Monday, May 24, 2010 2:21 PM EDT
Rugby conquers racism - again
Just a few weeks ago, after the sensational news of the murder of white supremacist Eugene Terreblanche, many people were making hysterical predictions of race riots in South Africa.
White supporters of Mr. Terreblanche were vowing revenge, just as the youth wing of South Africa’s ruling party was gaining notoriety for singing “Shoot the Boer” – an apartheid-era anti-colonial song. Racial tensions seemed to be spiraling out of control.
But the catastrophe never happened. There were no race riots, no racial uprising. In fact, just the opposite has happened: South Africa has instead witnessed one of the most dramatic gestures of racial reconciliation that it has seen for many years.
It happened on Saturday when a top rugby playoff match was switched from Pretoria to a stadium in Soweto. The move was required because the stadium in Pretoria was needed for the soccer World Cup. But it meant that the symbol of Afrikaner sports – the Bulls rugby team, the pride of white-dominated Pretoria – would be venturing into the heart of the country’s biggest township, the scruffy sprawling city of shacks and matchbox houses where blacks were forcibly relegated in the apartheid era.
Northern Bulls' supporters arrive to attend the Super14 Rugby Union semifinal between Northern Bulls and Canterbury Crusaders at Soweto's Orlando Stadium in Johannesburg, South Africa on May 22, 2010. Many applauded the decision to move a Super 14 rugby union championship semi-final to the historic black township of Soweto. Traditionally white rugby has never held a major match in one of the townships where blacks were confined under segregationist apartheid rule, which ended with the first all-race elections in 1994.The Bulls had to find a new home for the match because their stadium in Pretoria is being readied for the football World Cup, which kicks off on June 11.
Many whites – especially the Afrikaners who controlled South Africa during apartheid – have never been in Soweto. The townships were perceived (inaccurately) as highly dangerous, crime-ridden, and hostile to whites. Even when busloads of foreign tourists came into Soweto to visit the museums and historic sites in recent years, many Afrikaners were reluctant to visit the township, either from fear or from ignorance or from decades of habit.
Blacks, too, were traditionally wary of rugby fans. In the old divided South Africa, soccer was the black sport, and rugby was the white sport, and rarely did the twain ever meet.
The Bulls, however, have a fanatical following. Their stadium in Pretoria is always filled with 50,000 screaming supporters – almost entirely Afrikaner. And they will follow the Bulls anywhere – even into a township.
Nobody quite knew what would happen when the Bulls and their fans arrived in Soweto. One columnist said it was the biggest invasion of white people into Soweto since 1976 – when the invaders were truckloads of heavily armed policemen who cracked down on the famous Soweto uprising.
But if there was any nervousness or trepidation among the first-time visitors, it quickly vanished. The event was extraordinary. Thousands of Afrikaners – waving blue flags and wearing the blue uniforms of their beloved Bulls – strolled through the streets of Orlando (a neighborhood of Soweto) to reach the stadium. They were greeted, astonishingly, by thousands of cheering blacks who lined the streets to welcome the visitors.
The whites stopped for a drink at the local shebeens (watering holes). They discovered that the natives were friendly, cheerful, sports-mad, and happy to see them. There were scenes of blacks and whites hugging, shaking hands, laughing together and drinking together. Many blacks even took photos of the Bulls fans on their cellphones – as a memento of the rare day when the Afrikaners came to visit.
The match was a huge success. Blacks from Soweto attended the match, alongside the Afrikaners. Everyone got along famously. No violence was recorded (aside from the ritualized violence on the rugby pitch, of course).
It was all very reminiscent of that historic rugby match in 1995, just a year after the collapse of apartheid, when Nelson Mandela persuaded blacks and whites to celebrate together as South Africa won a stirring victory at the rugby World Cup – an event memorialized in the Hollywood movie Invictus last year.
And top it all off, the Bulls won the playoff match in Soweto, defeating a team from New Zealand. It means that the Bulls will advance to the championship game, to be held this Saturday. Where? In Soweto, of course.
Archbishop Desmond Tutu, the veteran anti-apartheid leader, said it was one of the most important days in the history of South African sports. “Not too long ago, Pretorians may have choked on their mustaches at the thought of skopping pale toe (kicking for the posts) at Orlando Stadium in Soweto,” he said. “And the arrival of these giant Bulls from the north would have sent Sowetans ducking for cover.”
