The Art Show
I wasn’t aware that there was a Mandela home that we could visit. We found this out during the art event we attended in Joburg (what they call Johannesburg).
I wanted to find out more about what they call the township. It just so happened that one of the artists at the event lived in one of the townships located in Soweto. During our talk, he asked why I have not gone to see Mandela’s house. Well you got me peaked, how far from here is it? He said about 40 minutes drive.
I pulled my niece aside and said ‘why didn’t you tell me about his house?’ She said it was in one of the worst and violent places in Joburgh. She read a book about the rapes of the young girls who live there. While here she met a female who grew up there and confirmed what she had read. I told her that things had to have changed since they made Mandela’s house a tourist site.
Let me tell you about Jo-burgh. South Africa has three capitals: Johannesburg, Pretoria, and Cape Town; I have been to two of the three capitals. You would not believe the trash all over the streets of Joburg. On our way to the event, it was about 8pm and the streets were so crowed with people, mostly young people. I noticed the trash but the next day it was right in your face. The homeless were more visible then all the other places I visited. The way I would describe how this capital city looked is HOOD!!! People refer to the Lemoyne Center as being located in the hood, well our hood looks like the Taj Mahal compared to Joburg.
So back to how we got to Mandela’s house. Zamami told us he would take us there and he would also take us to the township that he grew up in. I was excited and couldn’t wait until tomorrow. I gave Zamami a Warhol T-shirt; since we were at an art event I thought this T-shirt would be appropriate. When I asked him if he heard of Andy Warhol, he said, “Are you kidding me? I studied him.” Isn’t it amazing how God sets up the right scenario at the right time? When I gave him the T-shirt and told him about how our LMCC kids are being blessed by having the chance to work with the Warhol Museum.
The arts event featured six living artists, four of whom were black. I was surprised at the crowd because this was the most white people I had seen in one place since I came to Africa. I asked Zamami (who is black) where are all the black art supporters? He said this is how it is; they wont support the black artists.
Some of the photos you will see are some of the art I was impressed with. As I was looking at the art, all I could see was what looked liked dots. The dots were red and black on white paint. Someone said to me, look at it thru your cell phone camera. It was like magic – I saw the face of Mandel! When I lowered the camera, I couldn’t see the image as clear. The theme was black and white featuring Charlie Chaplin. Some came dressed as him, and they played his silent films on a big screen. They had a young man (he was black) who was excellent in his moves as he kept in character being one of the best Charlie impersonators I have everseen.
You could tell that these were the movers and shakes of Joburg, so I did what I do best – I worked the room. I met an array of people from the art world. One lady’s name was May. I asked questions about Africa; they asked questions about America. I told her I was going to visit Mandela’s house.
I asked for her opinion about how she sees things after the Apartheid movement. Boy did I get an ear full!!! In a nutshell, she grew up being wealthy. She said that ever since she was a little girl, she hated the way whites and some families treated the black people. She couldn’t stop it, so this caused friction within her own race. The more I spoke with her, the more she reminded me of my dearest friend Ms. Melda Parkinson. I felt her gentle spirit and enjoyed conversing with her off and on throughout the night.
She also said that they, the South Africans, felt that Mandela had died a long time before his actual death. She said, “Don’t get me wrong, we loved him.” She and others saw how his family was using him towards his later years. I was surprised when she said that the family kept him on that machine just to prolong his death.
Oh yeah, the name of the place where the art event was held was Ellis Park.
Before we went to see Mandela’s house the next morning, we stopped at an event that is held every Sunday. It is called Arts on Main. There were all kinds of vendors and restaurants set up. Since they served all ethnic types of food, I wasn’t surprised to see all ethnicities at the event. Mind you this is Sunday morning, and it was crazy to see how many people were walking those littered streets. All the stores were opened, even the beauty salons – on a Sunday??
We made it to the Arts on Main Street to see the shops and get some food. As we drove to get to the event, we had to pass street after street of blacks with there shanty stores. We parked the car and one side of the street was nice. The shops were what we would expect to see in the States. On the other side was…how can I say it… beyond ghetto!!! They had their music blasting, grills fired up, and the town folks having their own party. I said to my niece, we have to go to the other side. I did this to support the efforts of the black store owners.
I have never seen a place where you could actually see the line drawn. On one side of the street we have the Haves, (the white people are called Afrikaner’s), the other were the Haves Nots (black people are called Africans). Each side was there to serve its own purpose. Rich expensive cars of the Haves going to the event were being washed by the have not’s.
Both sides saw an opportunity and took it, this arrangement benefited both sides. The Africans would make sure your car was protected and washed for a few Rands. I didn’t see any fear in the eyes of those going to the Haves side of the street; they had to pass by the Ghetto. They just didn’t stop to shop at the have not side. but took advantage of some of the service that was offered.
All I could say is WOW…and WOW again.
I am on my way to Mandela’s house…
More next time… stay blessed.