Day 4, Monday, May 20, 2013:
A day of bad news and good news. No trip to Pilanesburg, but I am able to get booked for a day tour of Johannesburg and Soweto. The tour guide picks me up in his van and we go to another hotel to pick up three others. A nice intimate group. I’m a happy camper. Since I am the first stop I get the choice of seats. I decide to ride shotgun with my guide, Joseph. A long wait at the other hotel; after which the guide comes out with the news that the others are no shows. I’m an even happier camper. He’s not happy though as he reports the development to his boss. He begins to tell me that his boss will be adjusting my rate since I will now be getting a private tour. I’m no longer a happy camper. I discovered quickly during my research for this trip that rates aren’t static. The amount is based on the number in the group. More people equals lower rate. I’m about to argue the American premise that “a deal is a deal” when Joseph gets a phone call back. The other group is back at their hotel and ready for a pick up. I’m relieved to avoid a money argument, but a bit a disappointed I won’t be enjoying the sole attention of my guide. My disappointed is allayed when the 3 ladies finally come out. Please note I am making no comment at this point :-). Two are from Syria and the other is from India. They couldn’t be friendlier. I put aside any thought of asking about the troubles in their part of the world. I remind myself that they are trying to relax the same as me.
We take a long and thorough tour of the city’s various districts that lasts most of the day. Like Dallas, it’s a fairly new city that grew as a result of the gold discoveries in the late 19th century.
It was exciting to see Mandela’s current house (we would see his former home in Soweto later).
Joseph is particularly proud of the soccer stadium. Excitement here for football (soccer) far exceeds anything back home about Super Bowl or Final Four, etc.
We also see the twin towers from the old power station that was the site of a jump shown on an episode of The Amazing Race. I had to feign interest, since I only saw the show once in the first season. Then we move on to Soweto. It’s not what I thought. There is poverty, but some of the area is very affluent now and also has a middle class as well. The areas of poverty are poignant.
There is so much life and spirit in evidence in contrast to the surroundings. Many people smile and wave as we drive by. Joseph invites us to take as many photos as we like, but it seems intrusive to me. I take a few quick shots to remember what I have seen. One picture I could not resist was of a very small boy that stopped as pulled up to the curb for a short talk from Joseph. He was so engaging with his dirty face. The ladies were cooing over him. He waves to us and looks at us as if wondering what we’re about. One of the ladies offers him a cookie which he takes with another smile. We drive on leaving him a bit perplexed.
We pass Mandela’s first home on Vilakazi Street.
He lived there prior to his imprisonment and, for a short while, after his release. He had to move to his other home for security and so life could continue in the township. The story goes that every morning huge crowds would gather outside his house. Each morning he would come out to urge them to go to work. No, they would say, we must make our greetings to you first. We also see Bishop Tutu’s home former home on the same street. Quite a proving ground of great minds. Our last stop is at the Hector Pieterson Museum. This place commemorates the young boy that was shot during the student protests on June 16, 1976.
Because of our late start we only have 30 minutes to spare. It wasn’t enough time. It’s a very solemn place. So much of what occurred reminded me of the civil rights protests at home that I recall as a child and, later, in the 1970’s. It illustrated so well what happens when the need for justice and respect falls headlong against the cold indifference of intolerance. I’ve lost myself in there.
Only when I glance at my watch to see how much time I have left do I see that the time is past. I race out to the van ready with my apologies. There sits Joseph alone. The ladies are across the street haggling with the vendors for the various wares on sale.
I decline the opportunity to join them to chat with Joseph. We entertain ourselves as we watch and comment on the gesticulating and bantering that is taking place when we aren’t talking about the world’s events. Only when he starts the van do they break it off and get in for our ride back to the hotel. We just beat the traffic (which rivals anything I have seen in Dallas). Joseph tells me the 30 minute drive I had from the airport would take 1.5 – 2 hours during the rush hour!
It was a very long day. My plans to go out for dinner will be postponed until I return next week. Joseph gave me a tip on a restaurant specializing in African cuisine. Instead, I’ll enjoy the hors d'oeuvres in the lounge (where I am as I type this) before going down to the restaurant for a meal. I’ll return to the room to pack for my trip by plane to Cape Town on Tuesday; starting the second chapter of my adventure.
It was exciting to see Mandela’s current house (we would see his former home in Soweto later). 
Joseph is particularly proud of the soccer stadium. Excitement here for football (soccer) far exceeds anything back home about Super Bowl or Final Four, etc. 
We also see the twin towers from the old power station that was the site of a jump shown on an episode of The Amazing Race. I had to feign interest, since I only saw the show once in the first season. Then we move on to Soweto. It’s not what I thought. There is poverty, but some of the area is very affluent now and also has a middle class as well. The areas of poverty are poignant. 
There is so much life and spirit in evidence in contrast to the surroundings. Many people smile and wave as we drive by. Joseph invites us to take as many photos as we like, but it seems intrusive to me. I take a few quick shots to remember what I have seen. One picture I could not resist was of a very small boy that stopped as pulled up to the curb for a short talk from Joseph. He was so engaging with his dirty face. The ladies were cooing over him. He waves to us and looks at us as if wondering what we’re about. One of the ladies offers him a cookie which he takes with another smile. We drive on leaving him a bit perplexed. 
We pass Mandela’s first home on Vilakazi Street. 
He lived there prior to his imprisonment and, for a short while, after his release. He had to move to his other home for security and so life could continue in the township. The story goes that every morning huge crowds would gather outside his house. Each morning he would come out to urge them to go to work. No, they would say, we must make our greetings to you first. We also see Bishop Tutu’s home former home on the same street. Quite a proving ground of great minds. Our last stop is at the Hector Pieterson Museum. This place commemorates the young boy that was shot during the student protests on June 16, 1976. 
Because of our late start we only have 30 minutes to spare. It wasn’t enough time. It’s a very solemn place. So much of what occurred reminded me of the civil rights protests at home that I recall as a child and, later, in the 1970’s. It illustrated so well what happens when the need for justice and respect falls headlong against the cold indifference of intolerance. I’ve lost myself in there. 
Only when I glance at my watch to see how much time I have left do I see that the time is past. I race out to the van ready with my apologies. There sits Joseph alone. The ladies are across the street haggling with the vendors for the various wares on sale. 
I decline the opportunity to join them to chat with Joseph. We entertain ourselves as we watch and comment on the gesticulating and bantering that is taking place when we aren’t talking about the world’s events. Only when he starts the van do they break it off and get in for our ride back to the hotel. We just beat the traffic (which rivals anything I have seen in Dallas). Joseph tells me the 30 minute drive I had from the airport would take 1.5 – 2 hours during the rush hour!
It was a very long day. My plans to go out for dinner will be postponed until I return next week. Joseph gave me a tip on a restaurant specializing in African cuisine. Instead, I’ll enjoy the hors d'oeuvres in the lounge (where I am as I type this) before going down to the restaurant for a meal. I’ll return to the room to pack for my trip by plane to Cape Town on Tuesday; starting the second chapter of my adventure.
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