Letter from Cape Town

[I lived and worked in Johannesburg from 1997 to 2001. During a visit to Cape Town in November 1998, I wrote the following letter to a friend of mine in London sharing my initial impressions of one of the most beautiful cities in Africa. But it was not the physical beauty of Cape Town that captivated me; it was its history. The letter was a private one, but the issues it raises are of sufficient public interest to warrant wide circulation.]


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Cape Town

Monday, 16^th November 1998

My dear Ann,

I hope that this letter finds you well. I write to you from Cape Town on the third and final day of a truly delightful visit here.

I got here Saturday morning and linked up with my friend Ciru, who is a student at the University of Cape Town. She and a friend of hers took me to Cape Point – the southern-most tip of Africa – where the Indian Ocean and the Atlantic Ocean meet; the place Vas-Co-Dagama thought was too beautiful to be called the Cape of Storms and re-named the Cape of Good Hope. That was, of course, when he stopped by on his way to go and get spices in India.

Cape Point is a story of bitter-sweet memories. Its beauty being the silver lining; but it was also the gateway that ushered in not just the Portuguese (at least they just stopped by and passed on), but also Jan Van Riebeck, who landed in 1652 and stayed – the fore father of Africa’s only white tribe – the Afrikaners. I need not recount the sad link between him and Hendrick Vervoed, John Vorster, PW Botha and FW De Klerk, and 400 years of white domination of black people and apartheid.

Which leads me to that other place of pain and hope just off the coast of Cape Town – Robben Island. I made the half hour crossing yesterday, followed by a memorable tour of the island and the prison – including cell number 5 – the womb from which sprang forth the democracy and formal equality I now enjoy alongside 40 million black and white South Africans. Being at Nelson Mandela’s cell is almost a spiritual experience for any human rights activist – it should be a recommended pilgrimage for anyone who fights for the dignity and fundamental rights of all humanity.

But I have to say that it is really disheartening that after the trip to Robben Island, I had lunch at the Victoria and Alfred Waterfront, and the glaring inequalities of modern South Africa returned to haunt me. 95% of the shoppers and diners at the Waterfront are white, while 95% of the menial workers are black. And this is replicated elsewhere in South African society. Although there is no longer any law telling people where they can or cannot go on the basis of skin colour, simple economics ensures that the colour bar is maintained. And it will be a long time before black people can participate in the fortunes of this country on the basis of full equality.

But back to Mandela. It is clear that after 27 years behind bars, and eight years of steering the transition to democracy, the old man had done his part. The challenge to bring about the required transformation clearly now lies with others (Thabo Mbeki et al); as well as the South African people in general. I am blessed to be here to witness how they rise up to the challenge.

But I hasten to point out that I don’t consider myself to be merely a spectator in all this. Not only does my job dictate that I participate in the transformation, but I believe that God has brought me to this place and time to teach and prepare me to participate in a transition that’s taking place all over Africa; for as Franz Fanon says, “Every generation must, out of relative obscurity, discover its mission, and either fulfill it or betray it.”

Whether we like it or not, the torch is about to be passed on to us. The future of our continent lies in our hands. We are an integral part of the unfolding of our era; and I pray that we would play our part fully in realizing the full potential of the people of the land of our birth.

I would, if I may, like to narrow down my reflections to the situation that currently obtains in Kenya. Over the last few years, I have seen more and more Kenyans immigrate to other countries in search of opportunities. It is clear that many people feel rather helpless to stop the tide of decay that has befallen our country the responsibility for which lies squarely at the feet of an inept and greedy leadership. All of these immigrants are young people in their twenties and thirties – people who are at their most productive. A number are students abroad, but the vast majority are illegal immigrants trying to eke out a living in Johannesburg, London, Los Angeles and such other places.

I do not blame them; they are the new exiles seeking economic freedom. The silver lining, however, is the fact that Kenyans never really leave home. Many still look for opportunities to invest back in Kenya and many would invest back home if we had systems that really worked. For me, this presents a challenge for those of us working in the area of democratization and good governance. What I perceive from the growing population of Kenyan exiles is: ‘Get the act together and we shall return ourselves and our money to build our homeland.’ It is a challenge that I take personally.

And in return, our challenge to those of you resident abroad is the same one that Nelson Mandela gave to a group of young South Africans who were about to flee into exile just before Mandela began his life sentence in 1963 – “We shall need your skills; go and prepare.” Among the group hearing this was a young man by the name of Thabo Mbeki, who took these words seriously and is now preparing to take over from Mandela as President when the latter retires next year.

And like Mandela, I believe that Africa is the continent of the future. The obstacles are doubtlessly numerous, but we must prepare ourselves to take advantage of every opportunity; for success comes when opportunity meets preparation.

And so as I sit in the shadow of Table Mountain looking over the Atlantic Ocean to the island of despair-turned-into-a-symbol of hope, I cannot help but reflect on what our country, and this continent, could truly become – a place-of-hope, and a destination for anyone seeking to know how accidental divisions of tribe, colour and race, can blend together in a symphony of brotherhood and sisterhood, equality, fairness and justice for all.

Sincerely yours,

Njonjo Mue.