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I had the opportunity to visit the District Six Museum in Cape Town and tour it with a former resident. The museum is located in an old Methodist church that survived the destruction of the area. It’s odd because all around you can see the modern skyline of Capetown and nice cafes, but the scars of apartheid still exist in dilapidated buildings and lifeless vacant spaces in the midst of an otherwise bustling city. District Six was one a thriving melting pot, a community where everyone knew their neighbors. Generations had lived there together.

The vacant lots are the remnants of the forced removals which took place in District Six in the 1970s.

The area known as District Six got its name from having been the Sixth Municipal District of Cape Town in 1867. Its earlier unofficial name was Kanaldorp, a name supposedly derived from the the series of canals running across the city, some of which had to be crossed in order to reach the District (kanaal is the Afrikaans for ‘canal’.) Over time, some people called District Six Kanaladorp, (kanala being derived from the Indonesian word for ‘please’), and its likely that the name stems from a fusion of the two meanings.

So what happened in District 6? We have to go way back to understand the not-so-far-back.

Since the 17th century, European colonists coveted South Africa. The Cape of Good Hope, the Southwestern tip of Africa, was once the starting point for ambitious sailors with dreams of arriving in the mysterious East. South Africa was successively colonized by the Dutch in the 17th century and by the British in the 19th century. The discovery of diamonds in the 1860s in Kimberley and the discovery of gold in the 1880s in Witwatersrand and Johannesburg only made the country more attractive to colonists.

People from around the world found a home in the area. District Six, one of the main municipal districts in the center of Cape Town, housed diverse people from Dutch colonies in India, Indonesia and Malaysia. Many Muslims also dwelled in Cape Town, and traveled from Indonesia, the country with the largest Muslim population in the world.

The wealth of religious diversity developed into inclusiveness rather than hostility, said former resident Noor Ebrahim. Ebrahim grew up in District Six and went to a mosque in northern District Six with area families as a child. Today, he works in the District Six Museum and still goes to the mosque from his childhood every day.

“We loved each other in District Six,” Ebrahim said. “When my Christmas comes, they call it Eid. All my friends, Jewish, African, Christian, Hindu, you name it, they would put on a fez, and they would go with me to my mosque. I think that made District Six such a great place.”

The 1950s marked the era of apartheid in South Africa. The government began to racially classify all residents in the country. South Africans were declared white, black, Asian or colored. Most residents of District Six came to be classified as so-called colored or mixed blood. Legislation (including the Population Registration Act, Bantu Education Act, Group Areas Act and Immorality/Mixed Marriages Act) was designed to segregate Europeans from non-Europeans.

“Within that apartheid framework, they thought society would be contaminated by the colored people,” said Joe Schaffers, former resident of District Six and education officer at the District Six Museum.

Classification was arbitrarily based on appearance and judged by government officials. Herman, for instance, spoke Afrikaans and was not initially classified under the system. In 1951, when he was eight years old, he went to have what was called “the pencil test.”

Officials used the test as a way to determine a person’s racial grouping. If a pencil could be run through a person’s hair with ease, a person would be declared white. If the pencil became stuck in a person’s hair, they would be called colored or African. Herman and his parents were categorized as “Cape Colors” as a result of the test.

Although many of Herman’s family members were labeled as colored, his uncle married a white woman and was classified as white. “Many of us rejected that,” Herman said.  “They denied their own roots and took on the identity of oppressor, which was the white people. In my family on both sides, there were divisions and people who never really met.”

The subjective nature of the racial groups allowed some people to manipulate the system. Many people took the pencil test in an attempt to be labeled as white since the apartheid system afforded special privilege to this group. White South Africans were given better jobs, education and housing. Some of the White South Africans admitted to looking to the US as a template for their racial discrimination.

The apartheid government took further steps to divide the population following this period of population classification. On Feb. 11, 1966, the government declared District Six to be a white-only residential area under the Group Areas Act. Around 60,000 non-white residents of District Six were forced to move to townships outside of the city center. Residents were moved into the townships according to their racial classification. These townships were located in the dry and dusty Cape Flats area outside the city and often had poor infrastructure.

As a result of these acts, residents could only go to schools, churches and other public spaces reserved for their racial groups. Skin color and bloodlines determined the boundaries of a person’s life. If a white man wanted to visit his wife who had been classified as “colored,” he had to apply for a permit to even enter a colored township, said Schaffers.

Most of District Six’s residents were classified as colored under apartheid. As a result, most residents were affected by the forced removal. Apartments, churches and shops were leveled to the ground in the years after the Group Areas Act. New buildings such as the Cape Peninsula University of Technology were built upon the destroyed buildings, including Ebrahim’s home.

“If you owned property in these areas, they’d ask you to move and offer you a place of lower value,” Schaffers said. “If you refused, they would take this property and offer you an even worse offer than the first one.”

Once people were relocated to the Cape Flats, the government failed to sufficiently support the area’s explosive population. Basic necessities like electricity could be scarce, and the townships breed poverty and gangsters.

“It’s not meeting the needs of people living there,” said Chrischené Julius, manager of Collections in District Six Museum. “It becomes a space that really becomes a symbol as what the Group Areas Act actually achieved.”

Society has gradually improved since apartheid ended in 1994. The current government has pledged to create access to good education and jobs for all people, but change is never swift or complete.

