Johannesburg - If it’s September, then it’s heritage month, and if heritage, what better way than braaivleis? It’s an Afrikaans term for a uniquely South African pastime, except in eKasi (the townships) it’s called chisa nyama, literally “burn the meat”.
You can walk through Joburg and get some chisa nyama at an impromptu pavement café right in the middle of the bustling CBD, being grilled over braziers, or pop in to one of the mushrooming Chesa Nyama franchises all over the country.
If you’re in a township, look out for a nearby butchery. There’s a better than even chance that they’ll cook what you buy while you wait.
Then take a seat and wash it down with an ice-cold beer. There’s nothing that comes between South Africans and their meat.
Legendary 1879 battle recalled in Impi song
“All along the river, Chelmsford’s army lay asleep.” Thus begins Johnny Clegg’s unforgettable song Impi, written in 1981 about the battle of Isandlwana, 170km north-west of Durban, on January 22, 1879.
Clegg’s song was deeply subversive for the time, glorifying the resounding defeat of a white army at the hands of a black one – at the height of apartheid.
It was the biggest upset in British military history – a force of 22 000 Zulu warriors took on the might of the well-equipped and over-confident British army armed with nothing more than assegais and rusted muskets and slew them to a man.
It was an unforgettable rout that in typical British fashion is forever remembered for the brave stand that followed 16km away at Rorke’s Drift (and forever popularised by the 1964 film Zulu starring Stanley Baker and Michael Caine, with a very young Mangosuthu Buthelezi as King Cetshwayo), where injured British soldiers and a rag-tag bunch of colonials held off a determined Zulu assault for two days until relief arrived.
Both of them are the place of legend, for two different cultures. The British dished out Victoria Crosses by the armful to the defenders of Rorke’s Drift, but the shame of Isandlwana led to a reorganisation of British tactics and a brutal second phase of the Anglo- Zulu War that would forever lead to the subjugation of the proud nation.
Today, like battlefields the world over, there’s an eerie calm.
The 1 284m mountain which gives the place its name (literally the little hill) stands tall with the plains below dotted with white cairns bearing mute testimony to the carnage that played out, marking where some of the almost 2 500 soldiers, on both sides, perished.
Today, we remember Isandlwana almost inadvertently, because it’s the Springbok theme tune, blaring out over the grandstand every time the Boks run out.
Irony has never been a strong point for our rugby bosses. After last week’s unprecedented rout at the hands of the lowly Japanese, the reality coach Heyneke Meyer is more Chelmsford than Cetshwayo.
The Khoisan, hunter-gatherers who came before us all
The Khoisan are South Africa’s oldest human beings, the first citizens of this country immortalised in the centre of the country’s post-apartheid coat of arms, atop the national motto !ke e: /xarra //ke written in the Xam language and meaning “diverse people unite”.
The Khoisan community once stretched from Cape Town through the Northern Cape to Botswana, Namibia and Angola, but colonialism, war and modernisation decimated these ancient hunter-gatherers until today only small communities remain in parts of Angola, Namibia and Botswana.
The South African
communities live in the Kgalagadi Trans National Park north-east of Upington and a unique, formerly military community live in Platfontein outside Kimberley.
Soweto: cradle of our democracy
If the origins of man come from the Cradle of Humankind, then the fount of democracy – for South Africa at least – lies in the once-dusty sprawling mega-township south west of Joburg.
Soweto, an acronym for SOuth WEstern TOwnship, is an amalgamation of hostels and forced ethnic settlements dating back well before World War II, but which received a major impetus after the ascent of DF Malan’s apartheid National Party government in 1948.
The Nats tried to divide and rule, but never could. Instead, Kliptown became the focal point for the Freedom Charter in 1955, which not only provided the intellectual blueprint for the struggle against apartheid – for all South Africans, it would ultimately inspire and inform the drafters of our acclaimed post-apartheid constitution.
When the struggle was repressed and its leaders imprisoned or exiled, the youths of the massive township took to the streets, armed only with their indignation and challeneged heavily armed police. They would provide the spark that had been sorely lacking, but would pay dearly for it, dying or being forced into exile as the repression ratcheted up.
Today, Soweto is part and parcel of the greater Johannesburg metropolis, replete with malls and urban greening projects… and some of the best roads in the city.
