| Until the democratic elections in 1994, I had never experienced
anything that could be termed national identity. The word national
smacked of the Nationalist government, and identity was about rules
to keep people disempowered. Only some of us had Identity documents.
Others had pass books which restricted movement from one place to another.
I still remember a siren that sounded at 9pm every night, after which no
Black person was allowed to be seen in areas deemed White only. More than
two people in one space, eg. chatting on a corner, was deemed a gathering
and illegal. The reality only hit home in the 80's when everyone
knew at least one person who had disappeared overnight. S.A. was
a police state and detention without trial was the norm. Of course
it only happened to so called left wing liberals who were a threat to the
govt., but in reality anyone who did not stand for Nationalist supremacy
was at risk.
I was forced to learn Afrikaans at school. I hated it. The 1976 Soweto uprising which threw the entire country into disarray was caused by the govt. insisting on Afrikaans as a teaching medium in schools where the home language was predominantly Sotho. As a child, I was very confused about the whole issue of race and class. I could not understand how on the farm I played with the kwedin's and tombi's ( young boys and girls), ate meals in their huts etc., but in the town, there were separate schools, separate areas for living. There was the Group Areas Act, the Separate Amenities Act etc. Whites only/ Blankes Alleen signs were everywhere. I always felt that I did not belong anywhere and never had the urge to feel national pride when singing the anthem about oxen pulling wagons over mountains - under the blue sky - in the name of 'God'. I felt no pride at being South African. To be South African seemed to stand for one who - supported apartheid, had a boetie (brother) on the Border fighting terrorists and for the most part spoke die moeder taal (the mother language) I felt it was all a big mistake. I was not one of these people. Who was I? At the age of 30, I finally experienced national pride for the first time. When Nelson Mandela was inaugurated I wanted to cry. I felt released from non-identity status. Finally I could feel like I belonged here. I no longer had to cringe when saying "I am a South African" I hoped I would no longer have to listen to people saying - "It's not bad for South African - wine, music, acting, art etc." (Shiney - I understand and relate to this inferiority complex - must be a southern hemisphere thing <g>) But the cultural hangover is huge. The masses still want bigger and better culture. MacDonalds is a real hit, and so it seems are theme parks. Anyhow, I digress. Where in the old South Africa, I had the right skin colour, the wrong sex and the wrong language, I now have the wrong skin colour, the right sex and the wrong language. (for things like full-time employment) Although 2 wrongs don't make a right, now that I feel a sense of belonging, I take it that being a woman is powerful medicine. I am a woman
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