The District Six Museum was established in December 1994 to preserve the memory of District Six and to remember the lessons of segregation. The museum plays a role of education and shows people that the city center is a public space for all people, not a specific race. They focus on people’s stories and memories so the museum is more like a memory box than traditional history museum. Sometimes memory contradicts records, but they allow the memory to remain intact as it is remembered by different residents even if those memories contradict each other. The museum keeps alive the stories and struggles of the residents who lives with the racism and corruption of apartheid.

“The apartheid racism is not something that only white people show towards black people” Julius said. “It’s part of our culture.”

Although the government has issued the Land Restitution Act as a measure to allow former residents to move back into the area, execution is still lagging. Only 200 residents have been able to live back of the 60,000 removed. Many former residents have died, complicating how ownership of the land should be determined. Living expenses in the area in the area are also high, and many who have lived in the Cape Flat area for decades cannot afford to move back to their former lands. The act also fails to address where current residents should relocate and how land covered by new buildings can be allocated to former residents. There are still 1,260 validated claims to land in the area.

Many of the residents feel like they cannot reconcile yet with the government that took them from their homes and neighbors because restitution has not been made. They say it’s an unfair to talk to them about reconciling when the wrongs have not yet been made right. The pain and loss is still very real, so they feel there can it be peace and mercy without any justice. Imagine having so much taken from you, then being asked to just forget it and live in your new, more difficult reality, but also being expected to forgive and let the loss go for the sake of peace. It’s an unfair ask and not one someone who has ever experienced something similar would ever ask. Those kinds of desires and demands on others come from a place of privilege that prioritizes its own peace and well-being over justice.

Learning about District 6 did not feel very foreign to me, as horrible as what happened here was. I grew up learning about forced removal of the Cherokee Nation in my native South Carolina, and many other forced removals of native peoples across the US, so their land could be redeveloped. I’ve learned about redlining and ghettos and the Jim Crow south. We have our own culture of racism, and when we say we are in a post-racist society, we aren’t being honest with our past or our present. We haven’t righted many of the wrongs our society is guilty of, even if we ourselves had no direct role in it. I think we can acknowledge the ways we have improved and progressed, but as in District 6 there is still work to be done. Peace and mercy are important but we need to learn and acknowledge the truth and work for justice if we really believe in reconciliation.

READ MORE SABBATICAL NOTES:

Safari

Langa Township

Johannesburg and Soweto

Robben Island

Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden

Hagia Sophia

Instanbul: Old City

I had the opportunity to go on a safari drive in Kruger National Park which has always been a dream of mine. I remember watching the nature shows as a child of lions in Africa hunting zebra and springbok. I love all those David Attenborough narrated shows about the wilds of Africa. 

I always liked the big cats and enjoyed watching them hunt. I found myself pulling for the lion or cheetah to win in its chase of the gazelle or battle with the wildebeest. I wonder why that is. Why did I side with the predator? Was I training myself early on to be the predator and not the prey? Did I subconsciously identify myself with the top of the social food chain? I’m not sure, but I pulled for the lions. I more closely identified with the narrative of the predator. 

So I was hoping to see a big cat take down an animal on my safari drive. Now, I knew this was unlikely for several reasons. A big cat probably won’t hunt with us watching and we probably won’t be out on safari during prime hunting times, but I still hoped. 

It’s interesting to see a big cat stalk and take down prey. The blood and gore wouldn’t bother me. The death wouldn’t either. I’ve been around death. I even hunt. But I discovered there is something that would bother me.

As I went on safari I saw animals living their lives. I saw family units of animals and followed them around. Sometimes you almost get a sense of knowing them if you watch them enough. If I came back the next day and saw that same family of zebras and suddenly saw a lion stalking the youngest, I wouldn’t want that lion to get a meal. It’d be hard not to shout out a warning. 

Why? I admit wanting to see a lion kill a zebra, so why not this zebra. It’s because I know this zebra now. We’ve met. It’s not a faceless zebra or gazelle. I’ve experienced it. 

I’ve found the same to be true when watching nature shows. When the narrative is told from a zebra or wildebeest’s perspective I don’t want it to lose a member of its family. When to documentary is told from the lion’s perspective I don’t want it to go hungry. 

So much of our opinions and desires are based on the narratives we hear and the perspectives through which we encounter the world. Too often, we limit ourselves to very narrow narratives and perspectives: ones that are comfortable and familiar to us. 

As part of my larger sabbatical process I participated in a six-month learning journey with reconciliation communities in the US and across the UK. As part of that, I learned more about counter narratives. 

Counter-narrative refers to the narratives that arise from the vantage point of those who have been historically marginalized. The idea of “counter-“ itself implies a space of resistance against traditional domination. A counter-narrative goes beyond the notion that those in relative positions of power can just tell the stories of those in the margins. Instead, these must come from the margins, from the perspectives and voices of those individuals. A counter-narrative thus goes beyond the telling of stories that take place in the margins. The effect of a counter-narrative is to empower and give agency to those communities. By choosing their own words and telling their own stories, members of marginalized communities provide alternative points of view, helping to create complex narratives truly presenting their realities.

I’ve been more intentional about opening myself up to counter narratives by reading diverse authors and listening to communities different from my own. One of my goals with Engage Stories at Derry is to eventually bring in storytellers who can share counter narratives with us from their own experiences so we can create a space to hear them. 

I want to be more intentional about hearing a variety of narratives about the world and the things happening around me. I want to make a space for the counter narratives. I want to really question if I’m only considering one dominant perspective when thinking about a situation, conflict, or problem. 

I think this is extremely important for any reconciling community. If we aren’t making space for the counter narratives and we aren’t listening to diverse perspectives then we can’t really do the work of reconciliation. 

