As you head east out of East London on the Eastern Cape of South Africa and rejoin the N2 national highway, you descend through fertile green valleys until you reach the muddy brown waters of the Kei River. A relatively new two lane concrete bridge dwarfs the old rusting iron structure that once served as the single track crossing of the R102, guarded by the now decrepit concrete shell that was the border post between the Eastern Cape and the Transkei. It’s an inauspicious crossing these days, perhaps purposely so, and you barely notice the corroded, ivy encrusted iron fence that used to divide white and black.
The Transkei is one of the Xhosa homelands created by the Apartheid governments who cut up and re-drew the South African map, in so doing relocating millions of black and ‘coloured’ South Africans away from their traditional tribal homelands and into large vacant expanses onto which American style block towns were built and heavy industry moved in. Away from the new towns and tar roads, the old small rural communities remained where the traditional tribal way of life of the generations before was continued with emphasis of self-sufficiency and self-governance; a way of life that still continues today. Exit was not permitted without correct paperwork and ID, to be caught outside the border without sufficient identification meant an immediate return. It was only in 1994 that the border post was decommissioned and movement between the Eastern Cape and Transkei was freely permitted.
It’s election time in South Africa and registration was in early February. Those with ID books signed up at their local offices whilst the many without did not. As you trundle along the N2, joining the dots between the small settlements that scatter the surrounding empty green hills, you pass endless signboards, banners and posters championing the various candidates for whom there is little hope: The ANC have held an unassailable majority since 1994 when Nelson Mandela took over the presidency. His success; in taking an objective view on South Africa and transcending the injustices of the apartheid governments in the name of all South Africans, has not been mirrored by subsequent leaders who have been more inclined to adopt a more hardline approach. The pendulum analogy is a common anxiety and one which many fear will be realised in full should highly controversial ANC Leader and probable election victor Jacob Zuma come to power when the votes are counted in April.
Championed by the ANC as an uncomplicated and passionate man of the people many fear that Zuma, a loyal and aggressive Zulu of proud working class heritage, will continue the descent from the days of Mandela and move South Africa into a new era where politics will once again be used to marginalise rather than unite. New splinter party COPE (Congress of the People), a result of the recent power struggle between Jacob Zuma and former president Thabo Mbeki, and began by former ANC members loyal to Mbeki and Mandela, offer a credible but ultimately unlikely threat as do the DA (Democratic Alliance) who have had a surge in popularity uniting both white and black voters, but it is the ANC who are roundly expected to keep their absolute majority in the April elections.
Leaving the N2 and pointing towards the hills and coast the roads degenerate, soon becoming little more than dust trails between maize fields and small gatherings of green washed rondavels. Children play innocently in the road; the speed and frequency of the passing traffic poses less of a threat than an opportunity to ask for “Sweeeet, sweeeet”. Men in handsomely cobbled uniforms flag passing pick-up’s for lifts as the signboards and posters of the N2 vanish, as does any semblance of the urban environment inland. Life here is viewed from a very different perspective.
Sitting on a hill early one morning, contemplating a surfless day ahead after heavy overnight rains had swollen the rivers sending brown floodwaters sweeping through the line-up, I meet Meniswa. I watch her idle up the hill in the heat and bid her good morning. Though I am sat in boardshorts with surfboard resting across my lap she mentions she is selling beads and asks if I would like to buy some. I pat my empty pockets and apologise but rather than move on as many of the other local craft sellers would, she drops her bag and sits next to me taking in the morning air as we look out across the bay.
She is 36, though she looks younger, and was born and raised in the Transkei. She is one of 18 children who live with their parents in a small cluster of rondavels at the top of the adjacent hill, marked by a small column of chimney smoke rising through the early morning haze. She spends her days making and selling beads, making enough money to buy bread and rice to accompany the Millies (corn) they harvest from the small field at the back of their huts. If she needs extra spending money she will act as a guide to the local Marijuana plantations hidden in the hills. Though she doesn’t smoke it’s an easy way to make a few Rand and she doesn’t mind relieving the eager tourists of money they are only too willing to flutter.
When I ask if she plans to leave the Transkei she says no. This is her life and was the life of her parents, why would she want to change when all she needs is here? I ask about the rest of her family; her brothers work in the mines north of Jo-Burg but Transkei is home and they always return at every occasion to share their money and honour their family - a trait I have found with most working men I have met in the cities. When I ask her of the coming elections she smiles a soft smile and shakes her head but not in disapproval of the question, it’s clear she pays little heed to politics, family comes first and governing is left to the chief. I am suddenly aware that the ideal of ‘home’ here is far stronger than anywhere else I have visited. The conversation ends and she gets up to go leaving me to trudge the puddle strewn mud path back to my hut and contemplate the simple life.
The more you travel in South Africa, the more people you meet, the more places you see, the more that you are confronted by the huge discrepancies not just between rich and poor but the cultural differences that exist between the different tribes, races and societies of the ‘Rainbow Nation’. The complexities of attempting to govern such a diverse population really hits home as you travel from province to province, interchanging between societies each one the polar opposite of the next, the only tangible link being their South African nationality – a concept only really created in 1994. It’s not just a South African issue, but a problem endemic to African politics. How will politicians who have emerged from the poorest backgrounds and with strong tribal heritage put the needs of a nation ahead of their own people? Their people to whom they are deeply loyal and with whom, have suffered at the hands of previous regimes?
Pride has no place in politics, especially here in Africa. As Barrack Obama cited in his inauguration speech, it’s time to look above and beyond the needs of the individual and to act for the common good. This is the challenge that awaits South Africa’s next president, how he goes about this will determine the future of one of the last peaceful democracies on the African continent.
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