The decision to play such a high-profile rugby match in Soweto “should be applauded by all South Africans,” he said.
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Wednesday, April 28, 2010 12:11 AM EDT
Mysteries of the African road
A foreign correspondent should never complain about his travels. His life is too privileged to justify any whining.
So when I make a few humble observations from my latest journeys in four African countries over the past few weeks, please don’t read this as a complaint. Read it as the wide-eyed wonder of someone who can’t help marvelling sometimes.
Here are some of the things that make me go “hmmm.”
1) Why are Sudan’s airports so chaotic? This is a country with vast oil wealth, a large population and a booming construction sector. Yet its domestic airports have no computers, no signboards, no order and no information. Passengers push and shove in a sweaty mass at each check-in counter. The queue is an alien concept. The airline staff do everything painstakingly by hand. At the departure lounge, chaos reigns, with nobody clear on which airplane is going where.
2) Why are the roads still so dreadful in Kenya, despite its fast-growing tourism industry and a stronger economy than many other African countries? On a recent trip to a rural community in Kenya during the rainy season, I ended up on a farm tractor for the final few kilometres of my journey. Cars could not navigate the muddy trail into the community. Shopkeepers said they couldn’t even get supplies because of the bad roads. And this was within 40 kilometres of Nairobi, the capital.
3) Why are there still no taxis in Luanda? The Angolan economy is booming, and oil wealth is flowing. Luanda is clogged with luxury four-wheel-drive behemoths. Yet the simple concept of a taxi service is virtually non-existent in the Angolan capital. Any search for a taxi – at a hotel or on the street – is a task of hours of work. One small taxi company exists, but it is almost impossible to track down an available car. I found myself stranded more than once. Those who own vehicles apparently prefer to be hired for weeks or months at a time. A mere $10 drive is of little interest to car-owners in the world’s most expensive city. Yet there are millions of impoverished people in Luanda who would happily work in the taxi business, and thousands of visitors and locals who could benefit from a taxi service. Why does the government not encourage the creation of a few taxi companies?
4) Why are passengers allowed to wander freely around the tarmac of Nairobi’s main international airport? I’ve had this experience several times now. When it’s time to board a plane, passengers are disgorged from the terminal building onto the tarmac without any attempt to guide them to the right airplane. The vast tarmac is filled with planes, and passengers disappear into the horizon, searching for a barely seen airplane. All you can do is try to follow the right person to the right plane. Isn’t this a security risk, if nothing else?
5) Who would send a car from Russia to the broiling heat of southern Sudan? The city of Juba is filled with ancient second-hand cars from all over the world, usually shipped via Dubai. Some were originally built for the Russian market. So motorists end up with a sedan that features a heater, but no air-conditioning. Not very useful in the 45-degree heat of Sudan’s southern deserts.
6) Why are the traffic lights always broken in Johannesburg? I can’t resist adding this question. Johannesburg’s traffic lights, known here as “robots” for some reason, routinely stop working because of rain or many other unexplained factors. This creates a unique challenge: negotiating a dangerous turn across six lanes of traffic without benefit of a traffic light or any external assistance. Little wonder that Johannesburg has one of the highest accident rates in the world. And yet another mystery of the African road.
Monday, March 29, 2010 3:52 PM EDT
A plague of destruction in Goma
With all the multitude of Biblical-proportioned problems in eastern Congo – from war and poverty to refugees and sexual violence – why would anyone want to create new problems by demolishing houses?
Yet that’s exactly what the mayor of Goma has been energetically doing. Convinced that his streets needed to be wider and more orderly, he dispatched gangs of thugs to demolish hundreds of houses.
With a population of a million people, Goma is the biggest city in eastern Congo, and the most strategically important, serving as the base for the United Nations peacekeepers here. The city is plagued by poverty, violence, shortages of electricity and water, and even the risk of catastrophic volcanic eruptions – but the city government decided that its priority was the traffic jams on its narrow streets. So it ordered the demolition teams into action.
