named Wagenmakersvallei by the Dutch or Val du Charron by the French Huguenot settlers, meaning the place where they make and repair wagons, and then renamed by the English to Wellington, after Arthur Wellesley, the 1st Duke of Wellington and the man who defeated Napoleon at the battle of Waterloo, lies on the banks of the Kromme River and at the foot of the Groenberg (Green Mountain). The area is not known as a premier wine region in South Africa. It is more famous for its fruit farming, dried fruit industry and for being the nursery of vine rootstock. Between 80% to 90% of South Africa’s vine rootstock comes from Wellington farms.

The Hunt

A few weeks ago M and I had to go into Lexington and she wanted to stop at a specific store. I notice there was a liquor store nearby that I have never visited. After I dropped her off for her shopping I went to look if I can find any “treasures”. Now don’t think I stop at every liquor store I see, but just like some people, when they have time on their hands, go rummaging through antique stores for “treasures” or others go to nurseries to look for unique or specimen plants, I, and there are many people like me, go to a liquor store to meander through aisles and shelves and possibly find an extraordinary or interesting gem of a wine. It may be a wine that looks interesting based on the description on the label or I may have read about the terroir, but never tried a wine from there before. A Wine explorer! I don’t have a specialty, but I am always on the lookout for South African wines, especially new wines or new estates from the ever enlarging South African wine industry, and especially here in Kentucky where South African wines are not found in abundance.

I browsed through the shop’s Cabernets, Merlots and Zinfandels, their imports from France, Italy, Chili, Australia and many more and was quite surprised at the variety for such a small store. I found a Marques de Cáceres Crianza from Spain, which I wrote about in my previous post. But apart from some Graham Beck wines, nothing much from South Africa. But I didn’t see any Shiraz wines anywhere and when I asked a store worker he pointed toward the back wall, not hidden away, just away from the other wines. Why I don’t know. Maybe it was the only space they had for them.

It wasn’t a large selection, but again, I was pleasantly surprised at the variety and there I got my kick for the evening, there I found my “treasures”. I found a Fairview Goat-Roti 2007 (a Shiraz and Viognier blend), but you find Fairview’s Goats do Roam wines in all the bigger stores here. But I also found something I have never heard of or read about before, an Eventide Shiraz 2005 from the Mischa Wine Estate in Wellington. I know a little about the other more well-known Wellington estates like Diemersfontein, Doolhof, and Welbedacht, but I have never heard of the Mischa Estate before. And that, the unknown, the newly discovered, is one of the criteria for my definition of “treasure.” Of course, the unknown could and has in the past sometimes backfired, but in this case, what a pleasurable find it was.

The Treasure

This deep rich garnet colored Shiraz is all about fruitiness and was a gold winner at the International Michelangelo Wine Awards. From the first whiff to the last lingering velvety aftertaste the overall impression is one of well balanced fruit with a subtle, but valuable contribution from aging in oak barrels. The wine is complex on the palate. Juicy, leaning toward jammy, with lots of berry fruit, balanced tannins and mild spiciness from Shiraz’s usual peppery to very complementary cinnamon notes. I am not a greater lover of the spice and will rarely eat something with an overly cinnamon taste, but the hint of cinnamon gives the Eventide Shiraz a truly unique taste that makes it stand on its own rather than being just another mildly-spiced Shiraz. Which make me wonder? This is major fruit terroir. Is there a link in the soil between the valley’s many fruit trees and the fruitiness in the wines from Wellington? Probably not, it is just good soil.

South Africa produces many good wines. It does not have the consistence in quality and the history of the French, nor the market and funding of the Americans, but its wine producers have the spirit and passion to compete with the big boys. Kudus to Andrew Barns and his team at Mischa Wine Estate for injecting that passion into this very pleasurable, drinkable “treasure”.  

What Do You Know?

Got this magazine last week in my inbox and was pretty surprised to see a South African passport on top of what look like a heap of Japanese passports regarding an article about immigration. The article did not actually mentioned anything about South Africa. It exclusively discuss the immigration situation in Japan.

