Welcome to the Rainbow Nation

My parents were immigrants to the UK, arriving from South Africa by boat in September 1977, just in time to ‘enjoy’ an English winter. Driven out of the country by the violence that marred the apartheid years - and more specifically by the threats against my mother’s family by the Security Services, her father being a prominent anti-apartheid activist – they had decided early in their marriage that they didn’t want to bring their children up in South Africa. I was born 10 months after they moved to England.

For years we were unable to go back; my grandfather had escaped the country (in the boot of a diplomat’s car!) shortly after I was born in 1978, and there were warrants out for his arrest. Nevertheless, I grew up in a house filled with African artifacts, with paintings of this strange and faraway country on the walls, and being told endless stories of my parents’ South African childhoods and my grandparents’ involvement in the anti-apartheid movement. Then, in 1991, apartheid was dismantled. But it was to be 1999 before my parents could afford to visit (separately, having long divorced), 22 years after first setting sail. And it wasn’t until 2001 that I was able to ‘return’ to a homeland I had never seen.

That first visit was fraught with emotion; on the plane over I didn’t sleep a wink, too excited and daunted by the prospect of finally seeing South Africa. My various relatives still in the country indulged my desire to see all the places my parents had lived, worked, studied, met, married… and my wonderful mum and dad had both sent me with a pack of written reminisces, so that as I stood outside their old homes or schools, I could read their stories of skinned knees, family parties and childhood friends as if they were standing next to me. By the end of my journey I felt as if some missing pieces of the puzzle that make up me had been found and slotted into place.

Since my first trip I have been back only once, for a few days in July 2004 to attend the funeral of my beloved grandpa. This summer’s trip has been both long-planned (and long-overdue) and rather rushed. After all, I should have been on a plane to America right about now! So far I have found the country greatly changed compared to 2001, when the legacy of apartheid was still ever-present. Now, there is a visible black middle class in Durban, and crowds of multi-ethnic school children in neat uniforms bring a tear to my eye. But the old divisions remain, and biting my tongue when South African relatives raise the topic of race takes a spectacular amount of self-control. But South Africa is a complex, beautiful, fascinating country that I am always glad to visit.