Following lunch, as a very sleepy and sedate crew, we headed to Constantia, where the oldest winery in the “New World” can be found. This vineyard first began in 1685 and is particularly famous in the annals of time as the producer of Napoleon Bonaparte’s favorite sweet wine, which he had shipped to St. Helena’s during his exile. These wines were quite popular during the nineteenth century among the aristocracy and very wealthy, and for just R22 (~$3) we got to taste five of them! They were really quite good and I was introduced to a new kind of wine, the blanc de noir. It’s kind of a white wine weight with a red wine flavor. I also really liked the dessert wines, although I could never drink them regularly… simply too sweet!
The vineyards were beautiful, even in their dormant winter state. I was reminded of how beautiful I thought the vineyards were in Italy and it made me really want to see the vineyards in Napa. There is something so peaceful about the rows and rows of vines. I imagine sitting on a porch in warm sunshine with the sun going down and a nice glass of wine… yep, that would be nice. I thought this vineyard was especially nice with the mountains rising behind it. Do mountains and vineyards go together? Is there something about mountains that make them good for growing grapes? Hmm, must research…
Sunday, we headed to the waterfront to go to Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for eighteen of his twenty-seven years of captivity. The island is about 10 kilometers off the coast of Cape Town and the ferry ride is about thirty minutes, from coast to coast. We arrived at the launching off site with plenty of time to read the history of the island from its prehistoric days to its present, which some of us did more thoroughly than others.
Of all the various tidbits of history (outside of the political prison history) that we learned, two stand out: First, for many years, Robben Island was a lepers colony that housed several thousand people with the disease. In the 1930’s, when the ‘hospital’ was finally closed, they burned all of the buildings except the church for fear of the buildings being contagious. Secondly, during World War II, the island was fortified with cannons, only the cannons weren’t finished until after the war was over!
Clearly, the greatest significance of the island is its use during apartheid as a political prison. Beginning in 1959, the island was used as a maximum security prison. Over its thirty year history, the prison housed over 3,000 prisoners in harsh, violent conditions. The cells for men identified as ‘leaders’, of the ANC or merely listened to in the court yards, were cramped and isolated in an attempt to break the spirit of the strong. As a more than six foot tall man, Nelson Mandela could never fully stretch in his small cell. The island is now a World Historical site and the Robben Island Museum provides tours of the island and prison throughout the year. These tours are all given by men who were incarcerated on the island.
We had two tour guides; one on the bus that drove around the island and one for the prison itself. Our bus tour guide was a rather gifted story teller and was able to bring to life the full history of the island. The gentleman that gave our prison tour, however, truly kept me spell-bound. His commentary was both personal and political. He began with a discourse on language. There are eleven national languages of South Africa, all given, in theory, equal weight. Our guide made this observation: when someone asks what languages you speak and you begin with Xhosa, Zulu, Sotho, or Swati, peoples’ eyes start to glaze over as they nod, ok ok, but if you begin with French, Dutch, German, English, all of a sudden you are remarkable. In truth, many South Africans have many languages in which they are fluent and it is certainly not the case that they are all treated equally. As an American with no viable second language in spite of five years of French and four college-semesters of Italian, I am constantly amazed by the ability of those able to keep multiple languages in their heads. It is a shame that this is not more celebrated, but as I understood our guide’s point, it is our responsibility especially as English speakers to respect equally the cultural background that language represents. For me personally, I know that I respect language, and I know that it is tied to greater cultural meaning, but I am also aware that I secretly hope everyone can speak English. Not because I don’t want to learn other languages, but because I’m SO bad at learning them myself! (I’ll sometime talk more about Xhosa—THE most difficult language I’ve EVER tried to speak!)
Once we got into the prison, our guide began to tell us his personal story from Robben Island. He was arrested for involvement in youth protests and he was imprisoned at 16. He was released shortly after his 19th birthday. In the three years that he spent on Robben Island, this young man was tortured and brutally beaten on several occasions. The cruelty that this man described was no less horrific than the Nazi concentration camps. And yet, this man spoke of nonviolence, of reconciliation, and of peace. I have thought a lot about nonviolent movements since I’ve been in South Africa and their power and influence—more on this later.
All in all, another eventful weekend full of thought provoking and beautiful experiences.
Always,
Sarah
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