It also has some of the most incredible heritage sites ; from the Hector Pieterson memorial or the Walter Sisulu Square at Kliptown, never forgetting Vilakazi Street, home to two Nobel Peace prize laureates, Archbishop emeritus Desmond Tutu and the late, great leader Nelson Mandela, which is today a national museum.
But if you’re looking for something even more special, take a wander down to the Oppenheimer Gardens and the ever-fascinating Credo Muthwa Cultural Village in its heart. When you’re there climb the Oppenheimer Tower, built with bricks from the demolished
houses of Sophiatown, and look out as far as you can see in any direction.
And when you’re finished, relax at one of the many speakeasies or shebeens and just soak up the legendary ekasi vibe.
Lest we forget an awful era
The apartheid museum is modern in every sense of the word, but documenting an age-old problem of racism, in particular the racism that made white South Africa the polecat nation of the world: apartheid or the statutory separation of races in everything from public amenities to residential areas, jobs and even basic services.
Situated in the south of Joburg on the old Crown Mines property, somewhat incongruously next to the Gold Reef City theme park and casino, the museum is a bucket list destination for foreign tourists.
Designed by architects Mashabane Rose to invoke the conditions on Robben Island, the museum is simultaneously depressing and uplifting, as visitors come as close as possible to the lived reality of racial discrimination in its particularly awful South African iteration. It is so profoundly upsetting that it is not recommended for children under 11. The 131 nooses hanging from the ceiling in one exhibition – representing the freedom fighters executed on Pretoria’s Death Row – are just one example.
It should be a required visit, if only to appreciate just how far we have come from the edge of the abyss in the past 21 years and just what a miracle April 27, 1994 was.
Hole of fortunes and heartbreak
It’s not the biggest hole in the world, it’s not even the biggest open pit diamond mine in the world – Cullinan outside Pretoria has that honour. What makes Kimberley’s Big Hole, the Big Hole, is the fact that it was hewn by hand using picks and shovels from what was once the Colesberg Kopje.
The dry diggings, as they were known, became an international sensation when news of what was the world’s richest diamond find became known in 1871.
Eventually, the hole itself would resemble a human ant nest with the cables of the various claim owners, used to haul the cocopans of diamondiferous rock to the surface, reminding curious onlookers of a giant spider’s web.
By the time the mine was closed just before World War I, the Big Hole or Kimberley Mine, to use its proper name, would have yielded 14 504 566 carats of diamonds, or three tons of stones, and made the fortunes of men whose legacies would endure to today and broken the hearts of thousands of others, destined to the scrapheap of history.
The biggest victor in the battle to control the diamond mines – and the world supply of the gem – would be Cecil Rhodes and the company he founded, De Beers.
Today Kimberley, the erstwhile diamond capital of the world, is a living monument to both, and the lovingly restored Big Hole complex, complete with modern museum, hotel, shops and pubs.
Magical glimpse across millions of years
The scientific world might be at each other’s throats about Homo naledi, pioneering Wits University palaeo-anthropologist Lee Berger’s latest discovery, but one thing is not disputed – the Cradle of Humankind, less than a half-hour’s drive from Joburg, is just that.
The caves in the area, particularly at Sterkfontein, have been a treasure trove of hominid finds, ever since Dr Robert Broom set out there just after World War II to help prove that his friend Professor Raymond Dart’s Taung Child wasn’t just a baboon skull.
Broom found Mrs Ples in 1947 – and the rest is history.
The story isn’t just the dry bones of the discovery, literally, but rather lovingly – and dramatically – brought to life at the Cradle’s visitors’ centre at Maropeng, complete with an interactive display that’s enthralling for all who see it.
For the full effect, though, nothing beats a trip down the actual caves themselves with an accredited guide, who can lead you through the mysteries and past the fathomless subterranean lake, pointing out the fabulous stalactites and stalagmites that give the main chamber the air of Ali Baba’s cave while patiently explaining the rows and the dramas that have accompanied each find.
Back on the surface, looking out across the rolling veld, you can breathe in and wonder at the little people who strode the very same earth, albeit with their eyes barely clearing the tips of the long grass, millions of years before.
And as you peer beyond the excavation trenches of the longest existing archaeological dig in the world, you might spare a thought for the person walking through the bush, who suddenly fell into a sinkhole plummeting to the bottom to die alone and in the dark – only to be discovered millions of years later, a perfect specimen.
Kevin Ritchie, Saturday Star