Metha Bendera, a 63-year-old civil servant, was proud of his $40,000 house on Goma’s main street. He rented space in front of his house to five small shopkeepers, using the rent to pay for his children’s university tuition.
The mayor of Goma has ordered the demolition of buildings along one of the city's main roads, forcing people to rebuild their homes and businesses. (Photo: Erin Conway-Smith)
And then, one day last month, a truck full of dozens of young men arrived at his house, carrying hammers and other equipment. He says they called themselves “rastas” – the nickname of a notorious local gang.
There was no advance warning. “I saw them coming and all they said was, ‘We are destroying, we are destroying,’” Mr. Bendera told me.
He rushed to grab his possessions and carry them to safety as the demolition began, but he wasn’t able to save everything. Within two days, his home was gone, along with the five shops in front of it, and many other houses on the street.
“I’m in mourning for having lost my house,” he told me. “It’s like the death of a person. They have wronged me. The land was given to me by the authorities, they authorized me to build here, they gave me a deed to prove it is mine – and they are the same ones who came here to destroy it.”
He gestured up and down the street. “The whole street is being demolished,” he said.
He denies the official claim that the houses on the street were “disorderly.” He says he built his house within six metres of the street, because that’s what the authorities told him to do in 1988 when he built. Now the government has announced that every house must be 14 metres from the street.
With his home in ruins, Mr. Bendera is struggling to rebuild his house, further back from the street.
The government has offered no compensation for his loss. “They haven’t even come here to apologize for what they did,” he says bitterly.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010 7:38 PM EDT
Congo’s roads of ruin
Until now, I would have given Afghanistan the gold medal in the competition for the world’s most terrible roads.
I remember a road over a mountain in the Hindu Kush that took two days to negotiate. One wooden bridge over a deep gorge was so dangerously rickety that I tiptoed across it, then watched in amazement as my driver managed to steer our pick-up truck over it.
But if Afghanistan has always owned the podium in the pothole slalom, now there is a challenger to its supremacy: the Democratic Republic of Congo.
In my recent visit to eastern Congo, I had the misfortune of discovering some of the most appalling roads that I’ve ever had to endure. These were not really roads at all. These were scars in the bush, just trails or foot paths, where cars are hardly ever seen. To navigate the roads, our vehicle had to scrape across volcanic rock and crawl through miniature lakes.
Erin Conway-Smith
A typically rough stretch of road in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, between Kitchanga and Goma.
The roads were so bad that a 15-kilometre stretch from Kitchanga to Mweso took a full hour and a quarter to traverse. That’s an average speed of barely 12 kilometres an hour.
This is not just an idle complaint by a journalist. The horrendous roads are a key reason for many of Congo’s problems. Because of the bad roads, it’s difficult for UN peacekeepers to maintain stability in the region. In fact the UN often prefers to hire helicopters or airplanes to get around the eastern Congo because the roads are so impenetrable. Without the peacekeepers, there is no stability in Congo, and without stability there can be no peace or progress.
The terrible roads are also a serious obstacle to economic development. Trapped by bad roads, most of Congo’s people are virtually inaccessible in their villages and farms. Trade is severely hampered, supplies can’t be distributed, businesses can’t survive, and economic growth is almost impossible.
The contrast with neighboring Rwanda could not be more stark. When you cross the border from Congo to Rwanda, suddenly the roads are a dream. You discover a series of beautifully paved, smooth highways, whisking motorists all the way from the Congo border to the capital, Kigali.
Roads and other infrastructure projects have been a top priority for Rwanda’s government in recent years. This is a government with relentless attention to detail. Kigali is a spotlessly clean city, considered a model for Africa.
Is it any coincidence that Rwanda’s economy has been one of the fastest-growing in Africa, while Congo continues to be one of the poorest in Africa? Without good roads, a country is doomed to stagnation.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010 8:07 AM EST
The politics of genocide in Rwanda
With an election looming in a few months, Rwanda’s authoritarian government has made an astounding claim: democracy leads directly to genocide.
The claim is made in an article this week by Jean Paul Kimonyo, an advisor in the office of Rwandan President Paul Kagame. He argues that Rwanda has only had “plural politics” for two brief periods in its history, and both times it “led to mass killings.”