I can still appreciate and love big cats. I can still want them to hunt and kill and eat. But at the same time I can appreciate the beauty and majesty of the zebra and antelope and hope they find ways to survive and thrive. I know both can’t always happen, and I know my experience may color how I feel in any specific situation. But I think it’s important to understand both animals and their perspectives and struggles as I consider the larger picture of life in the wild.

The same is true for life in Hershey. Life will not be perfect. Someone will get a job and someone won’t. Someone will win and someone will lose. But I hope I can do a better job listening and making space for the variety of perspectives and experiences that exist here so perhaps we can find better ways to live together and with God. 

READ MORE SABBATICAL NOTES:

Langa Township

Johannesburg and Soweto

Cape Town #2: Robben Island

Cape Town #1: Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden

Istanbul #2: Hagia Sophia

Instanbul: Old City

Posted in Uncategorized on October 9, 2022 by Susan George. Edit

I visited Langa township in Cape Town with a local resident who showed me around, introduced me to people, and told me stories. I entered into small rooms that served as a home for a whole family, saw the businesses run out of small shipping containers, and the old courthouse pass office that regulated the movements of the residents.

 I’ve heard about the townships in South Africa since high school when I read Cry, the Beloved Country, but I haven’t taken the time to really understand them or why such disparity exists in different parts of the same city. But it’s a reality in every city from Cape Town to Chicago.

I admit feeling a little odd touring a township. It feels a bit like poverty tourism, which is uncomfortable. I felt a little better being with a resident and learning from him, but there’s still a voyeuristic feeling to it. I wanted to learn and be more aware of Langa’s history and present. I wanted to see them and not just skip over these important areas of Cape Town in favor of the typical tourist locations. At times it was upsetting to see how some people had to live, and yet there was joy in the community. I saw little boys playing with cars they made out of milk cartons and caps. I saw women preparing sheep heads to sell for meat, and women braiding each other’s hair in small communal spaces. My guide, Ludumo, told me how everything was really communal there. People share cooking spaces, bath houses, lines for drying clothes and everything else.  They work together and rely on each other because they need to. There’s no other way.  The reality is that is the truth for us all but we choose not to live into it.

A township is an informal settlement and a type of racially divided suburb within South Africa’s big cities, such as Cape Town, Johannesburg, Durban, Port Elizabeth and Pretoria. I’ll be visiting Soweto township in Johannesburg later in the trip.

During apartheid and following the signing of the Group Areas Act of 1950, non-whites were forcibly removed from the center of Cape Town (everything around Table Mountain). They were moved to specific residential areas which had each been assigned to different ethnic groups.

However, Pass Laws forced men to leave their families at home and to go back to the cities to work. This led to men living in hostels in townships on the outskirts, and working in places such as factories, mines and other similar manual industries. They were homed in large dormitories with shared living facilities. I saw some of these hostels: concrete rows of rooms probably smaller than many of our bathrooms. When the Pass Laws were repealed, the wives and children were permitted to join the men, creating very cramped living conditions. This led to shacks popping up where suddenly the dormitories could no longer house the sheer number of people. As more and more people arrived, it quickly evolved into a township.

Langa is considered one of the safest of the Cape Town townships. As we walked the streets Ludumo seemed to know everyone. I was invited into homes and greeted by the residents. Langa is also one of the most manageable to visit in terms of size (just 1.5km square) whereas two of the other main townships, Gugulethu and Khayelitsha, are huge and take a lot longer to explore. The name ‘Langa’ derives from the name Langalibalele, a famous chief who was kept in prison on Robben Island for protesting against the government. There’s a street named after him within the township.

Around 70,000 people live peacefully in the township, most of whom belong to the Xhosa tribe. It was really interesting to hear some of them speak their click language. I tried it and it’s really hard. There are other African nationalities living there too, such as Somalians, Zimbabweans, Nigerians and Congolese. There are different clans there as well who have their own cultures and dress codes but who also speak Xhosa.

Langa township was established in 1923, making it the oldest in Cape Town. As mentioned, originally it was just men living here in dormitory style hostels and with black policeman patrolling. The men came from all over the country, but would tend to go home during Christmas and Easter for several weeks at a time. This led to many babies being born in September.

From Langa, the men traveled into Cape Town by train for their manual labor jobs in the city. When the women and children arrived to Langa in the late 1950s, whilst it led to cramped conditions and poorer sanitation, it did lead to health clinics and schools being built, which also led to more jobs within the township.

I am really thankful I went because some of my preconceived notions were shattered and I left inspired and full of hope. I think that’s what happens when we engage with people and places of difference. That’s why I love to travel. I put flesh and bone on ideas and stories I’ve only considered from a distance.

My guide showed me that there are several socioeconomic classes even within a township – not everyone lives in a shack (which is sometimes the picture  we have in our heads of townships like Langa and Soweto). In fact, there was a middle class, and an upper class – an area he joked was the Beverly Hills super rich area. But he wasn’t far wrong: the houses in the township here were far larger and people drove fancy cars. It was a microcosm of any city all within the township.

The lower classes still live in shacks and shared spaces. The rent for these is free, as well as water. The only thing they have to pay for is electricity.

The lower middle class live in small brick and mortar homes, but due to overpopulation in the township, many share the space with other families. Many of this class live in government-built homes, most of which were constructed en mass in 1994 following the end of apartheid. People queued up for these homes, and the wait was (and still can be) as long as 10 years for one of these houses. Those who live in these do pay the government some rent.

The middle class live in small homes, with fewer families sharing the spaces. Again, the residents of these types of hoard pay rent to the government. They, along with the other lower economic classes, typically have to prepay for electricity and water.

