Part 1 of 10
Golf. This four-letter word in isolation, conjures starkly different thoughts depending on who hears or reads it.
For some, it will trigger exciting memories of boys-only golf weekends along the pristine garden route – home to Fancourt, South Africa’s Number 1 ranked golf course, or a celebrity Pro-Am he played in. It may evoke memories of numerous Saturdays spent with the boys at their Golf Club Competition, or the nostalgia of Provincial golf union tournaments played in as teen.
For others, and by others, I mean a vast number of the South African population, “golf” will be triggering.
Triggering of the time no blacks were allowed to play on golf courses. Triggering of the memory that at one point in history, being black and on a golf course almost certainly meant you’re either a caddy, labourer, or trespasser – or it will simply mean absolutely nothing to them at all.
This dichotomy exists because historically, golf was exclusively reserved for whites. Wealthy white or European men to be precise.
So as a coloured child from a middle-income home on the Cape Flats, how did I happen upon golf? Growing up, I had a cousin and uncle (father and son) who played golf. To contextualise this, my uncle was an entrepreneur of more affluent means. That successful uncle or aunt some of us were fortunate to have to look up to as we grew up.
When visiting their home, I’d always admire their golf bags and equipment. There was an alluring magnetism about it for me.
My cousin played since his school days, and he played well. In fact, as a young teen he played with Trevor Immelman (a former South African Pro Golfer, now PGA commentator, who won the coveted US Master’s Tournament in 2008).
Will you believe me when I tell you that my cousin, (yes, my cousin!) beat Trevor in their youth? Well, he did.
So why don’t you know my cousin then you might ask? Why didn’t this cousin of mine go on to become a Pro golfer himself? I’ll address this topic in a later story in this series…
So that was how my attraction to the sport began, at the age of about ten or eleven years old.
A couple years later, a friend came to my house with some golf clubs and balls in hand. He asked me to join him to hit some balls on a field a few doors from my home. The clubs belonged to his dad, who too was a recreational golfer.
Unlike my uncle though, his dad worked as a caddy at Metropolitan golf course during the Apartheid era, and as a young man who grew up close to that golf course, that was one of very few options he had to earn a living. That’s how and why he started playing golf.
So, there we were, standing on a patchy triangular-shaped field, surrounded by houses, with his dad’s golf clubs and balls in hand. Mind you, I never actually held a golf club before. I’ve only ever admired my uncle and cousin’s equipment from afar. And through what golf I saw on TV when at their house – but never dared to ask if I could touch it. My parents would warn my younger brother and I not to touch the expensive stuff at my uncle’s place – fearing our mischievous selves would break it.
Nonetheless, whoosh! I swing wildly and miss hitting the ball in catastrophic failure! Swing and miss. Swing, and barely hit the ball a few meters, seemed to be the pattern I was creating. I was becoming tired, frustrated, and disinterested to be honest. “Is this really the game I was so drawn to?” I thought to myself, but kept on going.
Then, probably at my fiftieth attempt, swing, swoosh, and boom! I hit a perfect shot! I looked up after that crisp strike with a 5-iron, following the ball travelling like a missile through the air. To my amazement, it seemed like the ball travelled forever, until it landed on the roof of a house about 100m from where I was standing. That shot, at the age of about thirteen or fourteen years old, was the exact moment I fell in love with golf.
Needless to say, I spent many more days on that and other fields in and around my neighbourhood, hitting golf balls. Why hit balls on a field you might ask? Because the reality for many youth growing up on the Cape Flats is that, while everyone is afforded an equal right to opportunities, accessing those opportunities are not inherently equal, or even possible.
Opportunities such as accessing golf courses, that’s all located in leafy suburban areas. Far from communities like Mandalay where I grew up.
To demonstrate this point, the first time I was on a golf course, I was well into my twenties. More than ten years after falling in love with golf. I was invited by my then (now late) CEO to join him at a Dti (Department of Trade & Industry) golf day hosted at Pearl Valley - currently ranked the second-best golf course in South Africa. I was incredibly fortunate to receive this opportunity, and this experience ultimately embalmed my love for golf.
But so far removed from this exclusive rich boy’s club was I, that I arrived at the golf day in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. The same clothes I intended to play in until I was promptly advised by the golf manager, who stood lofted on a balcony looking down at the swarming crowd of testosterone-loaded golfers and yelled over a microphone, “You! You in the jeans! That’s not acceptable golf attire. Please change or you won’t be allowed to play.”
And that’s how I found out jeans isn’t allowed on the golf course, and promptly went into the pro shop to purchase golf pants with the only R600 I had to spare at the time. What a stroke of luck that it was on sale too! That was a lot of money for me. Especially when I never intended to spend it all on one thing – let alone one pair of pants!
Thank goodness all golfers were gifted Dti branded golf t-shirts! Else I’d have needed to ask my CEO to purchase one for me since the crew neck I intended to play in wouldn’t have cut the mustard either.
I still have and wear those pants though. So, in hindsight I guess it was a good investment. And on a lighter note, golf has kept me in good physical shape, allowing me to still fit into those very same pants more than ten years later.
Follow Jehad’s Far From Par series every Tuesday.
Far From Par is a ten-part series by about the grassroots development of golf in South Africa.
For decades golf was a sport reserved for white men - for both leisure and professional expression.
Sadly, after nearly 30 years of democracy, apart from it now being open to all, not much has changed to foster meaningful transformation.
This series explores the importance of, challenges faced and status quo of grassroots golf development and transformation in South Africa.
IOL