14 April 1986: Black Sash – South African White Women Against Apartheid

17 April 1986, 10:30 AM, Kloofwaters Farm in the Magaliesburg Range

This Monday, I rode with Bill Urmson to downtown Johannesburg again.  In addition to doing personal errands, I visited the offices of Black Sash.  This organization was founded in 1955 by white English-speaking women to protest apartheid.  These gutsy ladies would stand in small groups in South African cities wearing black sashes over one shoulder and sober expressions.  The black sashes were expressions of their mourning the erosion of non-white constitutional rights.  Their silent, non-violent protests were frequently photographed by the foreign press which was exactly the sort of attention they sought in their attempt to show the world that there was significant descent among South African whites over the unjust treatment of the non-white population.  They also hoped to shame other South African whites into opposing apartheid.  The women often carried placards calling for the release of various political prisoners.  Because the women where white and non-violent, the police mostly left them alone.  Now that most groups have given up on passive resistance as a tool for change in South Africa, Black Sash has largely become a sort of counseling organization to help blacks with passbook, employment, or related problems. 

Black Sash protest along a South African street.  Source:  “60 Years of Black Sash”, an exhibition at the University of Cape Town, 2015. 

Upon entering Black Sash’s cramped downtown offices, I saw about 50 blacks seated in a waiting room waiting for assistance.  A white staff member spotted my white face while I was standing near the entrance and ushered me in to see a counselor immediately when she learned I was an American writer.  In a 12x12 foot room, four counselors (two white women, a black woman, and a black man) and a couple of black interpreters (many South African blacks speak little English or Afrikaans) were seated at desks and were each advising a black client of his or her rights.  I sat next to Christine, a woman of about 30 who had immigrated to South Africa from Munich, Germany several years ago.  A 25ish, rotund black woman explained to Christine that she was having problems getting a 10-1-B stamp in her passbook from the local authorities.  The woman had worked illegally in Jo’burg for several years.  Christine told her that she had every right to this stamp which qualified her for urban rights – the right to be in Johannesburg and work here.  Christine said she must assertively explain to officials that she qualified for the stamp.  The officials just try to make it hard for these people, Christine explained to me.  If they are meek and accepting, they will be turned away, but if they act as if they know their rights, the officials will usually give in.  But, of course, government functionaries aren’t being paid to make life easy for black people.  She said they also frequently deal with black workers who are denied unemployment benefits because their former employer simply fails to register them. 

The purpose of my visit to Black Sash was to get advice on how to meet some black South Africans and see how they live.  It was becoming apparent that it was easy for me to meet and talk to white English-speakers, but that was giving me a slanted view of the country.  Christine sent me downstairs to meet Blyth Makhoana who works for the Witwatersrand Council of Churches.  I showed this cordial black man my letters from newspapers interested in stories about South Africa.  When he was convinced I was legit, he escorted me to the fourth floor to meet Dolly Makau with the South African Council of Churches (SACC).  Ms. Makau explained that I needed to speak with Miss Masepeke Mapule who handles the Ecumenical Visitors Programme of SACC.  They could make arrangements for me to visit townships and talk with black people about their lives.  Miss Mapule wasn’t in but I could phone her to make arrangements.

It was raining much of the day on Monday, and I was glad I had packed my cagoule that morning.  Around 12:45 PM, I found a Lombardy East double-decker bus for the 50-minute ride back to my suburb.  On the way, the bus’s route took us through Orange Grove, a white middle class residential area with small- to medium-sized, red brick homes with corrugated tin or red tile roofs.  The homes were relatively well-kept.  Some had swimming pools.  There was a good view of the hills on the southeast side of the city.       

My overall impressions of Johannesburg after a couple visits?  One sees far more blacks on the streets than in a city like San Diego – the black/white ratio is probably closer to Detroit.  But the racial geographical distribution is the opposite of Detroit’s.  Instead of blacks living in the inner city and whites in the suburbs, residential areas close to downtown Jo’burg are technically 100% white.  Non-whites must live in designated townships away from the city.  There is even a suburban township for Asian Indians and Chinese called Lenasia.  Of course, there are white suburbs like Lombardy East and numerous non-whites live in Johannesburg illegally while landlords look the other way.  The blacks on the streets of the city range from beggars to business-suited types.  Blacks by the hundreds are congregated around the Putco black commuter bus station at the south end of the Queen Elizabeth Bridge.  Putco buses are the Transvaal’s lifeline for cheap black labor. 

Johannesburg seems similar to many relatively clean modern American cities its size.  It has a nice “feel” to it.  Somewhat cosmopolitan, a variety of shops, and big city hustle-bustle.  I enjoy the city – the people-watching opportunities, the skyscrapers, modern Wits university campus, busy rail yards, cheap and tasty fast food from little shops, the mild weather, the slightly-hip atmosphere of Hillbrow, double-decker buses, friendly people, the hilly setting, trees and gardens abounding, and residential neighborhoods with red tile roofs.  But is it fair that a silly thing like skin color determines whether one is able to fully enjoy the city’s amenities? 

To the casual observer, there is little evidence that Jo’burg is a powder keg disguised as modern major metropolis.  It’s hard for me to visualize that this edifice of capitalism could be destroyed or radically changed.  What will happen to this prosperous city if a violent revolution comes or if a left-wing black government is able to seize power?  Will Johannesburg become another Beirut (also once a prosperous, modern city, you might remember)?  Is there any hope for the future of this city and this country?  I vacillate back and forth on this question.