Looking Back – Apartheid Museum, Johannesburg

I recently visited the Apartheid Museum in the city of Johannesburg and it was an eye-opening experience for me. I decided to go on a whim, it was in an easy to reach location and I had some time to fill. I’d recommend that any other visitor to the city not employ the same accidental process but rather prioritise it.

Reflection.

I grew up in the 80’s. My recollections of what was happening in South Africa are limited to a few memories. Situations that seemed odd or wrong to me in my childlike thinking were quickly forgotten in the presence of my toys and friends and life. Sometimes, the only way we can cope with what doesn’t make sense is to shelve it into the recesses of the mind.

 

I entered into the turnstile gates of the museum, payed my R85, grabbed my ticket without even glancing at it and proceeded to the first plague. The Apartheid Museum tour starts in a courtyard with the 9 pillars of our constitution looming into the blue sky. Freedom and respect are the two words that I found most compelling to look at and photograph. They resonate with me.

 

Uncomfortable truth.

I got to the building entrance and I stopped. Dead still. In front of me were 2 gates. Above each is a sign. ‘Non-whites Only’ and ‘Whites Only’. My heart jumped straight out of my chest. I looked around to see if anyone felt as uncomfortable with this situation as I did. Most people were still staring up the pillars. A closer look at the instructions and I realise my ticket has been randomly assigned a non-white or white label. Mine says Non-white so I enter through that gate.

 

At this point I recall, those memories that are buried deep and that create a scar in my innocent childhood. The post office entrance with a ‘Whites-only’ sign. In town there was no visible barrier but everyone knew where the black shopping areas and the white shopping areas were. A particularly vivid memory was the separate consultation rooms at the doctor, it wasn’t just two different doors, black people had to go through the back entrance.

 

I don’t get to see what those that were assigned a ‘Whites Only’ ticket experience. It makes me feel a tiny bit like I’m missing out and that I should have been able to see both. I stop myself mid-thought because that is a minuscule idea of what it felt like for non-whites during Apartheid. Segregation. Keeping separate. Only a thin fence between the two, yet completely inaccessible for one group.

Change.

One of the craziest things I learnt about was a group of ‘chameleon’ people during the Apartheid regime. A chameleon can change its colour and apparently there were a number of people who were assigned a new race group, effectively changing colour. Amazing. Ridiculous. Confusing. Today you are defined as white, the next you are considered coloured (mixed race). The classification system, a flawed animal ready to devour sanity.

 

A passage, dotted with full length mirrors containing photographic images of people, leads you to a view over Johannesburg. Back inside the museum, the mirror personalities are revealed by boxes of memorabilia. They are the offspring of real people, whose stories give us an idea of how Apartheid impacted different groups of people in South Africa. The building is filled with images, imagery, words and sounds that help the visitor gain a more rounded perspective into South Africa’s checkered past. It is heart-breaking on one side and filled with hope for a more unified future on the other.

Hope.

Outside in the harsh light of the midday sun, I found respite in the veld garden. Here I reflected on my new knowledge, said a silent prayer of gratitude and pleaded with humanity. Please, let us learn from the past injustices and not repeat the madness.