|
 One
night, over dinner, I sit across from Wanda*, the mother of
two beautiful children in an Eastern Cape Town township. I’d
stayed with them for a bit while working in the area. Both
her and her husband are originally from, and now live, in
the Eastern Cape of South Africa, the hardest hit area of
the country. Wanda tells me that at times she wakes up in
the middle of the night, crying, asking herself, “Why
can’t ‘they’ just accept us?” Her
eyes are tearing, and her husband tells me that he doesn’t
trust or appreciate whites. He doesn’t “feel comfortable”
around them, he says. Wanda’s husband had experienced
apartheid very intensely, very personally, very vividly.
Wanda and I spoke of white supremacy; of South African politics
and policies; of reparations; of Black Nationalism; of the
history of South Africa…our food ran cold. Wanda told
me she felt a sense of relief after the conversation over
dinner that night, and woke up in the morning refreshed, feeling
as though I’d proposed ideas and perspectives she’d
never considered, before. Her husband remained wary. The entire
conversation – the pregnant pauses, the heavy words,
the facial expressions -- allowed me to see how public policy
is not this mechanic, sterile, clinical application manipulated
in polity board rooms, but really something that impacts everyday
people on a very intimate and longstanding basis. It put a
face to politics.
Intro
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2 | Entry 3 | Entry 4 | Entry
5 | Entry 6 |
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