Abuse or simply convenient?

Makieties, Reflections and Observations

The old Post Office in Philadelphia

The last weekend of our near four week excursion to Cape Town was one of great makieties (parties) and why not, it was New Year’s weekend, and moments of reflection (sometimes in the midst of parties), and a last swing through the Swartland and the hustling of packing luggage and the reality that all good times always comes to an end.


Reflections of Goodbye


As always the time and the accompanied emotions of departure are such a blur of mental images and such a momentary feeling of finality. You know it was coming, but it still felt like it crept up on you too fast. That moment you stand at the gate to the security entrance and the last hug you give each person that came to the airport to say goodbye, you expressing your appreciation for the good times you were able to share with them and meant it and holding on to the hug for as long as you feel you can. That last turnaround after you have gone through security and gave a final wave and saw how they all stand in a small group waving back, and you experienced that fleeting moment of loneliness (them on the outside, you on the inside, the feeling of separation so irreversible by the narrow security tunnel.) And finally, while some had tears in their eyes and others had lumps in their throats, the thought that it could be years before you see some of these people again (or never – life is so unpredictable and oh so fragile). But then you turn away, hearing a final announcement for your flight, head for the departure gate, reach for your boarding pass and passport, and you know it is not a final goodbye, you are hopeful, it is just arrivederci, au revoir, auf wiedersehen, tot ons mekaar weer sien.

Herondekte, Afrikaanse woord wat ons jare laas gehoor het:
Jammerlappie
Nuwe Afrikaanse woord wat ek nog nooit voorheen gehoor het nie:
Vloermoer

Riebeek-Kasteel Dutch Reformed Church. Built on a hill it towers over the town.

A Last Swing Through the Swartland

I don’t know why the Swartland, and for that matter the Karoo too, is so enchanting to me. After all it doesn’t have the natural beauty of the Boland with its mountains and green valleys. The Swartland is mostly gently slopping, rolling fields and meadows, wheat-brown with patches of grey and black. However, these days it is getting greener with more farmers planting vines and fruits. Maybe because it is there that my family genes come from or because I spent so much time in the Swartland and the Karoo as a child. (But that’s for another post.)


The last Sunday several family members and we drove to Riebeek-Kasteel for lunch at the Royal Hotel. The town is about an hour's drive from Cape Town, just past Malmesbury. Before lunch most of them sauntered through the few small shops down the road from the hotel that sold anything from preserves, biltong, antique furniture, vintage clothing, homemade springbok and curry meat pies, rusted wrought-iron garden furniture, and cacti plants, while I was snapping photos of the Dutch Reformed Church nearby (the architectural beauty of churches is fascinating to me) and watching colored kids hassling people for money as they came to park their cars.

Riebeek-Kasteel: The ladies returning from shopping in the few small shops that were open on Sunday.

Observation: There seem to be “parking attendants” everywhere, hand reaching out for money to supposedly “have found you the parking spot” and “watch” over your car.

After lunch we drove through the few streets of the tiny town, marveled at how the town has grown and changed and drove by the house my father once lived in for many years about 20 years or so ago. That jogged my memory because I can still remember how we use to come here on Sundays and braai soutribbetjie under the massive oak tree in the back yard and after lunch fell asleep on blankets in its shade.

The restored old Post Office in Philadelphia is now transformed to the StoepSit Kafee 

Returning to Cape Town we stopped for a few moments in the quaint little town of Philadelphia. Only 20 minutes from Cape Town on the N7, it amazes me that this little town has not yet been snapped up and changed by development. Most of it is still like it was in the 1950s or before. Sure there is some new development in a small pocket of the town and cleverly kept away from the old town area, which is untouched except for the restored buildings. New uses were found for these restored buildings. The old post office was turned into a café and the old flour mill into a restaurant, only open on Sundays and serves traditional South African dishes. I hope the little town stay like it is, but I doubt that it will survive the onslaught of an ever increasing Cape Town.

