Behind Barred Windows

Last Monday I attended a meeting with the SA Police Department at their Headquarters in ElDorado. They requested my help in planning an event to celebrate child protection awareness week. They have been planning a large Braii for the community at large to attend. The past few Mondays I have spent in participating in their meetings and planting suggestions to the Inspectors. The experience alone has brought so much insight to the work I'm doing here. Typically I am transported with no problems becuase my aunt is the leading chairperson for the police department. Meetings are not held without her presence, and she now insists I must also be there. Typically, we ride in a very nice SUV that hides the ruts in the road well. Most of the hour long drive is on unpaved, gravel road with nothing but bushland and birds along the way. Nonetheless, I keep my eyes peeled for giraffe or baboons along the way.

This past Monday, however, was quite a different experience. We rode in an actual police vehicle with bright green stripes and an on duty officer at the wheel. My entire village stopped to stare as I was transported by police out of Makgato so early on a Monday. I smiled and waved, hoping they understood I was not under arrest, but the look on their faces makes it hard to know for sure. When attending the meeting, almost nobody came and they had a massive amount of food for us all. When leaving, however, many asked to hitch a ride back to the village in the police vehicle. As transportation is limited, it was of course no problem. However, this meant not much space for us all. I watched as the beautiful, cushioned suv drove off and and large, mini bus type vehicle showed up with barred windows, propane tanks in the back and nothing but tin rippled flooring in the back. I looked at my Aunt Jane, adn she said, "A Re Ya, Lethabo! Let's go." I laughed, and said, "In the back!" She said, yes, it's fine. She took my white sweater, used it to wipe off a very dirty dusty bench, and said, "There, it's okay!" I laughed adn said okay. I had them help me into the back of the police truck where it was dark, uncomfortable adn I had to lean over to sit without bumping my head. The windows are barred with netting, making your visibility pretty hazy. I scooted over waiting for her to join me, but instead, the large metal door was slammed shut and there I was, locked in the back of a South African Police Vehicle in the middle of nowhere. My aunt, it seems found room inside the passenger cab and squeezed herself right in there! Two other women joined me back there, whom I don't know and as they laughed adn rambled on in Sepedi, too fast for me to hear, I braced myself against large tires and gas tanks as we pulled away. The hour long ride I've come to look forward to became a nightmare in a matter of seconds. My head hit against the window more times than I can count, I couldn't hear over the rattling of the windows and gravel and all i could do was lean forward, with my fingers hanging through the barred window. As I tried to see the world passing by outside, I realized this is how they transport prisoners. There is nothing but shaking, bumping and gas tanks that shift from one side to the other of the back of the truck. Not knowing where I was or how far we were from home, I realized that I have never behind barred windows like this before.
Protecting my head from the shaking of the vehicle, I closed my eyes and laughed, waiting until I was able to get out and see the light of day again.

As I walked home that early evening, I boiled water to take a bath and thought again about how my vision was so blurred in that vehicle. Stretching my back and laughing at the irony that the first time I've been thrown in the back of a police car is in South Africa, I went to open my windows for some fresh air. I realized, with a shock, that my windows in my home are also barred, my door is barred and virtually every home and yard I've seen in all of South Africa is also barred. It struck me as odd that I'm living behind barred windows every day, yet I don't see them anymore. It took a rattling bench and unpaved road for it to sink in that my life now is behind barred windows. Here in South Africa, it's apparent every day how their freedom is so different from my own. I've never looked out from the inside of a barred room. I've never gone a day where I'm unable to see daylight by choice. And I've never known what it's like to feel so afraid that a culture has adapted fencing and security as part of their lifestyle.

Before Apartheid ended, black South Africans had to have a pass to walk through certain streets. Without one, they were often arrested and held without reason, or killed in the streets. Dogs were taught to attack anyone who was black and they walked with their head down, belittled and abused every day of their life for decades on end. It's no wonder their is such fear instilled here. I only hope one day South Africa will be able to open their window and see clearly all that is in front of them, with no bars on their windows, nothing blocking their footsteps and nobody but their own shadow following them in the streets.