Day #4

11/21/08
Today, Kenz and I caught a 9am ferryboat from V&A waterfront to Robben Island, the isolated island where Nelson Mandela was captured in a maximum-security prison for 18 years. In preparation, I have been reading his autobiography, which he began writing during those long years in his tiny prison cell, entitled "Long Walk to Freedom."

The ferryboat ride took almost an hour. I cannot imagine why a prisoner would even attempt to swim from the island to the mainland, a feat that was indeed attempted multiple times, although one that proved to be unaccomplished and impossible.

When we arrived to Robben Island, we boarded a bus and were given a 45-minuted guided tour. The history of Robben Island extends back to the 1600s when people with leprosy were banished to the island. It was also used as a place of isolation for criminals, then later used for a place of isolating political leaders and activists (most of whom were extremely well-educated doctors, lawyers, teachers, etc.), notably Nelson Mandela.

Upon arrival to the island, each prisoner was given a number-the first digits indicating the number of the prisoner on the island, followed by a "/", then the last two digits of the year he arrived. Nelson Mandela's number, for example, was 466/64, as he was the 466th prisoner/inmate in 1964.

The prisoners were only allowed to speak English and Africaans (the two most popular languages in South Africa, out of the total 11 official languages) to their family members upon visitation. Visitation was booked at least 6 months in advance, was limited to only 30 minutes, and no physical contact was permitted. If the prisoner and family members could not communicate in either of those two languages, they simply stared at one another for the duration of the visit.

The bus tour pointed out the vistitors' guesthouse, the limestone rock quarry where the inmates were forced to do relentless backbreaking digging and hauling of the rocks, vainly carrying the heavy masses from point A to point B, then back from point B to point A, until their superiors figured out how to use the limestone. We visited other historic sites along the island, stopping for a scenic view of Cape Town along the water, where the waves tossed ferociously against the rocks. We saw a shipwreck (featured in the photo) ashore the bay where countless shipwrecks took places again and again for many years.

We passed through the village (of approximately 100 people) where former inmates, now tour guides, and other Robben Island employees and their families currently live. There is one primary school, a church, a playground, etc.-all pretty eerie if you ask me.

After our bus tour, we proceeded to the tour of the maximum-security prison, led by former Robben Island inmate himself, Ntoza Talakumeni (number 58/86; 58th inmate arriving in 1986). He was arrested for belonging to the banned party and for leaving the country illegally. He was merely arrested for being a political activist, in taking action for his beliefs. I couldn't imagine being arrested for being pro-Obama or pro-McCain in the US, today.

Talakumeni led us through the barracks, various prison wings of the ward, and finally to Mandela's prison cell where he spent those 18 long years. It was so difficult to believe that he spend what would almost comprise the length of my lifetime, confined in such a small space and in such severe and inhumane living conditions. And he did that all while pressing on and while secretly compiling manuscripts of his autobiography.

The tour was such an educational experience. It brought the pages of Mandela's words to life for me and humbled me once again.

After grabbing lunch, Kenz and I caught a taxi to Central Station, where we rode a train to Kalk Bay. When Bradley took us to Kalk Bay a few days ago, Kenz and I were captivated by its artsy, eclectic, mountain-like (downtown Asheville,NC), beachy with colorful plantation-style homes (Charleston,SC), strip of coffee shops and bookshops, bohemian and hippie-like stores, and comforting atmosphere-so needless to say, we HAD to go back.

We spent all of our time at a store called "Oh So Boho". We found treasures and goodies (scarves, shawls, purses, etc.) that will forever remind us of our time in South Africa, I'm sure.

After shopping, Kenz and I went to the (apparently) well-known coffee shop with the "Hippies use side door" sign, called Olympia cafe. We relaxed as we sipped our cappuccinos and indulged on powdered sugar shortbread cookies. It was the most perfect cloudy-gray day, with a blue, but overcast afternoon with wind that faintly whispered in and out of the shop windows. It was one of those days that makes sitting at a small coffee shop all the more enjoyable.

Kenz and I couldn't stop smiling. We were giddy with excitement. I love this place. It reminded me how important it is to be in a place that brings you happiness and the importance of spending time with someone who brings out the best in you. I would love to live here one day, even if just for awhile.

Tonight, Bradley, Kenz, and I went to V&A waterfront and at a delicious Thai dinner. After dinner, we met up with Patrick and Danielle to see the new(ish?) 007 James Bond movie. It was just "alright", but was undoubtedly a treat to simply sit in a MOVIE THEATER, as it had been 4 months since my last movie-going experience.

Well, off to sleep...it's been a wonderfully long day!

~C