Signs from various towns we traveled.

Observation: Cape Town hasn’t changed much in the last 7 years. Yes, there are more suburbs and houses and shopping centers on its outskirts, especially beyond Blouberstrand and the Plattekloof area, but the old familiar places and roads of the southern suburbs still look the same. In general, the place actually looks cleaner, less rubbish along the roads, etc. since I was there last in 2003. Of all the bad press you sometimes read overseas about South Africa, I never felt I was endanger of being mugged or robbed at anytime, but then I purposefully didn’t travel to “frontier line” areas, where, in similar areas in many other large world cities you also stand the chance of being mugged or attacked.

A collage of Riebeek-Kasteel.

Afrikaners Bly Plesierig (Afrikaners like partying)

The day before, the Saturday, was a classic “the day after the night before.” Quiet and placid and I spent some part of the day watching northern hemisphere rugby en highlights of the 2nd cricket test between South Africa and India on the TV. However it was more a case of the day after the day before instead of the night before. Because on the Friday, the day before New Year’s Day and traditionally big party night in South Africa like everywhere across the world, the partying started late morning already. A very good and dear friend of ours, who is at the same time my brother-in-law’s neighbor, had a big makietie (party) for his 70th birthday. They combined/opened up, whatever, the two backyards with the bar in one yard and the lunch tables in the other and smack in the middle they barbequed a whole lamb on a rotisserie for lunch. ‘n Lekker spitbraai. Lunch was done by 2 pm, but few people left. While some used the swimming pool, others baked in the sun or found shade under the gazebos, talking, drinking and just enjoyed the company. The partying continued through the afternoon into the evening until we counted down the seconds to midnight and the start of a new year. Along the way, in mid-evening, a fire was restarted and more lamb chops and boerwors appeared and were barbequed and we ate again. No wonder the Saturday was spent quietly. Until the evening when we went to another braai and the eating and all that goes with it started all over again.

Now you know why I said in the very first sentence of the first blog post about this vacation I needed a rest, another vacation after a vacation. The hospitality of Afrikaners is immense and legendary. Hence the old song: Afrikaners is plesierig.

The Aitsa Cafe in Riebeek-Kasteel. 

Observation: I spoke to several people about local politics and the state of South Africa and there seem to be some level of anger if your scratch the surface. Mostly though it was directed at the levels of corruption in the government and Black Economic Empowerment society in general. One person so aptly described it, and Afrikaans can be such a beautiful descriptive language, as the “skilpadstertsindroom”, the turtle tail syndrome, with every business deal there is the cupped hand in the back, just like a turtle's tail, to collect their personal, under the table, commission.

Ceiling art in the Canal Walk shopping mall.

 

Observation: How can one live a normal life in an abnormal environment? Here every house has an alarm system. It’s voluntary confinement behind high walls, burglar proofing and safety doors with dogs as additional safety devices. Each man in its own castle with its safety moat. I suppose I forgot how I use to live. It was natural then. It just doesn’t feel natural anymore.

Finally…The flight back was more or less uneventful. Thank God! We did miss our connection flight from Washington, DC to Atlanta, Georgia due to a delay in Dakar, Senegal and a very long and detoured approach into Dulles airport in Washington, DC, which meant we also missed our planned connection from Atlanta to Lexington, KY. But Delta Airline was very helpful to arranged new flights. Luckily the wait was not that long and we only arrived home about 3 hours later than the original plan. Tired, dehydrated and with clogged sinuses from the airplanes air conditioning, seriously in need of a nice shower, a warm bed and a long sleep. Jetlag would only come the next day, but no one care about it then.

Although I tremendously enjoyed the vacation in Cape Town it was also good to be back home. No matter where home might be. Until the next trip…

Notes: Of the major tourist attractions of Cape Town, the so called “big six”, we visited only one, Groot Constantia. Although we have been there on a previous occasion we would have like to go to Kirstenbosch, but we ran out of time. Of the others, the Table Mountain Cableway, the Victoria and Alfred Waterfront, and Cape Point: been there before and had no plans to go there this time. Robben Island: never been there and have no desire to ever go there.