The upper class live in bigger houses and are employed in professional roles such as accounting or in medical jobs, but choose to stay in Langa to give back and support the community which supported them.

Ludumo also took me to a community center that was built to help youth learn crafting and art skills. The youth designed the beautiful mosaics that adorn the building and they have workshop spaces there. They are also able to sell what they make. I was able to purchase a necklace for Verity and meet the creator. I bought a beautiful sand painting of an African Wild Dog (which I hope to see on this trip) by a young man who is extremely talented. I saw beautiful mugs and other pottery, too, but space in my suitcase is getting tight.  There is joy, and beauty, and entrepreneurship, and creativity are alive and well in Langa.

I think visiting a township, or any place that is off the normal tourist map, can be beneficial if done right. Let the residents speak for themselves and have a local show you around. It is an opportunity to learn and experience and broaden your understanding of the diverse ways in which people live, survive, and thrive.

The only path to true reconciliation is with and through one another. That means seeing, hearing, and engaging with those on the margins and those we may not normally commune without or even think about.  It means visiting places like Langa and learning from them and investing in their future, because ultimately it’s an investment in all our futures.

READ MORE SABBATICAL NOTES:

Johannesburg and Soweto

Cape Town #2: Robben Island

Cape Town #1: Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden

Istanbul #2: Hagia Sophia

Instanbul: Old City

Today, in Johannesburg I visited Soweto township and the Hector Pieterson Museum.

The museum is named for the young boy who was shot and killed by police on June 16, 1976, during the student marches protesting the mandatory use of the Afrikaans language in their schools to the exclusion of their native languages.

I was able to hear a first-hand account of the events of that day by Mama Antoinette, Hector’s older sister who was participating in the march.

On the morning of Wednesday, 16 June, 20,000 students in Soweto assembled in school grounds before beginning their march to Orlando Stadium where a protest against Afrikaans was to be held. On the way, not far from Phefeni Junior Secondary School on Vilikazi Street, 12-year-old Hector Pieterson joined the group which included his older sister Antoinette.

After a brief standoff with police, a shot was fired. Mama Antoinette recalled everyone running. And hiding. She showed us the place she hid and where she saw her brother standing out in the open. She called to him and he made his way to her, but there were more shots and confusion and they were separated. She said that spot is special to her because it was the last place she ever saw her brother alive. There were more shots and Antoinette saw a young man running up the street. She didn’t know what he was doing but then she saw the body he was carrying and recognized the shoes. She followed, crying, asking what he was doing with her brother. They finally arrived at a clinic where a doctor said Hector was dead.

There are famous photographs of that day showing a dying Hector Pieterson, cradled in the arms of a fellow student, with his terrified sister running beside them. These images, taken by news photographer Sam Nzima, became a symbol of the resistance against apartheid. Today, June 16 is commemorated as Youth Day in South Africa.

I asked Mama Antoinette what reconciliation means to her. She said she felt 50/50 pain and hope. She echoed some of what Kgotso told me yesterday. She said only about 15% of white Africans seemed to have any interest in reconciliation but wanted black Africans to just move on and forget the past. She emphasized reconciliation takes two parties, and you can only do your own part.

She was able to take part in the Truth and Reconciliation in 1996 and share her story. At first, she didn’t want to, but realized she needed to in order to free herself of the burden and pain she’d been holding onto for so long. She shared her story and the commission asked if she wanted to know who killed her brother. She had to really think about that but eventually decided no, but she told the commission she forgave everyone. She said she needed to. It wasn’t just for them, but for her, too. She needed release from that moment as the definitive moment of her life. She needed to cut the chains that tied her to that tragedy and the men who shot her brother so she could be truly free. She had to forgive to find peace and finally live a new life. She told me, “we must let the dead rest in peace, but the living must live in peace rather than in pieces.”

She was in pieces until she was able to share her story with the commission and forgive others. There was no other way to wholeness and newness. While reconciliation takes two, forgiveness only takes one. She echoes Tutu’s famous phrase, “There is no future without forgiveness” because she has lived it.

After the museum we walked with Mama Antoinette through Soweto to the house where former South African President Nelson Mandela lived, on and off, for more than 14 years. The house has now become a museum that tells the tale, in sound, film, interpretive panels and guided tours, of the Mandela family during the apartheid era and beyond.

In his landmark autobiography, The Long Walk to Freedom, Mandela describes coming back to his house in Soweto in 1990 upon his release after 27 years in prison: ‘That night I returned with Winnie [his then-wife] to No. 8115 in Orlando West. It was only then that I knew in my heart I had left prison. For me No. 8115 was the centre point of my world, the place marked with an X in my mental geography.’

Vilakazi Street, where the Mandelas lived, is the only street in the world to have housed 2 Nobel laureates − the other being Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu.

In 1961, Nelson Mandela left No. 8115 for life on the run as a political activist. He was arrested and imprisoned in 1962. I wrote about that after my visit to one of his prisons, Robben Island.

His second wife, Winnie, who he married in 1958, was subjected to harassment, torture and imprisonment while living there on her own with the children.

I can only imagine the terror and struggle and anger that would often fill the house as her daughters had to watch their mother be dragged away by Apartheid police again and agin. This was routinely undertaken from 1962 until 1986, when Winnie returned from exile in Brandfort to continue life with her children. On 28 July 1988, Winnie and Nelson’s house was burnt to the ground by a fire after a conflict between the Mandela United Football Club which Winnie led, and pupils from Daliwonga High School. The community came together to help rebuild the Mandela’s house.

