After a short Uber yesterday, we found ourselves at the trailhead to hike up Table Mountain, the iconic backdrop for the city of Cape Town. After a long stare up the ragged edge of the cliffs, we started along the trail. It was arduous and breath-taking (literally). For the first hour of the hike, visibility was clear, expectations were high, and altogether we were in good spirits. However, just like with any long hike, about halfway up I started to become a sentimental pastoralist, beginning to feel comically and ironically close to the nature surrounding me. I took in the vista with hope and enthusiasm as the skyscrapers below were becoming smaller and smaller. Just as I was settling into this mindset a sudden fog developed at the base of the mountain. The mist slowly rose to our elevation and overcame everything around us, blocking out the world beyond a ten-foot radius. And I was disappointed--this meant the view from the top would be like staring at a blank sheet of paper excep
While surveying South Africa, whether as a tourist or an historian, it is impossible to not view the remnants of apartheid. Considering apartheid--forced and violent segregation along racial lines--fell only 23 years ago, the fragments of such a system persist in various forms. I find it important to explain what I've seen to you. Apartheid ruled every aspect of life. Through our experience of speaking and engaging with those who lived in that time, it is almost impossible to put yourself in their shoes. They speak of using a separate bathroom, or being abused by police, or being searched for their pass book to see if they are in the wrong place at the wrong time, or being forcibly removed from homes or family members. These things are not the passive forms of discrimination we see frequently today. They are intentional, in your face, discriminatory acts--with no motivation but pigment of skin. Not even blood or violence would stop such a motivation. It is impossible for me to