Regrets: None really. I would have like to visit more wine farms, because I like traveling the typical winelands countryside, the camaraderie of tasting wines and the ambiance of wine estates, but it is probably a good thing I didn’t get to more farms. I then would have had to have a liver transplant upon my return.

Churches in the Western Cape

Table Mountain from Signal Hill

Moon reflecting on the sea at St. Helena Bay 

Culinary Delicacies and Cape Panoramas

Top left: Hout Bay; Top right: Cape Town city centre;

Bottom left: Cape Town Stadium; Bottom right: Robben Island seen from Signal Hill.

The last 2 weeks of our vacation in South Africa were a series of “one night stands”, day trips from our base in Thornton. We were culinary travelers, going from one delicious destination to the next delectable destination. If we weren’t savoring the views and vistas of the Cape we were indulging ourselves in its foods and the hospitality of friends and family. We were on the go all the time.

Initially I said I was not yet sure whether I was going to buy any wine to take back home, but I don’t think anyone believed me. I didn’t even believe myself. Usually the writers of travel books will tell you not to buy wine in your travel destination. Drink it and enjoy it. The wine, they say, even if it is just an average wine, won’t usually taste the same when you bring it back. Something to do with the fact that one is relaxed, on vacation, your senses is open to new experiences, the location’s ambiance, the local food and how well it pairs with the local wine. I suppose there is some truth in that. In any case, many times you can find that same wine at your local store or order it over the Internet if you take the time to look for it. And sometimes it’s even cheaper than buying it overseas. I can attest to that when I found the exact bottle of limoncello I bought in Italy at my local liquor store and cheaper than what I paid for it in Venice. And then there is always the chance that the box of wine or a bottle of wine packed inside your luggage can break while being transferred from airplane to airplane or from airplane to the luggage pickup point. And I can attest to that too, when, on a previous trip from South Africa I had wine bottles broken when one of my boxes of wine fell from that ramp that retrieve luggage from an airplane’s hull, at the very last stop upon our arrival at Lexington airport and worst of all, while I was sitting in the airplane, waiting to disembark, I was watching it happen. It’s like everything goes into slow motion mode, just like in the movies.

Rhodes Memorial near Rondebosch in memory of Cecil John Rhodes

But, if you live in Kentucky and you know you cannot buy wine over the Internet for delivery in Kentucky (against Kentucky law), and you know the wines you can and want to buy in South Africa is not readily available in the USA, and if it is it is at a far higher price, then you do what I usually do. You ignore the travel writers and ignore the risk of broken bottles and buy it anyway and you pack it as securely as possible in newspaper and bubble wrap in a very sturdy wine box and you hope for the best.

Where goats do roam

One morning when we woke the day was cool and overcast and a misty rain was drizzling down. The original plan was to go to Groot Constantia, not so much for buying wines, because I have always consider their wines overprized, but more to culturally enrich ourselves again with the history of Groot Constantia and to relive a moment we had at the estate many years before, to go and eat delicious scones with strawberry jam and whipped cream, al fresco style, under the old oaks, outside Die Jonkershuis Restaurant.

Nederburg Manor House outside Paarl

Knowing Cape Town weather, if it was drizzling in the northern suburbs it would probably be pouring at Groot Constantia, we decided to rather go to Paarl, which could get very hot even if it was a mild day in Cape Town, and hoping that Paarl and the Boland would be cool that day. After a solid breakfast on the way, to nicely line the stomach so to speak, we went to Nederburg, one of South Africa’s premier wine estates, for a cellar tour. Very interesting and informative! I didn’t do any tasting or buying at Nederburg because their general wines (Paarl Cabernet Sauvignon, Baronne and Pinotage) are available in Lexington and my focus was to only buy wines that are worth taking back home or not available in Lexington. The other reason for not buying anything at the estate was that I purchase several bottles of wine the previous day at a big liquor market in Milnerton, among them a Nederburg 2000 Private Bin R109 (the last one on their shelf), a Cabernet Sauvignon/Merlot blend that was sold in 2010 on Nederburg’s annual, world famous wine auction. Now that was worth bringing back home. Reasonably rare and exclusive. For me in any case!

