Day 3-059
8 hrs, 2 .7 kms
Day totals: 16 hrs, 6.4 kms

Wellington and Paarl are sister cities, with a huge township slum in the center. The minibus to Paarl meanders through this township, allowing me a good glimpse of it--from the safety of the bus. I see a big section of it is being rebuilt with cookie cut low income cinderblock houses. A definitely upgrade from a metal shack, but still very crowded and small--and with their angled roofs, not easy to add another floor.

But there's something troubling about these government housing projects: they're being built in the same areas assigned for the blacks during apartheid... So... basically, the government is reinforcing apartheid, rather than deconstructing it! And if this country can't even properly police its town centers, how is it going to police the slums? This means that, even if someone living in one of these projects works hard and saves up money, he'll just be more of a target for robbery and burglary ... and go back to zero once again.

Something just does not feel right about this...

In Paarl there's a river that runs through the middle, with the black neighborhoods on one side and the white on the other. Once I leave the town center, I find myself on a pleasant, shady street with a safe feel.

A few blocks away is an old house that says "Boer Museum". I would like to get a glimpse of the Boer perspective, so I head inside for a look. The house starts with a display of what a typical 19th century Boer home would look like... then it gives some insights into their history and language.

In the beginning Afrikaans was just a mishmash of a whole bunch of languages, thanks to immigration from Netherlands, England, France, Germany--as well as words from African languages. Then a man named Arnoldus Pannevis determined that it needed to be written and a grammar structure determined ... and the Bible needed to be translated into this language. And so a new language was born. A language which would serve as an anchor for Afrikaans identity. There's even a display showing an Arab scholar who translated Afrikaans writings into Arabic.

It makes me think of Moroccan Arabic, which is also a mishmash of various languages... However Moroccans scoff at the idea of making it an "official" language with it's own grammar rules and teaching it in schools. Instead children study Standard Arabic, which they never actually use in speaking to each other.

Another display shows the history of Afrikaans music. It shows how in the early days whites and coloureds (those of mixed white/South Asian/black ancestry) played music together, but then apartheid forced a rift between them.

I continue on my way, stopping at a tourism office to see if there's anything I'm missing. Two young folks there are eager to chat and educate me a bit . They identify themselves as coloureds... so it gives me a chance to hear their perspective.

First they give me an overview on Paarl, "At the top of this mountain is a giant rock--which was a sacred spot for the San tribes. Nowadays, Paarl is a safe, prosperous city with one of the best universities."

"What about the townships?" I get two responses.

The guy tells me "there's a lot of culture there... but don't go by yourself... always go with someone from the area"

The girl has a different take "Not everyone there is poor. Some people are there because they get everything for free. Free electricity, water, and if they have 3 kids eventually a free house... But due to corruption, some people who get free houses don't even live there--they just rent the house out to someone else."

She also tells me that she never takes the train to Cape Town, instead she drives to the university "It's too dangerous!"

I ask about the effects of apartheid . The guy tells me "My father was so angry about it that he dropped out of the military. I wish he had stayed though--he would have climbed high in the ranks"

"Even though he wasn't white?" I aks

"Yes"

He continues. It will take a long time for people to change their ideas about race. I'm dating a black girl, and my parents complain, telling me their culture is too different from ours..."

It's pouring down rain, so the girl offers me a ride to the train station... I gratefully accept. I'm also grateful for the insights they've given me into their culture... although I must admit, that the more I learn about South Africa, the more confusing and complicated it gets.