After enduring a weekend of rain, the 14th finally arrived and we nervously awoke to survey the weather. When the verdict proved to be slightly overcast but absent any rain, we breathed a huge sigh or relief and caught a Rikki to the Victoria & Albert Waterfront. We passed through a modestly-sized mall before reaching the Nelson Mandela Gateway building. Soon afterward, we boarded a ferry boat to make the 45-minute voyage through the choppy Atlantic to Robben Island. Our water journey proved memorable as our boat was tossed from side to side by one imperious wave after another. With a vantage point on the outside deck, we were quickly chilled to the bone by the crosswinds and blistering spray. Despite being seated away from the outside rail in the center of the deck, Kaberi still managed to be the only person on the boat to become drenched when a rogue wave set its sights on her pants. She was not amused.Thrilled to be on solid ground once again, we boarded a bus on the Robben Island pier and set off on a tour of the island. The island first began as a leper colony and a leper church and cemetery were the first stops of our tour. Making our way around Robben Island’s southern coast, we came to the house where anti-Apartheid activist and Pan African Congress founder Robert Sobukwe's was imprisoned in isolation for years without a trial. From the Sobukwe house, we drove to the complex’s Maximum Security Prison where Mandela was jailed in a claustrophobic cell the size of a miniature tool shed. At this point, we learned that our tour guide was, himself, a former prisoner. We were further astonished to learn that island tours were led by both former prisoners and former wardens. The thought of being a prisoner and returning to the island to give tours side-by-side with one’s captors seemed unfathomable.
The ever-gloomy skies overhead and frigid crosswinds seemed an entirely appropriate backdrop to our visit. Learning of the conditions that the political prisoners endured – including inadequate clothing, boots, bedding and nourishment – proved to be a sobering experience. We walked through the cold, bare cells in one bleak, squat building after another. In one area, we saw signage indicating how prisoners were rationed food based upon their race. Stepping outside, we couldn’t help but notice the proximity of the shoreline, yet another aspect of the island to invariably torment the prisoners. Returning to Cape Town, we both felt seared and haunted by the excursion.
The following day, on Indian Independence Day, we retained the services of Shah (the friendly driver who originally picked us up at Cape Town airport) to drive us past Chapman's Peak and to Cape Point, the southwesternmost point on the African continent. As both an Indian and a native South African, Shah gave us a candid and compelling perspective on post-apartheid South Africa. His thoughts reinforced in our minds the unique position South Africa holds as a country where power transitioned from a colonizing minority to a native majority without a wholescale retreat or civil war.
Shah shared with us his belief that, in exchange for considerable financial consideration, a few prominent former political prisoners colluded with Afrikaaner officials to keep the country’s economic power in the hands of the white establishment. He went on to suggest that the otherwise well-intentioned ANC government was being set up for failure by its undemocratic predecessor and by entrenched white economic interests. In turn, the ANC fomented the mess through scattered incompetence and corruption. Shah also lamented the relatively-slow pace of change and unequal income distribution and presumed that future bloodshed was inevitable.
As our discussion unfolded, we enjoyed the passing scenery. We first drove to Hout Bay to see sea otters frolicking near the waterfront. Afterward, we advanced to the entrance of Chapman's Peak Drive, which was barred due to the threat of falling rocks loosened by recent rainstorms. Taking a different route through the wealthy Kommetjie area and through its neighboring township. The township was congested with corrogated tin shacks interspursed with a few concrete houses built by an Irish businessman cum philanthropist. Our observations of the stark contrast between the lives of the wealthy and the poor in such close proximity gave us much to consider in conjunction with our conversation with Shah.
A short drive later, we reached the end of the Cape Peninsula where savannah ended with rocky outcrops fronting dark green seas. We first jumped on the funicular railway to the old lighthouse at the peak above Cape Point. Alighting, we hiked around the major peak that dominates the landscape before discovering a smaller peak about 100 meters further south. We then hiked the path to an overlook to a smaller, second lighthouse at sea level where we were the only two looking out over the crashing waves below. After enjoying the peaceful surroundings, we made our way south to the Cape of Good Hope to join our fellow tourists in posing next to the prominent sign. The stark natural beauty of the area was undeniable. Our afternoon at Cape Point proved to be a welcome respite from the prior ten days of uninterrupted urban life.
