There are 12 million ways to categorize people.

It’s important to know which category you fit into so you can use the correct toilets, sit on the correct bench, and live in the correct areas in your city. Or else you can expect to be punished by authorities.

The Apartheid museum uses grim photos, video footages and stories to illustrate how the Blacks and Whites lived during the time leading up to the new government in 1994 with Mandela’s release. With a card that tells you that you must enter the building using either the Blacks Only entrance or the Whites Only entrance, we walked back into a sad period of South African history. Miss South Africa had always been white. Townships were a way to segregate people. Whites were not allowed into Black areas, Blacks were not allowed into White areas. Blacks needed documentation to travel and even move from area to area. There were curfews for Blacks. Freedom fighters were incarcerated, tortured and hung for saying or doing anything deviant from Apartheid laws. Suicides were common in prison cells.

So what makes you coloured, Asian or Black? There are ways to find out which rung you belong to in society. Tests like sticking a pen through your hair and seeing if it falls off easily gives quantitative proof of what you are.

But even as a university graduate, I don’t understand all this. How can people treat other people in such a way during Apartheid? How did they even think of such creative ways to exclude people, take power away from people and have the right to do as they please? At the same time, there are so many models out there to follow such as the German Nazis, the Canadian’s mistreatment of the First Nations, and Australian way of mistreating the Aborigines. In each case, I realize that it must be easy to continue with the system if you are White. You have the privilege of going to the all the fancy resorts, live in the best section of town, earn a good salary and know that “the other” are inferior to you.

Observing the Social Experiment

Seeing South Africa today, not even a decade away from the time of human violation, gives me a feeling that I’m living time backwards. I’ve never known a life leaden with such discrimination. I haven’t been to many parts of the country yet but it’s interesting to observe people in my own neighbourhood. Hatfield, the student area has a disproportionate representation of Whites. Walk into Hatfield Square where there is drinking, music, dancing and drunken fun and you’d have to really work yourself into a mess to pick out Blacks, Asians or “Coloureds” sitting among the partyers. The university should be well represented and Whites make up a percentage of only 10% in South Africa.

Some Afrikaaners (of Dutch descent- also known as the Boers who came to claim SA in the late 1600s) are still very exclusive. Call an office in Pretoria and you may hear Afrikaans in the phone until you tell them that you cannot understand. For some people, Afrikaans is their first language and they are less comfortable using English.

Race relations and awareness is heightened here. People talk openly about Affirmative Action (AA) and Previously Disadvantaged Individuals (PDI). Ayanda asked me if we had PDIs in my office and I had to ask him what he meant. Pointing an index finger hard against his cheek, he said openly: “I mean- people who have Black skin.” I was shocked. Such strong and blatant language! Politically correct Canadians ought to be appalled. But are we so much different? Maybe we are just hiding under a blanket of denial that people treat others differently because of appearances.

But ignorance is still somewhat unbelievable to somebody who came from a more cosmopolitan city in an immigrant country. Just walking down the street when you’ve got an Asian face can get you remarks about China, martial arts and questions about language. More Blacks call out comments to by-passers but both Blacks and Whites have questioned me about how to say certain things in Chinese. Speaking to somebody for a long time in a Canadian accent does not give you immunity from being questioned if you are from China or Korea.

Guessing Games

How fun can the guessing game be if it’s full of stereotypes?

I walk into a restaurant with Tanya and Christiana. I’ve been talking on my mobile for a while and the waiter asks where we are from. “Guess.” Tanya says.

“I don’t know about your two, but I have an idea of where SHE’s from,” he says pointing at me knowingly.

“Oh, really? Where am I from?” This might be fun, I thought to myself, maybe he would say the US because of the North American accent

“Korea or something,” he says finally.

“Wow, you’re right.”

I’m not amused.

Driving on the left side of the road, a pillow of copper dust trailing behind, I shift slowly from second to third gear using my left hand, keeping the steady speed of 40 clicks an hour. Dangerous manouver? For a tame Canadian it may be, but not for a driver scoping out the nature parks. . .

Going on a Road Trip

Last weekend, three interns (Tanya: Ontario, Christiane: Germany) bumble their way into a web of confusing roads twisting past mismarked signs that never correspond to the ones on road maps. Highway numbers that sprout from the side of the roads lead to unachieved destinations. And as they drive around in helpless circles, the kilometres of the rented car continue to increase- they will have to pay an extra R1.56 per kilometres. After the flurry of blind navigation, they reach the Promised Land: Sun City.

City of the Rising Sun?

The name itself raises goose pimples. Is this where the mountains part when the majestic sun sets to reveal a black starlit backdrop? Negative. Sun City is the name of South Africa’s very own Las Vegas. Walking in- the dim room with flashing lights blasting from the slot machines and clanking sounds of money and gambling contraptions – and you’d think that you’ve arrived in Nevada.

This billion plus dollar resort is huge: the complex, with its own wave/splashdown Park, hotels which includes the 5 star Palace of the Lost City looks like a gigantic theme park. The guide confided that the owner got all his invested back in a year (gambling was illegal in SA for a while)! The artificial elephant carvings aspiring to look African (in- of all places – Africa!) make a potential Las Vegas attraction: “Lost in South Africa”. This conglomerate reeking of profit is situated in one of the poorest regions of the country. I couldn’t wait to leave this Indiana Jonesesque land of debauchery.

Reserved for tourists

But than again, our main point of interest is Pilanesburg Nature Reserve, just over 2 hours away from Pretoria. Waking up in a decently furnished lodge in Rustenburg at 4:15am, we start our way towards the park gates that opens at 6am. More like a Where’s Waldo adventure, we roll the car along, squinting into the distance for anything that moves, armed with binoculars and cheap cameras. The terrain of golden wheat harvest resembles a rustic prairie scene on one side of the road, while on the other side is the seedier dark brown earth with rugged bare bushes leading up to hills. The rolling mountain range is sprinkled with silhouettes of trees outlined against the early sky. The animals graze early in the morning and when the sun begins to set to beat the heat.

We are fortunate to get close glimpses of the herbivore wildlife snacking on tree leaves. Clay-like elephants pull roots and leafy vegetation; quirky giraffes chomp on leaves from the tree tops, zebras punks snort at each other. I pinch myself to make sure that I’m not living some Nature Channel fantasy! We also see wildebeests, waterbucks, impalas, and kudus. The hectares of the reserve land span across a variety of terrain including water holes, drier desert and dams. Through binoculars we see lazy hippos napping, baboons hopping around and birds of all shapes. Zebras and elephants just cross the dirt path like moose or deer do back at home!

Funny how we quickly adjust to the more ubiquitous animals. As the day wears on and the heat drains us of curiosity, we pass by elephants as if they were lampposts in a suburban neighbourhood at night. “Oh, its another zebra. You don’t want another photo of that, do you?” We drive past without another glance.

Towards the end of the day, the skies darken, rain starts to pour and the animals go into hiding. But suddenly, the sky lights up with flashes of lightening tearing the dark sky apart. It’s too bad we don’t see a lion this time but I’m hoping next time I go to a reserve I will see them and the rest of the Big 5 (Lions, buffalos, leopard, rhinos and elephants).

ps. I've been here for exactly one month now!