11 years later, on 16 March 1999, the house was awarded the status of a public heritage site, with Nelson Mandela as the Founder Trustee.

I learned a lot about the Mandelas’ lives and struggles at the house. His life was full of difficult circumstances and near impossible choices. What I’ve discovered through these different journeys and experiences is that I can’t judge people for what they do in contexts and situations so vastly different than my own. I can’t judge what an oppressed Irish Republican decides to do as they see they community destroyed by paramilitary groups any more than I can judge Mandela for some of the choices he made in his struggle for freedom for his people, or what people did in our own country from freedom from Britain or their supposed masters. We never know how we’d respond in similar circumstances unless we find ourselves in them. I pray we never do.

So we cannot and should not judge, but be willing to learn from them and their mistakes and successes and failures along the long roads to freedom.

There’s a lot of information out there about Mandela in the form of movies and biographies so I don’t want to rehash a lot of what you can easily find on your own, but here a few highlights that stuck out to me;

Mandela was expelled for joining a student protest while studying at Fort Hare. After a short stint as a security guard at a mine, he spent some time as a legal clerk in the law firm Witkin, Edelman and Sidelsky. His passion and natural aptitude for law was seen through his studies both in and out of prison, and the establishment of South Africa’s first Black law firm, Mandela and Tambo, with Oliver Tambo in August 1952.

His involvement in politics became more pronounced from 1944 when he helped to start the ANC (African National Congress) Youth League. The following years saw harsh punishment from the state against Mandela and his fellow political activists.

Some of the most notable movements in his activist career were leading the ANC’s armed wing Umkhonto weSizwe, facing sabotage charges at the Rivonia Trial, and being sentenced to prison and banned from political activity multiple times. These moments led to a life imprisonment sentence in 1964. He was freed from prison in 1990 amid growing domestic and international pressure and fears of racial civil war by President F. W. de Klerk. Mandela was then elected President in 1994.

While there are a lot of opportunities to learn about Nelson, there aren’t as many to learn about his wife Winnie. Winnie was just as intelligent and driven as Nelson, finishing the top of her class for her social work degree in 1955. She chose a medical social worker job opportunity in Johannesburg over a scholarship in the USA. Nelson and Winnie were both charismatic and had a passion for equality and justice for their country and the world.

It must have been extremely difficult for Winnie in those early years (but also while Nelson was in prison). She walked into a life characterized by intense underground campaigning, which frequently meant she and Nelson couldn’t be together. The police raids in the dead of night became a constant feature in the family’s life. The police would raid the home and ransack the place. A few months after finding out about her first pregnancy, Winnie and other women embarked on mass action to protest the Apartheid government’s Pass Laws. She was arrested along with 1000 other women. She was appalled by the inhumane prison conditions. This intensified her resolve to keep fighting for justice and in the subsequent years she was continually harassed and imprisoned.

In 2016, the South African government recognized Winnie for her contributions to the liberation struggle with the award of the Silver Order of Luthuli. After a long illness, she passed on at the age of 81 on April 2, 2018.

While the Mandelas were active in the struggle for justice, they were also leading voices for reconciliation. Reconciliation can’t happen without justice and mercy. Mandela knew there was a divide in his country, a legal divide between races that became economic and philosophical and educational. Life was not good for the oppressed majority and anger was building. He knew there would need to be peace and reconciliation with the minority white Africa in power, but that couldn’t happen before justice was done. He worked for equality and for power-sharing and when that was accomplished he didn’t use his new power to hurt but to help hear the old wounds of his country.

We, too, need to reconcile over many things in our nation, but first we have to ask, has justice been done? Is there more work to do in order to make reconciliation possible? To ask for reconciliation without justice is to ask someone to say all the wrongs done to them are okay and can continue.

This doesn’t mean that justice has to be perfectly done. That’s never the case. No one will ever agree on when justice is complete or done the right way. But if there is no progress, it’s insulting and demeaning to expect reconciliation. It’d be like an abused woman being asked to reconcile with her husband while continuing to be abused and knowing it will continue to happen in the future. We would never suggest that (at least I hope not). The same is true for societies where there has been injustice.

READ MORE SABBATICAL NOTES:

Cape Town #2: Robben Island

Cape Town #1: Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden

Istanbul #2: Hagia Sophia

Instanbul: Old City

Today I had the profound experience of visiting Robben Island and was guided around the island and prison by a former political prisoner named Kgotso. If you’re wondering why it is named Robben Island, the word ‘Robben’ is the Dutch word for seal, named after a large colony of seals that once populated the land.

Robben Island is acknowledged for its great political symbolism as a place of selfless struggle and as a place signifying the triumph of the human spirit over great adversity. The Island is a space of memory with a rich and layered history going back 10,000 years. It’s actually the top of an undersea mountain! Its recorded memory and history of interaction with the outside world is said to have begun with the arrival of Vasco da Gama in 1498.

Robben Island has a chequered history of maritime contacts, confinement and banishment, oppression and hard labour, torture, segregation and discrimination. It has also been a military post, World War Two garrison, leprosarium and mental health facility, a prison for common law criminals and for political prisoners. Very few places in the world have such a long and layered history of human suffering, the fight for freedom of the mind and the body, and of subsequent triumph.

Robben Island is most famous for being a maximum-security prison for anti-apartheid political leaders from 1961 to 1991. After the political prison was shut down, the island became a museum for visitors and tourists to pay homage to the resilient leaders who fought for South Africa’s democratic society.

