The view from prison in South Africa
“The wind blows where it wants to. It does not have a dwelling place neither can it be contained. It is probably the ultimate symbol of freedom.”
These were my thoughts when I was waiting in the crowd of spectators at the annual Argus Bicycle tour in Cape Town, South Africa. The wind was blowing everything into nebulous images before my eyes. I had to concentrate very hard to spot my boyfriend amongst the tired cyclists speeding across the finish line. My phone rang, I missed him! We found one another in the crowd and the personal victory he experienced was not hanging around his neck, but shining from his eyes! We went to his car and the silence that came when the doors closed felt like victory to me!
Our week in Cape Town was packed with unforgettable activities. Abseiling from Table mountain, picnic in Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens, wine tasting, fine dining and sun bathing to name but a few. The highlight however was our trip to Robben Island. We boarded a ferry from the beautiful V&A Waterfront that took us to this small piece of land just off the Cape coast. The wind was doing one of her freedom dances around my head and I decided to join her instead of fighting her. The smells she brought were magnificent. Salty humid air with a touch of kelp and sea shell and the warm hand on my thigh was like a guard protecting his treasure.
I was not sure what to expect of this small piece of earth that played such a big role in shaping one of the worlds most influential leaders. The day I took my first breath Nelson Mandela was already serving 12 of his 18 years on Robben Island and unfortunately I was born with the skin colour of the oppressor. It was in my youthful ignorant teenage years that I first laid eyes on Nelson Mandela. I still remember the day when he was released from prison. He was smiling and waving to the world. My parents anticipated a civil war at the time but nothing of the sort happened. The wind was calm in Cape Town that day, but the wind of change that went out before him carried the seeds of a new era into the troubled Southern tip of Africa. And what followed was the transformation of an entire country.
Robben Island is the summit of an ancient mountain that is now submerged in the traitorous waters of the Cape of Storms. It is 2 miles long and 1.1 miles wide. The Dutch name means “seal island” and on your way there with the ferry, you are bound to spot a Cape Fur Seal or even a Southern Right Whale or Dolphin. There are 132 species of birds on the island and 23 species of mammals, including tortoise, various types of buck, snakes, lizards and spiders. It was used as a prison from the 17th century until 1996 and became a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1999.
We arrived at the Island with mixed emotions that leaped from guilt, joy, liberation and humility. Are we going to be seen as typical white South Africans whose ancestors invented Apartheid or will we be seen as the next generation who wants to set things straight? The first thing I saw was the motto of the prison written in black on white; ‘We serve with pride’. We started the tour of the island and met up with our guide who was a former political prisoner on Robben Island. We visited the exercise yard and the main communal cell block where political prisoners often shared accommodation with criminal inmates. The famous cell number 5 was the highlight of the tour, the small space where Nelson Mandela lived for almost 20 years of his life. The bed roll and blankets were neatly standing in place next to the iron sanitary bucket. On a small wooden table was his plate and cup.
The air conditioned bus was like a shot in the arm after the hot and intense tour through the prison. We drove past the limestone quarry where prisoners worked during the day as well as the Lepers’ Graveyard. The view of Table Mountain with the city of Cape Town nestled at her feet was breathtaking. I wanted to linger a bit longer to absorb all the sights, sounds and smells of the moment, but we had to go. Our last stop was the souvenir shop where I saw a striking photograph of Mandela with a Christo Brand, a white warden who he befriended while in prison. There I saw a man with great character who saw through colour into another’s heart and on our way back with the ferry, my personal journey was contained by this historical tour of significance. I felt free to serve my fellow country men and liberated to practice the ministry of reconciliation.
Cowards die many times before their deaths.
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear,
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come.
– Nelson Mandela’s favorite part from Julius Caesar 2.2.32-7
About the author
I am a freelance writer/journalist with a passion for travel. Both physical and emotional journeys inspire me.
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