Left: Laborie Manor House; Center: Fairview Estate's goat house; Right: Grapes at Nederburg 

From Nederburg we went to Fairview Estate, famous for its roaming goats. At this stage my brother-in-law (another wine appreciator) and his wife joined us and while the girls were doing what girls that don’t drink do, the boys had a proper wine tasting and sampling of their many delicious cheeses. I didn’t really care for any of their white wines, although the Sauvignon Blanc Semillon 2008 did go well with some of the cheese. Speaking of cheeses, their cream cheese dusted with Chakalaka spices was excellent. From their reds, their Merlot and the Jakkalsfontein Shiraz 2005 stood out above the rest. It was my kind of Merlot; very woody on the nose and soft and complicated on the tongue. Eventually I bought something blind, a limited release 2007 Caldera. A true Cotes du Rhône style blend. They didn’t have it available for tasting, but I liked the composition. A blend made from 15 barrels of 64 year old Grenache vines, rumored to be the oldest Grenache vines in South Africa, 8 barrels of Mourvédre and 8 barrels of Shiraz. We had lunch at Fairview's Goatshed Restaurant. While M had a delicious, traditional Curried Chicken Pie, I indulged in the Springbok Stir Fried Salad with crusty bread, balsamic vinegar and basil pesto and a few glasses of the Merlot.

From Fairview we drove next door to the Seidelberg Estate with its beautiful views of the valley below and visited the Red Hot Glass shop. By now the morning’s rain from Cape Town has reached Paarl. M and I drove into the town of Paarl and visited Laborie Estate, created in 1691 and one of the oldest wine farms in the Cape, for a photo opportunity of the opstal and more tasting. I bought a bottle of their Merlot/Cabernet Sauvignon blend and a bottle of their Alambic Brandy, which was in 2010 voted the best brandy in the world at an international competition in London. The brandy was really something special. Initally you get the taste of concentrated fruits before the amber liquid warms the throat as it glides down to the stomach.   

In die skadu van Papegaaiberg

‘n Paar dae na ons besoek aan die Paarl het ons in een van my gunsteling dorpe, Stellenbosch, gaan kuier. Stellenbosch was soos altyd kokend warm. Daar het ons die dorp platgeloop, stegie op en straatjie af; die baie ou geboue en argitektuur bewonder; op die dorpsplein deur die Afrika kunsmark gedrentel; by oom Samie se winkel ingeloer en gevind alles is te toeristies (?) en belaglig oorprys; ‘n heerlike gerookte salm, feta and aarbeie slaai saam met ‘n glasie (of twee) yskoue Sauvignon Blanc vir middagete geniet by Jan Cats se bistro op die stoep van die Stellenbosch Hotel terwyl ‘n groep lokale manne met min tande and ‘n vals kitaar almal ge-serenade het vir ‘n paar los muntstukke.

Oom Samie se Winkel in Stellenbosch. 'n Regte nagosie winkel waar 'n mens van die spreekwoordelike naald tot 'n kameelperd kan koop.