The prison was notorious for its harsh conditions and cruel treatment of prisoners. The prisoners had to comply with Robben Island maximum security structures and were forced to do tasks such as breaking rocks into gravel under harsh weather conditions. Prisoners were kept in solitary confinement which was primarily used as a means of punishment and torture.

While working in the limestone quarry was arduous, many prisoners saw it as a blessing. Mandela said the quarry would become their university. Since so many prisoners were lawyers, professors, and doctors, they could teach the other prisoners while working alongside them. Many prisoners preferred the work with one another over being alone in their cell.

Robben Island is famous for the many anti-apartheid freedom fighters incarcerated there. Members of the ANC, PAC and other organisations including the SA Congress of Trade Unions, National Liberation Front and the Communist Party were imprisoned on Robben Island for their anti-apartheid activism.

One prisoner, Robert Sobukwe, eventually became a detainee rather than a prisoner and was kept in a house on the island. The government didn’t want him to go free so added a clause to a law just for him to keep him detained. It was called the Sobukwe clause. He was a leader of the PAC.

In 1964, famous anti-struggle figures, Nelson Mandela, Walter Sisulu, Govan Mbeki and other ANC leaders were sent to imprisonment on the island. Mandela spent 18 of his 27 years of incarceration there before being elected as the country’s first democratic president. After decades of grueling incarceration, finally, in 1991, following the unbanning of political organizations in 1990, all political prisoners were granted freedom and were released from Robben Island.

I had some time in Mandela’s small cell. It’s fixed up from what it originally looked like. My guide showed me another cell that was more authentic looking with chipped paint. Originally there were no glass windows, just bars, on the one window looking into the courtyard so all the elements came into the cell.

What amazes me is the power of hope in those incarcerated there. It is mind boggling that these political prisoners could endure years of harsh conditions and torture to still be strong enough in mind, body, and spirit to help usher South Africa into a new democracy and to do so largely peacefully.

If anyone had reason to seek vengeance and retribution it would be people like Mandela, but he chose the path of reconciliation. He chose mercy. He did not bury the truth but let mercy coexist with the truth. It couldn’t have been easy, but his hope for a better and more equitable South Africa gives me hope for a better and more equitable US and world.

The transition wasn’t perfect and there are still plenty of political problems in South Africa, as there is everywhere, but when things could have devolved into civil war and violence Mandela helped the nation choose a better path. He, along with leaders like Desmond Tutu helped many in the nation learn and choose to forgive. But reconciliation isn’t just forgiveness.

Kgotso was sent to the prison in 1984 and sentenced to 25 years. He was in the last group of 50 prisoners released in April of 1991. He said he never wanted to return to the island. Every thought or memory of his time caused pain and trauma. He had nightmares and was turning into someone he didn’t want to be.

In 1996 there was a reunion of all the political prisoners imprisoned on Robben Island that Kgotso attended. It was difficult but he realized he had needed to return. A few years later he began guiding tours of the prison on the island and sharing his story. What started as painful began to be healing. He said people need to remember and know the history. It can’t just be buried because it might make some uncomfortable or feel guilty. It would pain him and make him feel worthless and meaningless if Robben Island was swept under the rug, no longer taught in schools, or visited.

I asked him what thoughts or emotions the word reconciliation brings up for him. He said “pain.” It pains him that he and people like him are the ones expected to do the work of reconciliation and make all the concessions when the ones who perpetrated the injustices show few, if any, signs of remorse. They just want to move on and forget and demand the same from those whose lives were forever changed and damaged because of their selfishness and unjust laws. I asked if it seems the other side wants him to provide peace and mercy without them having to provide any justice or recognition of the truth. He said, “exactly.”

I asked if he had ever received an apology from anyone for what happened to him. He said one guard spoke to him in 1996 and said he was sorry. Kgotso felt he was sincere and forgave him. That conversation was meaningful to him, but it was only one guard out of many guards and politicians and others who had put him and kept him in prison.

We all have much to forgive and be forgiven for. If we could confront those things with courage, and with courage ask for forgiveness and grant it, perhaps we, too, could find ourselves on a path of reconciliation and healing in our communities and country. We don’t have to be prisoners of a painful and unjust path, though that is often chosen. We don’t forget it. We don’t say it was okay. We don’t pretend it didn’t happen. We acknowledge it, we rectify it, we learn from it, and we heal from it as we reconcile ourselves with that painful past and each other.

We still haven’t done that in the US from any number of historic and current traumas. We have not righted wrongs or even acknowledged some injustices. We won’t heal and move forward together until we do.

Read more Sabbatical Notes:

Cape Town #1: Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden

Istanbul #2: Hagia Sophia

Instanbul: Old City

Today was my first full day in Cape Town, and I had the opportunity to visit the Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden. What I found most interesting is that there are only plants and flowers native to South Africa in the garden. Every other botanic garden I have ever visited has flowers from all over the world. Sometimes those flowers and plants were appropriated from other places in the world. So at first I thought, “Wow, they are really trying to emphasize South Africa, so this garden must be a place of communal pride and unity.” But things are never so simple, especially in a country like South Africa that has a history of colonization, exploitation, injustice, and unfair power dynamics… not unlike Ireland and not unlike the US.