He also makes the sweeping statement that “political parties and independent media” were a big reason for the killings. All parties and all media, in his view, are just as dangerous as the hate-spewing radio stations and politicians that fuelled the 1994 Rwandan genocide.
His conclusion, apparently, is that Rwanda needs to suppress its political parties, restrict its independent media and tightly control its elections, even though it’s been 16 years since the genocide. Democracy – or “confrontational politics,” as he prefers to call it – would “almost certainly lead to renewed violence.”
This is a very convenient argument for those who are currently in power. But what about everyone else? Opposition political parties are already finding it almost impossible to get registered for the August election. Independent journalists are harassed and threatened.
In Kigali recently, I had an interesting chat with Didas Gasana, editor-in-chief of an independent weekly newspaper called Umuseso – one of the few sources of independent information in Rwanda.
Mr. Gasana (pictured below) has been a target of the authorities for years. Twice he has been prosecuted for “criminal defamation” for his investigative articles about corruption and wrongdoing. He was forced into exile for a year in 2005 after police warned that he could be killed for what he was reporting in his newspaper. A government media council has recommended the banning of his newspaper. Even now he gets anonymous calls from people accusing him of working for “negative forces” – code words for the armed rebels in neighbouring Congo, and a veiled threat that he could be killed.
Didas Gasana, editor in chief of Umuseso, the main independent newspaper in Rwanda, on the street outside his office in Kigali.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010 3:10 PM EST
Zuma's polygamy undermines AIDS fight
On a recent drive through Soweto, the sprawling township that formed the heart of the anti-apartheid struggle, I was impressed by the ambition and honesty of the latest campaign by South Africa’s AIDS activists.
The billboards and posters on Soweto’s streets are blunt and unflinching. A real man, they say, is someone who “chooses a single partner” – not someone who defines himself “by the number of women he can have.”
It’s a rare campaign that directly addresses men, directly grapples with how men define their self-worth, and directly tackles one of the biggest factors in the AIDS epidemic: what the experts call “multiple concurrent partnerships” - the tendency of many men to have several sexual partners at the same time.
Too bad the entire campaign is being undermined by the most powerful of all the South African men: President Jacob Zuma.
Mr. Zuma is the most famous polygamist in a country that still allows polygamy. Last week he donned leopard skins and white sneakers to perform a Zulu dance as he celebrated a traditional Zulu wedding to his third wife.
Another wedding to a fourth wife is already in the planning stages. He is already the father of 19 children by at least six women.
The president has no embarrassment about his polygamy. His office has even issued a bizarre “press statement” about the wives, explaining that the Presidency has a “spousal office” to give administrative support to the three wives. The statement declared that Mr. Zuma has the “prerogative” to be accompanied by all three of his wives at official functions or engagements if he chooses. It also outlined the “areas of interest” of each of the three wives, as if they were cabinet portfolios.
Polls suggest that polygamy is not supported by the majority of voters here. But many South Africans strongly defend the practice, calling it a fundamental element in the culture of the Zulu nation.
In fact, Mr. Zuma’s public displays of attachment to Zulu tradition are one of the key reasons for his popularity among ordinary South Africans. He uses his Zulu rituals as proof that he is a man of the people – unlike his aloof predecessor, Thabo Mbeki. And in strictly political terms, the strategy is succeeding: the latest polls give the president a 58 per cent approval rating, while only 23 per cent of South Africans disapprove of him.
But while his polygamy might be a useful political advantage, it weakens and contradicts all of the work that Mr. Zuma has done in the fight against AIDS, which causes more deaths in South Africa than in any other country in the world.
In some ways, Mr. Zuma’s policies on AIDS and HIV have actually been fairly progressive. He has announced an ambitious plan to provide more anti-retroviral drugs to those with AIDS. He is trying to expand HIV testing, so that more people know their status. He has made all the right promises on HIV policy -- a big change from the days of his rape trial in 2006, when he famously testified that he took a shower after having sex with an HIV-positive woman to protect himself from the virus.
But all of this good work is being undermined by his polygamy, which sends exactly the wrong message. One of South Africa’s most astute political commentators, Justice Malala, put it this way: “No serious discussion has taken place about what example the captain of the ship continues to set for the nation in promoting concurrent, multiple sexual partnerships – the chief driver of the spread of HIV.”
