Day 1

You know when you wake up in the morning and immediately reach for your cell phone to check the time? Yeah, doesn’t work here. Groggy and confused, I reached to the bedside table and realized then that I need a wristwatch. After lying in bed and staring at the ceiling everyone woke up and got ready for our first day. Destination: Apartheid Museum, Johannesburg. We hit the supermarket for some bread and cheese (any traveler’s perfect travel food) and headed into town. We hit accident traffic but arrived easily at the museum, which was crowded with visitors, no doubt due to the World Cup. What an amazing museum.

We trudged through it in 3 hours or so, breezing quickly over some stuff. I admittedly took a while to get through and met up with the rest of the party at the exit. Maybe I took too long because Rena was able to slip in a 45-minute nap while she waited for me to hit the end of the museum, and Alli gave me the, “what took you so long?” look. We still had to go back and extract Dad, who won’t let a word get past him in museums. It was hard to understand the intricacies of the politics of a country with which I am not familiar, especially in the context of Apartheid, but I learned a lot. For instance, I found out the origin and significance of the Ubuntu concept (roughly, interdependence, cooperation and humanism) and how it shaped the early childhood of Rolihlahla “Nelson” Mandela. Now it makes sense to me that it’s also the name of an open-source operating system!

A few things struck me about the museum. Some images of life under Apartheid were similar to what we saw here during our own system of apartheid and Plessy v Ferguson era; some were disturbingly worse. The ignorance of Apartheid politicians advocating for these systems was striking. They mentioned in television interviews that they had a duty to create legislation for the primitive natives who didn’t have the capability to do so for themselves. Those who know me well will realize that some of the strongest feelings I felt were the similarities to the current living conditions of the Palestinians. Relocating citizens by force to change demographics, assigning separate facilities based on race, and on and on. It’s amazing that so recently the world chastised South Africa with divestment, sanctions and unified international pressure to protest that system of Apartheid, but we turn a blind eye to a similar situation in the Middle East today. If we don’t move to prevent the horrors of prejudices in the world, then I can sadly conclude that this museum might as well be a pile of rocks and we have learned nothing from history.

Through the entire museum another thing I took from it was the power and the will of the leaders of the African National Congress headed by Nelson Mandela, the "Madiba." I stood in an isolation cell similar to those in which many of the anti-apartheid leaders were confined. I entered the cell and began to close the solid door, but couldn’t go through with it. I immediately began to witness the feeling of stepping into my own grave. And in stepping in, I checked my spirit at the door. The cell spanned about an arms-width and had enough length for an average person to barely lie down. No windows, the only source of light being a skylight above you. Seriously, looking up made me feel like I was already six feet under. How Nelson Mandela’s ideals and ultimate vision remained intact for one day, let alone the length of his incarceration is a testament to the personal strength and vigor of a living Saint. “To be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.” Awesome.

After our trip to the museum, it was time to hit something a little more light-hearted. We intended to head into Soweto to watch the final group-stage game for Bafana Bafana, the South African National Team, at a FIFA Fan Fest (huge screen venues where you can watch the game for free), but a helpful driver next to us advised us to stay away. Generally speaking, he said, the Soweto township area can be confusing even to locals and not entirely safe for tourists. So, he advised us to hit Sandton instead, for the Fan Fest there. At a capacity of 20,000 it’s still only half the size of the one in Soweto! We knew we were close when we all were quieted by a strange noise. We opened the car window and heard the sound of vuvuzelas. Generally, I’m not a fan of them when watching on TV, but hearing the buzz of enthusiasm at the epicenter of the Fan Fest gave me a feeling like no other. I instantly became a fan of Bafana Bafana, which means “The Boys.” With a shot of national pride in my veins for a country I’m only visiting, I headed to the Fan Fest to cheer with the rest of the thousands of locals and tourists. All the pictures here were taken by Nidal.

As we approached the Fan Fest from the side along a busy street and before we entered, we saw the home team score their first goal. The reaction was ridiculous! The people went nuts, and IT. WAS. AWESOME. Cars were honking, as they no doubt were following the game on their radios, the buzz from the sound of vuvuzelas skyrocketed, and national flags waved everywhere. It was so cool! We got there just in time and I’m thankful to have witnessed it. Just as we entered the Fan Fest, we saw another goal. I could honestly have that feeling forever and it wouldn’t water it down at all. People were dancing together and celebrating like no other place in the world at that very moment. Simply put, that’s why I love soccer. There is nothing better than feeling national pride, and the World Cup is the one time when every single person in an entire country can share it more intensely and with a warmer heart than during any other experience.


We headed home, but not before grabbing a bite to eat and a few sips of wine at a Greek restaurant called Mythos. Exhausted, we watched the final game of the night at home.