South Africa is a country whose identity will always be tied to colonialism and the exploitation that comes with that. The botanic garden cannot escape that heritage. Kirstenbosch was built in 1913 on land that had been shaped by centuries of Indigenous presence; violent conflict in the wake of European settlers’ occupation of the Cape in the mid-17th century; and colonial forestry and agriculture, both of which included the use of the labor of enslaved people. The botanical garden was established with the aim to contribute to the development of the newly established Union of South Africa by promoting science, the economy, conservation, education and a sense of belonging and citizenship among white South Africans. It evolved within imperial networks in the southern African region, which is reflected in Kirstenbosch’s collecting practices which, while claiming to exclusively represent the South African flora, included plants from areas under South Africa’s military influence in the southern African region.

In the discussions leading up to Kirstenbosch’s establishment in 1913, Harold Pearson, who was to become the institution’s first director, listed easy accessibility for ‘as large a number as possible of the civilized inhabitants of the country’ – meaning white South Africans – as a criterion for the selection of a site. Black people were imagined as its laborers but not as its visitors. Throughout the apartheid era, Black visitors were not formally excluded, however they were actively discriminated against; refusal to be served in the popular teahouse regularly led to bitter complaints.

Kirstenbosch has for a long time been culturally alienating, as it has throughout its existence centered Western knowledge systems. Plants were displayed as objects of science, ordered according to taxonomic and phytogeographic criteria, and equipped with labels featuring their Latin scientific names – despite focusing, together with the other South African National Botanical Gardens, on plants classified as indigenous to South Africa. Popular names in English or Afrikaans were included, but no connections were made to the African and Indigenous epistemologies and cosmologies to which the plants were attached.

In 2002 a new garden concept was created that highlighted how the indigenous people of South Africa identified and used the native plants. The Useful Plants Garden focuses on African and Indigenous uses of plants, including about 150 plant species, which are ordered according to categories of use. In the development process, izangoma/amagqirha and izinyanga (traditional healers) and Rastafari bossiesdokters (a prominent group of plant practitioners in the Western Cape) were consulted. The plants are accompanied by labels which, in addition to Latin taxonomy, also include names in English, Afrikaans and African languages as a standard.

Even this attempt at a decolonized garden that emphasized a traditional and indigenous approach to botany has had its issues and criticism.

Why does all this matter? I think it showed me once again that all parts of society are impacted by the past and its power struggles. Even something that seems simple and universal like a garden can reinforce power structures and stereotypes. It takes so much intentionality to deconstruct the injustices inherent in societal systems.

One reason I chose to go to Ireland and South Africa as part of my sabbatical was that it’s sometimes easier to study and identify those things when we aren’t a part of them. I thought it’d be easier to talk about these issues at a distance before talking about the issues at our doorstep.

The reality is that the issues of injustice and colonization, the nation’s heritage of slavery, and racism and class struggles still show up everywhere even if we don’t notice it. And what I’ve learned is that reconciliation can’t really happen until we start to notice and deconstruct some of these things instead of those in positions of privilege and power saying “It’s in the past get over it” or “It’s just a garden what do you have to make a problem out of everything.”

We have to be willing to listen to those who are telling us that the way things are still hurts and still isn’t fair and still prioritizes one way of living in the world. And on the flip side, when one side tries to make amends and do better, grace has to be offered when the first, second, or even third attempt isn’t perfect. And we have to be willing to work together to fix it and make it better not just for us, but for them, and everyone else.

I didn’t expect to learn so much about society and reconciliation from a garden, but that’s the beauty of travel. You learn in unexpected ways.

I also learned that they have a yellow bird of paradise flower found only in South Africa. Mandela visited in 1996 and they officially changed its name to the Mandela Gold.

I also visited the colorful Bo Kaap neighborhood. It started as an area for slaves to live and it was required that every house be white. Once slavery was ended the residents painted their houses all different colors in defiance. It has been a predominantly “colored” neighborhood. Colored is a term proudly used in South Africa for people who come from the indigenous people of the cape and Indian immigrants. Colored people have darker skin than white European but lighter than the black African people. When the ANC government took over (the black African government) they tried to raise taxes their to drive the colored people out. It eventually because a UNESCO heritage site so taxes couldn’t be levied. It just goes to show once again that those who have been oppressed for so long don’t suddenly govern justly and equally for others. Throughout history, governments too often have worked just for their own group to the exclusion and disadvantage of others even if they were once disadvantaged alongside those others. This is why justice is such an important part of the peace and reconciliation process. Giving new power to any one group doesn’t mean the process is over or that justice will now be done.

READ MORE SABBATICAL NOTES:

Istanbul #2: Hagia Sophia

Instanbul: Old City

One of the places I really wanted to visit while In Istanbul was the Hagia Sophia and it didn’t dissapoint. Hagia Sophia was the tallest human made structure in the world for a thousand years and was completed in less than six years, which blows my mind when you consider how long some of the European cathedrals like Saint Peter’s took.

As I mentioned yesterday, Istanbul has often been a city of peace and tolerance through its promotion of diversity. The city blends together cultures and religions from around the world that live in harmony. A perfect symbol of this mixture is Hagia Sophia. Originally, it served as the largest cathedral in the world for nearly a thousand years. The current one (there were two previous Hagia Sophia’s in the same spot built of wood that didn’t survive) was built by the eastern Roman emperor Justinian I as the Christian cathedral of Constantinople for the state church of the Roman Empire between 532 and 537. Designed by the Greek geometers Isidore of Miletus and Anthemius of Tralles, it was formally called the Church of the Holy Wisdom and was then the world’s largest interior space and among the first to employ a fully pendentive dome. It is considered the epitome of Byzantine architecture and is said to have “changed the history of architecture.”