He described polygamy as “dangerous, outdated and sexist.” The only reason that it remains, he said, is “because it serves men.”
Tuesday, December 15, 2009 8:10 AM EST
A bodyguard’s view of Nelson Mandela
JOHANNESBURG – Everyone knows the legend of Nelson Mandela: the man who saved South Africa from civil war, the man who is regarded today as a living saint, who endured 27 years in prison and emerged with forgiveness in his heart.
But what kind of man was this living saint for those who worked nearest to him – the humble bodyguards who spent countless hours at his side?
I got a glimpse into the human side of this legend from someone I met while I was researching a story on Invictus, the new Clint Eastwood movie about Mr. Mandela’s strategy of reconciliation during the Rugby World Cup in 1995.
The glimpse came from a man named Etienne van Eck, a former policeman who had served as a bodyguard to Mr. Mandela from 1994 to 1999.
Globe reporter Ian Bailey had spotted him at an Invictus screening in Vancouver last week, and put me in contact with him. The former bodyguard, now living in Canada, sent me a long and eloquent e-mail, and we later talked by telephone. He convinced me that the Mandela legend was equally authentic among those who saw him at close quarters every day.
Mr. van Eck remembers the fears of his own people – the Afrikaners – when apartheid ended and the black majority won power. Many were ready to flee. He remembers how Mr. Mandela calmed those fears and convinced the Afrikaners that they had an important role in the post-apartheid nation. He was “the most remarkable leader of our time,” Mr. van Eck says. “To say that I treasure my time with President Mandela as a profound privilege would be to understate how I cherish that experience and the memories of my time with him. He changed me.”
He told me the story of how Mr. Mandela had amalgamated two mutually suspicious groups of bodyguards – blacks from the African National Congress and whites from the former apartheid police force – into an effective unit that learned to overcome their mistrust and work closely together. “We grew to be friends, teaching one another important lessons,” he said.
He told me how Mr. Mandela had toiled to learn every nuance of Afrikaans, a language he had studied from the warders at Robben Island prison, even though it was the language of his oppressors. Once he was planning to address a group of farmers in South Africa and wanted to speak to them in Afrikaans, their language. He asked Mr. van Eck for help in translating his speech into Afrikaans. But when speaking to the farmers, he chose to address them with the most respectful and formal Afrikaans term for “you” – even though his bodyguard had suggested that a less formal word would have been acceptable.
On another day, Mr. Mandela was attending the wedding of Francois Pienaar, captain of the Springboks rugby team. He left his home too early, so Mr. van Eck quietly detoured and took a longer route to the wedding to ensure that they would arrive on time. “The president always stressed punctuality,” the bodyguard said. “It was all about respect for one’s host.”
Nine years ago, shortly after they arrived in Vancouver, Mr. van Eck suffered the death of his wife. He received a phone call of sympathy and condolences from Mr. Mandela. “I know you have the courage to turn tragedy into triumph,” he told his former bodyguard.
Reflecting on those words today, Mr. van Eck mused: “The world knows he has done exactly that.”
Sunday, December 6, 2009 8:06 PM EST
Sounds of revelling soccer fans will drown out naysayers
Returning to my hotel on Friday night after the World Cup draw, I found myself mired in a massive traffic jam in the middle of Cape Town – and got a glimpse of how South Africa could triumph as host of the global soccer jamboree next year.
The bumper-to-bumper traffic snarl was a result of the overwhelming success of South Africa’s first “Fan Fest” – the kickoff of the free outdoor parties where soccer fans will gather to watch World Cup events on giant television screens.
Cape Town had organized the party on several blocks of Long Street, a famed avenue of bars and restaurants in the downtown core. It expected 15,000 fans on Friday night for the musical show during the draw, but more than 30,000 showed up, forcing police to turn some away – and leaving me driving in circles as I tried to find a way through the vast mob at 10 p.m.
So enthusiastic were the fans that they even cheered for the politicians, a rare event in cynical South Africa. “Danny, Danny,” they cried, chanting the name of Danny Jordaan, head of the country’s World Cup organizing committee.
