I Want to Go Home Forever , livre ebook

This careful collection gives the reader an intimate look into the lives of migrants, the people they find along their journeys and the worlds they inevitably create together. It also conveys the complexity and contradictions of experiences of migration and makes plain that experience is inseparable from personal and political belonging, and perhaps even what it means to be human. From its incisive introductory chapter, this ‘unapologetically local’ book nonetheless imparts important lessons for a global audience, from the expert to the casual reader, on how people make sense of movement – theirs or that of others – within and across borders.
E Tendayi Achiume, United Nations Special Rapporteur on Racism, Racial Discrimination, Xenophobia and Related Intolerance
Like all excellent ideas, the one that animates this book is both disarmingly simple and powerfully original. So much has been written on xenophobia in South Africa, and yet so few have listened with care and precision to the voices of the ordinary people at the coalface. This book unsettles so many old assumptions, like who is host and who visitor, who belongs and what indeed it might mean to belong at all. It does this simply by creating a space in which people bear witness to their lives.
Jonny Steinberg, Professor of African Studies, Oxford University and author of A Man of Good Hope
These are raw, honest, personal stories – some heart-breaking, some up-lifting. All creatively collected and beautifully told. Each story is a study in journey-making. No matter where we may have been born, each of us seeks a place where we will be safe and respected for who we are. The stories in this collection illustrate that no journey is easy – each act of leaving and each attempt to begin again is tough. At their core however, these stories grapple with the making of a nation. They teach us about urban poverty and women’s struggles for space and freedom and of course they speak of racism. Taken together, these narratives illustrate the quest for dignity and so they tell the story of humanity and striving and ambition in the midst of profound difficulty. This book speaks to South African and African concerns but at its heart, it documents a set of global phenomena that are important to anyone who cares about the state of the world today.
Sisonke Msimang, activist and author of Always Another Country
I WANT TO GO HOME FOREVER
I WANT TO GO HOME FOREVER
STORIES OF BECOMING AND BELONGING IN SOUTH AFRICA'S GREAT METROPOLIS
EDITED BY
LOREN B LANDAU AND TANYA PAMPALONE
Published in South Africa by:
Wits University Press
1 Jan Smuts Avenue
Johannesburg, 2001
www.witspress.co.za
Compilation © Loren B Landau and Tanya Pampalone 2018
Chapters © Individual contributors 2018
Published edition © Wits University Press 2018
First published 2018
http://dx.doi.org.10.18772/22018082217
978-1-77614-221-7 (Print)
978-1-77614-222-4 (Web PDF)
978-1-77614-231-6 (EPUB)
978-1-77614-270-5 (MOBI)
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher, except in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright Act, Act 98 of 1978.
Project manager: Inga Norenius
Copy editor: Inga Norenius
Proofreader: Danya Ristić-Schacherl
Cover and book design: Peter Bosman Design
Cover artwork: Senzo Shabangu
Maps: Miriam Maina, redrawn by Jabedi Maps
Photographs: Madelene Cronje, Mark Lewis and Oupa Nkosi
Typesetter: Newgen
Typeset in 10.5 point Sabon
We are deeply grateful for a Constitution that encompasses all that is good in us and a constitutional order that protects our hard-won freedom. Mindful of our gains, we nevertheless know that a long, long road lies ahead, with many twists and turns, sometimes through difficult and trying times. Poverty, ill health and hunger still stalk our land. Greed and avarice show their ugly faces. Xenophobia and intolerance play their mischief in our beautiful land.
