represented a triumph for the human spirit.
The policy of
Government policies of oppression were pursued at first through direct police action—including not only arrests and assaults, but also abductions, tortures, and murders. Then the policies were pursued even more insidiously, by pitting blacks against blacks. The Zulus in particular, led by Chief Buthelezi under the banner of his Inkatha Freedom Party, came into conflict with the ANC and fought many bloody battles with its supporters. Buthelezi received considerable financial support from the government and was accused by his foes of having “sold out” to the white establishment. Other tribal chiefs were also accused of betraying the cause of democratic civil rights. Adding to the chaos and distrust, a mysterious “third force” of militaristic right-wing whites was said to be fomenting hostilities among the various black factions.
Protest evoked repression, which in turn evoked more outraged protest, as violence became ever more frightful. Although the fatalities were relatively few in each confrontation, they added up, totaling more than twenty thousand. One cannot make light of these fearful events, yet they fall far short of the mass uprising and massacre that had been the nightmare of many South Africans, black as well as white.
In Rwanda, with a population one sixth that of South Africa’s, five months of genocide and mass slaughter in 1994 resulted in more than a half-million deaths and two million terrorized refugees. This is just one reminder, among too many that might be cited, of what can happen when hatred and revenge take over, as civility and negotiation disappear.
In South Africa, even while violence stalked the streets, people of good faith on all sides sought some formula for accord. Bowing to the inevitable, government leaders made overtures to Nelson Mandela in his jail cell. There followed a number of secret meetings between white politicians and ANC leaders—in New York and London —calm and congenial meetings by all accounts, in which the seemingly intractable differences between the parties were addressed. Progress was slow, but the negotiations developed an irreversible momentum. When, in 1989, F. W. deKlerk was elected leader of the governing National Party, he met with Mandela directly. This led to the release of Mandela from prison and the legalization of the ANC.
In 1992, white voters, by referendum, endorsed the concept of reform. Equally important, Mandela met with Buthelezi, raising hopes for accommodation between the ANC and the Zulu Inkatha party. In 1993, agreement was reached on an interim constitution, and in April the following year, elections were held. In the new South Africa, the tribal “homelands” were dissolved. Nine provinces were established, one of which incorporated the old Zulu homeland and the territory called Natal: hence, KwaZulu Natal.
As if this succession of events was not miraculous enough, one must add the story of Buthelezi and the deus ex machina. Up to a week before the elections, the Zulu chief had resolved not to participate, which would have been an unhappy portent for the future. As told by Buthelezi, a mediator from Kenya was coming to see him, but he, Buthelezi, was on his way elsewhere in an airplane. However, his plane developed engine trouble and had to turn back. Buthelezi met the mediator and was convinced to throw in his lot with the democratic election. Obviously, divine intervention was responsible!
Aboard our ship, the designated experts on African history and culture were Richard and Deborah Frost, a professorial couple from Stanford with impeccable academic credentials. They had been recruited to give a series of lectures, and to lead our shore excursions. Of course, the engineers in the group whose homes were in South Africa had the knowledge and awareness that goes with being a native. But the Frosts possessed the detailed information and perspective that comes with scholarly study. One evening, shortly after we arrived on the beach, but before the expeditionary force had reached Ulundi, they shared some of their ideas with our Focus Group.
Richard started off by quoting an old Afrikaans saying: “’
The night was warm, with a breeze from the northwest that carried odd and unidentifiable scents from distant places inland. Our “guest lecturers” sat closely together like a newly married couple, touching, as if reassuring each other that they were there, alive and together.
Herb interrupted Richard to say, “Hey, I thought the Jews were supposed to be the chosen people.”
“It’s sort of the same thing,” Frost replied. “It’s the Old Testament tradition—the Exodus, and the experience of having survived adversity through the years. When the Afrikaners won the election of 1948, they controlled the destiny of the nation for the first time. The new prime minister, Daniel Malan, declared: ‘Afrikanerdom is not the work of man but the creation of God.’”
Herb pursed his lips thoughtfully, and Richard continued.
“There are interesting comparisons we can make, not only between the Afrikaners and the people of the Bible, but also between Afrikaners and the black citizenry of South Africa. Both groups share tribal traditions— loyalty to the extended family, respect for authority, respect for one’s elders, respect for one’s ancestors. Today, in a world laid waste, with formal government destroyed, I believe that this shared heritage should stand us in good stead.”
“I don’t know,” Tom Swift interjected. “I’ve read a lot of end-of-the-world fiction, and usually there are bands of marauders roaming the countryside living by pillage and plunder. When the formal bonds of society are removed, all hell breaks loose.”
“Let’s hope that there’s a difference between our reality here and the nightmarish fiction you’re so fond of,” Richard responded with a smile. “I’m optimistic. Assuming, of course, that there’s food enough to go around.”
“Aren’t you being something of a Pollyanna?” asked Sarah. “Our shore excursion reading material warned that there was lots of crime and disorder in KwaZulu Natal, and that was before the chaos in which the survivors must now find themselves.”
“Yes, there was crime,” Richard said. “Left over from years of riot and protest, and made worse by unemployment. I know that many of the young people, both black and white, had become materialistic cynics with little use for the old traditions. But I think that the catastrophe—fury descending from the heavens, if you will— might well bring renewed respect for the time-honored ways. And we know that there won’t be any more unemployment problems. There will be a great need for everyone to pitch in. I dare hope for a spiritual revival, for a return to the finest tribal traditions. If there is food—let me repeat—if there is food enough for all survivors, I think that the forces of decency and cooperation will prevail. This may astonish us, and should certainly amaze such heavenly powers as have seen fit to test us by fire and flood.”
At this point Mary spoke up. “There is another important factor that you haven’t mentioned,” she said. “The disaster occurred on Christmas Day, when families must have been gathered together. Those who survived will be moved to give thanks and resolve to work together in the Christian spirit.”
“That’s an interesting point,” Richard said. “During the apartheid years, many of the black men got used to working in the large cities and returning occasionally to their ‘official’ homes. They are now free to live anywhere in the country; but it is still the custom to return to tribal centers, particularly, I would think, on a holiday like Christmas—whether they are Christian or not. You know, I keep saying ‘are,’ but ‘were’ is the operative tense.”
“I’m just afraid that all the pent-up hate that the blacks must feel for their white oppressors will now come pouring out,” Roxy said, expressing aloud what most of us had probably been thinking.
“This is the true miracle of South Africa,” said Deborah Frost, who until this point had let her husband carry the discussion. She was a petite, tanned, athletic California girl, in contrast to her hus band, who was more of an Ivy League type. “I’m sure that you’ve heard about the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of the 1990s. Established by the Mandela government, and chaired by Archbishop Desmond Tutu, its purpose was to try to heal the wounds of the apartheid years by exposing the crimes that had been hidden by the government. It was a quasi- religious idea. Members of the security forces and others were to confess their crimes before the commission, after