By 2 a.m., long after the music was over, the fans were still partying, still blowing loudly on their vuvuzelas, the noisy plastic trumpets that have infuriated the European and Asian officials. Finally, the police had to order everyone to clear the site.
The naysayers and the doom-and-gloomers, especially in the British press, have been obsessing over South Africa’s high crime rate as a harbinger of disasters to come. But I have a hunch that this World Cup will be remembered, instead, for the spirit and vibrancy of the African soccer fans who will fill up the street parties, the Fan Fests, the outdoor screenings and the parks and plazas.
Monday, November 30, 2009 10:32 PM EST
Why Ethiopians remain hungry
A casual visitor to Ethiopia’s capital city is quickly impressed by the smooth new roads and gleaming skyscrapers these days.
Sure, it has shacks and slums, but in comparison to most of Africa’s sprawling chaotic capitals, Addis Ababa seems to be a neat and tidy city, relatively well-organized and controlled.
Ethiopia’s new partnership with China is paying big dividends for the government. Not only is it providing the Chinese technology that allows Ethiopian authorities to block websites and spy on e-mails and cellphones, but it is also producing some of the smoothest new roads in Africa. Thanks to the Chinese-built highways, motorists can zip around Addis Ababa in relative ease, with few of the traffic jams that plague other African cities.
This is the city that the government wants you to see. But if you take a moment to ponder why the Ethiopian capital is so neat and tidy, you’ll understand why this country is still one of the poorest in the world.
Monday, November 23, 2009 10:03 PM EST
Winners and losers in Africa
Windhoek - Namibia’s election is still four days away, but the ruling party is already boasting of victory.
There are no qualms about fairness in this election. The results of the advance voting (by diplomats and seafarers) have already been released in the national media. Unsurprisingly, the ruling SWAPO party has a huge lead in the votes, as it always does.
Instead of keeping the advance votes confidential until the end of voting day, the government happily released the early numbers, and the ruling party then exploited those results in its campaigning.
“You must support the winner,” a SWAPO vice-president told a campaign rally a few days ago, citing the early results. “Do not waste your vote on losers.”
The release of the advance votes is yet another state-assisted advantage for SWAPO, the former liberation movement that has won landslide victories in every election since Namibia’s independence in 1990.
Television coverage is slanted heavily in favor of SWAPO. The main national broadcaster, the Namibian Broadcasting Corp., gave an overwhelming 82 per cent of its political news coverage to SWAPO in the first week of this month, according to an independent survey.
The next highest party was given a meagre 4 per cent of the television coverage, while the main opposition party got no coverage at all.
The opposition fared no better on the streets. When a small group of activists from the biggest opposition party tried to visit voters in a northern town this month, they were surrounded by 200 ruling-party supporters, including three hammer-wielding men. The opposition members were threatened with violence for entering the town “without a mandate.”
The election in Namibia this week, like most other African elections, is a foregone conclusion. Opposition parties do exist, but they don’t stand a chance.
With a few honorable exceptions (Ghana among them), this is still the normal situation in most African countries. The advantages of incumbency are massive. Ruling parties tend to stay in power, year after year, even decade after decade.
Sometimes, in conversations with Africans, I make an analogy between democracy and mobile phones. If you travel anywhere in Africa, the best cellphone service is provided in countries where there is lively competition among several private mobile phone companies. The worst is in countries where a state-owned company has a monopoly on cellphone services, or where there is weak competition between two companies.
Democracy is the same. Just like mobile phone consumers, African voters get better service from their government when there is vibrant competition among several strong parties, with power rotating fairly from party to party. Unfortunately it’s still a rare phenomenon, but perhaps it will change when Africans demand the same level of service from their governments that they expect from their mobile phone companies.
Africa Diary Contributors
Geoffrey York
Geoffrey York is The Globe and Mail's Africa correspondent. He has been a foreign correspondent for the newspaper since 1994, including seven years as the Moscow bureau chief and seven years as the Beijing bureau chief. He is a veteran war correspondent who has covered war zones since 1991 in places such as Somalia, Sudan, Chechnya, Iraq and Afghanistan. He is the author of three books including two books on aboriginal issues in Canada. He has received several journalistic awards, including a National Magazine Award and nominations for the National Newspaper Awards.