AHMED KATHRADA, SPEAKING AT NELSON MANDELA’S FUNERAL IN QUNU, EASTERN CAPE, DECEMBER 2015
Contents
Foreword
by Karabo K Kgoleng
Preface
Maps
Introduction
by Loren B Landau and Tanya Pampalone
1 A bed of his own blood: Nombuyiselo Ntlane
Interviewed by Eliot Moleba
2 This country is my home: Azam Khan
Interviewed by Nedson Pophiwa
3 On patrol in the dark city: Ntombi Theys
Interviewed by Ryan Lenora Brown
4 Johannesburg hustle: Lucas Machel
Interviewed by Oupa Nkosi
5 Don’t. Expose. Yourself: Papi Thetele
Interviewed by Caroline Wanjiku Kihato
6 The big man of Hosaena: Estifanos Worku Abeto
Interviewed by Tanya Pampalone
7 Do we owe them just because they helped us? Kopano Lebelo
Interviewed by Thandiwe Ntshinga
8 Love in the time of xenophobia: Chichi Ngozi
Interviewed by Ragi Bashonga
9 This land is our land: Lufuno Gogoro
Interviewed by Dudu Ndlovu
10 Alien: Esther Khumalo *
Interviewed by Greta Schuler
11 One day is one day: Alphonse Nahimana *
Interviewed by Suzy Bernstein
12 I won’t abandon Jeppe: Charalabos (Harry) Koulaxizis
Interviewed by Tanya Zack
13 The induna: Manyathela Mvelase
Interviewed by Kwanele Sosibo
Timeline
Glossary
Selected place names
Contributors
* Not the narrator’s real name
Foreword
I have a deep, personal connection with migration. My parents met in Bloemfontein during apartheid. They were from a different province, migrant workers living as ‘foreigners’ in the Free State, given the influx control laws of the time. Soon after I was born, our small family moved to Mmabatho, in the bantustan state of Bophuthatswana. In 1988, when I was seven, political strife forced us to flee to Botswana. During the process of moving, my father, sister and grandmother nearly died in a car accident that took place under mysterious circumstances, so we continued to live with fear and insecurity. My father wouldn’t say why, but it had to do with Lucas Mangope, the president of Bophuthatswana. The Anglican Church ended up giving my father a job and providing comfortable shelter and school for my sister and me in Botswana. My parents always told us that one day, we would go back home to South Africa.
When my baby sister and I started at our new school, it wasn’t easy to explain where exactly we came from. For her, it didn’t really matter because five-year-olds have little awareness of such things and adapt easily. I, however, was still traumatised by the car accident and, although I was little, I knew exactly what was going on. I also knew it was not likely that I would ever see my friends and old teachers again. It’s bad enough being the new kid in school, but having a weird back story makes you stick out even more. Eventually I found my way; my school had children from all over the world, and the South African community in Gaborone was closely involved with the Anglican Church, which played a significant role in the anti-apartheid movement. Looking back, I am grateful that I had a strong, caring community to buffer me from the sense of alienation that typifies the experiences of many migrants across Africa. Also, my family remained intact and we were comforted and fortified by the love and protection of our parents.
During quiet time at home, my parents would tell us stories about South Africa, insisting that we came from a country of brave and talented people, and it was to South Africa that we belonged. They would play songs that were banned at home, by musicians like Miriam Makeba and Hugh Masekela. My father had a personal connection with the latter because they attended the same school and the story of Sophiatown tied in with their respective lives. My father had begun his priesthood there, in the township made famous by the forced removals of 1956, which split up the multiracial community and relocated families to Soweto and other areas. His political awareness and quiet activism began during those years. When my parents told us about the Soweto riots of 1976, my mother would relate how they started outside Morris Isaacson, the high school where she was working as a maths student teacher. It wasn’t long after that she left for Bloemfontein – a safer and more stable environment – to study nursing. Around the same time my father also relocated to Bloemfontein from Soweto for similar reasons. Even before I was born, my parents had to migrate from the places that they knew as home.
After ten relatively happy years in Botswana, it was time to go back. South Africa was now a democratic state and our lives were no longer in danger. I was well integrated in Botswana, with a strong friendship circle and a flourishing academic life. My father was given a parish to lead in the sleepy, tiny gold-mining town of Stilfontein in North West province. I had been looking forward to coming home but the culture shock was too much for me to handle. It was a closed society with high racial tensions and my new school was as different from my old school as it could have been. The students were lukewarm, although friendly, but they were also curious about me, which caused me great discomfort. When it was time to go to university, I went to Pretoria, which seemed to be simply a metropolitan version of Stilfontein – Afrikaans, exclusive and hostile. The continuing culture shock was so intense that I succumbed to a deep depression. I had to escape and eventually found Johannesburg, the city of dreams and diversity. Acclimatising to life here was very easy; I found a home among artists and intellectuals from South Africa and around the world. I can confidently say that I am finally home.
This is my story, one that I often tell when people ask, as they often do, ‘Where are you from?’ Johannesburg is characterised by its local and transnational migrant population and it is not unique among other major global citie