Hagia Sophia was embellished with mosaics of Christian symbols such as angels, the Virgin Mary, and Jesus. When the Ottoman Empire took over, it was converted into a mosque, adorned with minarets and Arabic writings in the 15th and 16th centuries, acting as a template for other Ottoman mosques. In 1934 it was turned into a museum, welcoming visitors from all around the world, representing the integration of Islam and Christianity in Istanbul. On July 10, 2020, the Council of State (Danıştay), the highest administrative court in Turkey, revoked the 1934 Cabinet decree that had turned Hagia Sophia into a museum. The Court’s decision was followed by a decree signed by Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan to reopen the monumental building as a mosque after a hiatus of 86 years. The Christian mosaics remain but those in the main area are covered with sheets because of Islam’s rules about images. You can just make out Mary on one of the upper walls behind a sheet.

What I find interesting is that for 1500 years different emperors and empires and crusaders and sultans and armies have preserved and protected this church-turned-mosque-turned-museum-turned-mosque. All these different leaders and religions and governments have been aware of its outstanding cultural, historical and spiritual value in all senses and have, for centuries, protected, renovated, and fortified this holy site accordingly.

Historical records show that when İstanbul was conquered by Ottoman Sultan Mehmet II, ‘the Conqueror’ (Fatih) in 1453, he headed directly to Hagia Sophia where the local residents had taken refuge, to let them know that their lives and properties would be safe and untouched. Unlike the 13th century when there was looting and pillaging — or the poor, dilapidated state of the building before the time of the Ottoman conquest — Ottoman Sultans did their utmost to repair and maintain the edifice where they performed their Friday prayers. The Turkish government continues to preserve and protect the UNESCO World Heritage site today.

Even though the building is now a functional mosque once again, it continues to welcome all visitors, regardless of religious background to visit and experience the site, and its rich history continues to be preserved.

One of the things I’ve learned is that religious practices in this city are far different from those in the United States; Muslims freely pray in churches and Christians freely pray in mosques. This is experienced when entering Hagia Sophia, where both Islamic and Christian symbols are observed and respected. It’s also interesting that there are many Greek and Roman mythological symbols too for Poseidon, Aphrodite, Zeus,etc. I felt the presence of God there and offered my own prayers in this sacred space that has had millions of prayers offered to God/Allah over the course of the centuries. It felt holy and right to pray in a place that is seen as valuable and sacred to so many who also disagree on so much. It felt like a place of peace and reconciliation for those reasons, so it was the perfect place to pray.

Sent from my iPhone

Who is someone unrelated to you that helped you become a better version of yourself?

Susan Kastelic: I am fortunate to have several people come to my mind, but the one to name would be Barbara Hardy who was the Volunteer Coordinator at Hospice of Central PA when I took the training course to become a volunteer 26 years ago. During the course of the training she pushed me out of my comfort zone to  take on challenges I didn’t think I could accept. Her example and encouragement have remained with me in my hospice work and my life. 

Debbie Hough: The person who influenced me so much is Dr. Lamar Williamson. Lamar taught all the Bible courses at the Presbyterian School of Christian Education and he taught us how to do exegesis – which allows the Bible to tell us what it says (instead of practicing isogesis, where we reverse things and we tell the Bible what it says). I learned that Lamar was a missionary in Zaire at one time and I remember seeing him terribly angry one day which was so unusual. He said that Stephen Biko was killed and introduced me to apartheid in South Africa. Lamar showed me the world in a faithful way. 

Charlie Koch: There are a number of them over the years and more are being added. The ones that are known most to our congregation are Dale & Blondie Ferguson. There are teachers I would cite from high school and college. Some co-workers and friends. Many moved me at times when I needed course corrections and I am sure most of them have no idea. I think that most of them have no idea that I view them in this light. Our journey through time is a curious one.

Karen Carns: Mrs. Adams, a Sunday School teacher, who taught me to appreciate the beauty of the earth, speak kindly, and love always.

Suzie Gloeckler: Pastor Paul Laurel was my family minister. He confirmed me, married Dave and me and baptized my son. He challenged me all along my journey.

We’ve had a number of requests for “The Meeting” insert — the dramatic reading presented on Sunday, Oct 9 featuring Justice, Mercy, Truth and Peace. If you’d like a copy, click here to download the PDF. To watch the presentation, click here.

4:00 – 5:30 PM SUNDAY, NOV 13 IN THE SANCTUARY
IN PERSON ONLY, NO LIVE STREAMING

Come back to church on the evening of stewardship Sunday, when we’ll share a report of gifts and enjoy a program featuring the many talents of this congregation. “Basically Broadway” features members and friends of Derry singing new and classic Broadway favorites. It will be a fun night of laughter, music, and fellowship as we celebrate our church’s talents and the pledged gifts that enable us to fulfill our God-given mission. Nursery care available: RSVP required: 717-533-9667.

9 AM – 12 PM SATURDAY, OCT 15 AT ELIZABETHTOWN PARK

Parents of young children are invited to spend time together and let their kids play at our new series of playground meetups. The first meetup will be hosted by Elizabeth Gawron. Derry friends will meet at the Fun Fort entrance.

If you are interested in hosting a meetup at your favorite playground, please contact Pastor Stephen.

Many Derry friends are providing scholarships for Presbyterian Education Board (PEB) students, and have expressed concern for their safety on learning about severe flooding in Pakistan. Friends of PEB is raising funds to be used for boarding scholarships and discretionary funds to remove other barriers to school attendance for impacted students of Pasrur and Sialkot schools. More than 30 million people have been directly affected or displaced from their homes, and PEB has two boarding houses and four schools in this affected area. Click here to donate