Robben Island

February 16, 2018

            Yesterday we took a ferry to Robben Island and visited the cell Nelson Mandela stayed in for 18 of his 27 years of captivity. The island had been in use as a prison for 170 years, and before this, it had been a leper colony, so its many birds and fields of abalone and its penguins belie its use as an isolated prison fortress.

            On the bus ride around the island, our tour guide was Ntombi, and she was so clear and well spoken and she phrased ideas with such elegance and clarity, I kept having to look over to her to see that she wasn’t reading but speaking extemporaneously.

            There were four prisons, Ntombi said. The main one, the one that held Nelson Mandela, was the maximum security prison, #2, built by prisoners themselves over the leper graveyard (though 1,500 visible leper graves still remain). The Robert Sobukwe House was the smallest of these prisons during Apartheid times. Here’s what she said about Robert Sobukwe: In the 1950s, Ntombi explained, Pass Laws restricted the movement of Black people in South Africa and demanded they at all times carry a pass, called dompas--dumb pass--containing name, age, and ethnic group. Police could stop Blacks at any time, and the first question police would ask is, Where is your dompas? If you were caught without, you would be charged 60 rand (three months wages), or, failing that, six months in jail. Robert Sobukwe said, Why carry the dompas in your own country? You have humanity. So leave the dompas at home. Go to the police station and demand to be arrested. Thousands of people then overwhelmed the police stations, which, on the 21st of March, led to the protests at Sharpeville in which the police shot and killed 69 people. March 21st is now Human Rights Day. And it was the last day of Sobukwe’s freedom. He was detained without trial--not for what he did, Ntombi said, but for what he could do. He was brought to Robben Island as, officially, a visitor in 1963. When asked how many political prisoners were held in Robben Island, the answer was 1000, plus one. Sobukwe was surrounded by guards who were not allowed to talk to him and who would get rotated out so no friendships would occur. Sobukwe fought for Africa, Ntombi said, not South Africa; he fought for one race--the human race.

            Later Ntombi brought us to the limestone quarry, where political prisoners like Nelson Mandela chipped rock with a pickaxe and shovel. There was no use for this limestone, which was too flaky, except to be the source of a hard labor, for eight hours a day in any weather. There were no gloves, no eye protection, sun reflected off the white stone at every hour, and eventually the dust clogged Mandela’s eye ducts so that he was no longer able to express tears when he cried. But something very important happened at the quarry, Ntombi said. Education was critical to hope and survival, and the cave, which was used for lunch and bathroom breaks, became “the classroom.” But they held their urine so they could keep the cave dignified and clean, and there, the cave became the university of life. Each one, teach one, an idea that became very clear later in the tour and then later on the bus on the way home, as we thought of some of the lessons of the day.

            A former prisoner led us into prison #2 itself. He was warm and dynamic, and passed easily from laughing with us about Valentines to describing the several kinds of torture he experiences as a prisoner--kicking, electroshock, suffocation, chemical burning, whipping, and more. He told us that people would be imprisoned for two years just for being a member of the African National Congress, but there were many ways to add on years from there. Later, I wondered what the ANC was like for them now, as Jacob Zuma stepped down the night before and the ANC stands for so much corruption. Quinn said that her mama had said, I don’t care if the ANC dies as long as the corruption ends--an incredible statement, given how much it meant at the time, how much people paid for its existence. It was the revolution, Quinn said, and now it’s not.

            At one point a young woman asked our former prisoner guide what kept him doing this? What led him to come back day after day to a prison that had once tormented him so deeply and brutally? He admitted many of his friends don’t want to hear the name Robben Island even pronounced. And he said it once was hard for him too. But it’s a job, he said, and this way he could tell as many people as possible what had happened here to support a government system of racial division and control.

            Then we went to Mandiba’s cell. Louis later pointed out that we were told Nelson Mandela’s cell would be the fourth from the right; and we had to be told this; because when we went into the hall, every cell looked exactly the same. There was nothing to distinguish the cell where the future president and present hero would live 17 years of his life--just the same blanket, the same metal bowl on little white table, the same green walls. It must have been a deliberate choice, the students reflected. We’ve made a legend of the experiences and sufferings of a man encountered by many, and attribute leadership to a man who shared it, and one who believes humility, humanity, and ubuntu were the necessary elements to transform South Africa. It wasn’t just he who changed South Africa, students reflected. Yes, I pointed out, and this is why the idea of Each one, teach one is so important.

            And what we must take back. Polly wants us to give to our ancestors for sharing their wisdom, experiences and stories, and she provides small gifts she makes to all our guides as a way of acknowledging their wisdom and their stories and giving back. The importance education, of learning the stories and their wisdom, of passing on the struggle in our knowledge and our action, each one, teach one, is something I think our students are starting to feel.