Later die middag, na ‘n bietjie van ‘n gesoek, want daar was geen aanwysingsbord nie en ek het nie ‘n kaart by my gehad nie en ek het moed opgegee met Google Maps se stadige responsietyd, het ek my “onwillekeurig” gevind op die pad na een van my gunsteling en een van Suid Afrika se beste wynplase, Jean Engelbrecht se Rust en Vrede. Terwyl M en haar suster in die koelte van nog jong, maar statige akker bome die landgoed besigtig het, het ek in die koel proelokaal hul rooiwyne gesnuif, geproe, gerol en gesluk. Ek het ‘n bottel 2009 Shiraz en ‘n bottel 2008 Cabernet Sauvignon gekoop om my 2002 Cabernet en 2001 Shiraz aan te vul wat ek reeds by die huis het van ‘n vorige besoek aan Suid Afrika in 2003. Laasgenoemde twee bottels sal ek aanstoots moet drink want hulle is nou gereed. Wil nie te lank wag tot hulle dalk oor hul beste is nie. Dis wat oor Thanksgiving met my gebeur het met ‘n bottel 1990 Delheim Grand Reserve. Te lank gewag, ondrinkbaar geword en ek moes dit net so omkeer en in die riool afgooi. Gelukkig was die 1991 Delheim nog drinkbaar maar ook reeds oor sy beste. Daarna het ek besluit ek hou wyn op die langste 10 jaar.

Ongelukkig het ‘n tegnologiese gogga of iets soortgelyk amper al my fotos van Stellenbosch uitgeroei. Iets moes met my kamera gebeur het die volgende dag of daar was dalk swak skakels op my kamera se SD kaart, want toe ek die volgende aand ‘n foto wou neem toe raak 75 van my fotos bedorwe. Dit gebeur soms met jpegs. Dit was baie teleurstellend want ek het ‘n groot versameling fotos geneem van Stellenbosch se deure.

The Hottentots Hollands Mountains as seen from Rhodes Memorial

Crisscrossing the peninsula

Eventually we got to Groot Constantia one day. After a visit to the stately manor house, now a museum, and the wine cellar, we tried out several of their wines. The Sauvignon Blanc and Cabernet Sauvignon were the best of the bunch, of which last-mentioned I bought one bottle, although the Merlot was not too bad either. The rest of their reds where too heavy with too much tannins. We never got to eat the scones with jam because the day we went there it was cloudy and windy and the Jonkershuis Restaurant was fully booked at lunch time. But we drove down to Constantia Village and at the Cattle Baron Grill House we ate of the best beef curry I had in many years.

A collage of Groot Constantia, the mother of all wine estates (the oldest) in South Africa.

Eendag het ons ‘n draai gery Swartland toe, by familie in Malmesbury lekker gaan gesels tot laataand en gesmul aan egte boerekos; gebraaide skaapboud en vele ander lekker bykosses. Op ‘n ander dag het ons eers by Rhodes Memorial gestop en daarna verby Kirstenbosch, oor Constantia Nek na Houtbaai toe. Daar was die Suidooste wind brutaal en ons weggewaai en ons is gou vort Llandudno se kant toe, al langs die see verby die Twaalf Apostels, by Kampsbaai weggedraai oor Kloofnek en met Seinheuwel op vir pragtige vistas oor Kaapstad se middestad, Seepunt, Groenpunt and Robbeneiland.

Snoek op die kole.

Tussendeur al die gereis was daar altyd tyd vir braai. Een aand vis, dan weer gesoute skaapribbes met roosmaryn, 'n ander aand hoender in tamatiesous en Mrs. Ball's Chutney, en nog 'n aand 'n skaapskenkel potjie.

In the end I returned home with 14 bottles of wine, some purchased some I got as presents, and 3 bottles of brandy, among them a 15 year old KWV I got as a present. Most of the wines are young and will need a few years mellowing out in the bottom of my wine rack while some of the older ones currently in the rack will move up for drinking. Among those I brought home: Meerlust, a 2005 and a 2006 Rubicon, a Raka 2006 Quinary, a Rustenberg 2008 John X Merriman and two wines from Thelema, a Shiraz and a Cabernet Sauvignon, and the others I mentioned above.

I would have liked to bring back more wine, but was restricted by tight luggage regulations both from South African Airlines and Delta Airlines here in the USA. The amount you have to pay extra if you go over the weight limits makes it not worth the while to bring more wines.

The rest of the time I did what the travel authors tell you to do: Eat and drink and enjoy while on location.

Part of the collection that made it home.