Try, Beloved Country

Rumors of South Africa's decline are greatly exaggerated.

John Blundell from the August/September 2004 issue

(Page 2 of 5)

A multitude of cultural influences exists side by side in South Africa. At a supermarket in the Parkmore suburb (where our car was thoughtfully observed from a 30-foot-high iron watchtower by a private, probably armed security guard), each product is available in a mix of local, British, and American brands (except for the candy, which for some reason was predominantly British).

On a Sunday morning walk around an outdoor arts and crafts fair in a local suburban park, I was struck first by how many large, loud, and unruly dogs were being walked, second by the fast food corner: Just next to the stall selling biltong (a local dried meat product similar to jerky) was a donut booth (U.S.) and a sausage roll stand (U.K.) where the meat was encased in pastry. (If you don't already enjoy them, it's best not to ask.)

On the first day of my return to South Africa following an eight-year absence, from the shadows of the monster-sized police station -- it would dwarf London's New Scotland Yard -- we drove through the declining Central Business District. "Johannesburg picked up her skirts and moved to Sandton," explained Theresa Griessel, my Afrikaans-born friend and volunteer guide for that day. Sandton, in the north of the city, has been transformed from sleepy agricultural land to a busy new cluster that is home to many of South Africa's top companies, such as Investec and Old Mutual, as well as the Johannesburg Securities Exchange.

Our destination was the high-tech Rivonia Park, which looks like something out of Florida more than out of Africa. We were greeted by 36-year-old birthday boy Mthunzai Mdwaba. Originally a lawyer, today Mdwaba heads Sourceman Technology Solutions, whose client list features many of the giants of the computer industry: Cisco, Microsoft, Oracle, Open Source, Citrix, CompTIA. Sourceman also has a division that provides computer training for 1,000 youngsters.

"You provide this education for profit?" I asked in surprise. "Yes," he replied, explaining that, compared to any state agency, "we get better placement percentages!"

Now president of the historically white Information Technology Association, Mdwaba said his goal for the country is to create "an economic rainbow nation." "The dominant theme of public life," he explained, "is transformation and black economic empowerment. Unlike [Robert] Mugabe [in Zimbabwe], we have made some good strides in returning land to the people."

Driving Lessons

Soweto, which stands for "Southwest Township," is the hugely populous black township outside Johannesburg where many of the city's workers live. Driving through the neighborhoods there, I was struck by how utterly different the homes looked. On previous visits, in 1984--�85 and 1995, I had seen nothing but overgrown matchboxes in identical military-style lines. Today it's hard to find an unimproved house "where the steel government door has not been replaced by a nice wooden one," as one white South African friend put it. "Once they own it, they go home with a tin of paint, not a bottle of brandy," he added. It is a winning advertisement for the benefits of private property and the pride of home ownership.

But much still remains to be done to encourage private property in South Africa. While whites have always been free to dispose of their land as they see fit, whether by sale, donation, or inheritance, blacks were not free to do so under apartheid. Improvements, while noticeable, are slow. For instance, those who squat on tribal land under "permission to occupy" rules are still subject to severe restrictions on their ability to transfer their rights to other people.

If land was acquired with state assistance, the right to sell is often curtailed (for fear that people will sell the land and squander the cash). Lack of access to financing is another constraint, as banks are very reluctant to get involved in the low-income housing market. And the bureaucracy has moved at a glacial pace: In 1992 the government announced that houses would be transferred to existing occupants, but the first title deeds were not issued until a full 10 years later, and 750,000 South Africans are still waiting.

More is wrong with the South African economy than lack of property rights. Despite shopping malls such as Sandton City Centre and Sandton Square, which give any-thing I've seen in Europe or North America a run for its money, evidence abounds that this is still a developing nation.

As I was told by Michael MacDonald, the white manager of Norman's Toyota car dealership, the country's dearth of public transit means an estimated 30 percent to 50 percent of the average net wages of blacks are spent paying for work commutes, which frequently take several hours a day. I was so staggered by this estimate that I asked about it wherever I went. Numerous other people confirmed the sad fact.

But while that fact makes things difficult, the trans-por-tation problems haven't destroyed initiative in South Africa. Nearly everywhere you drive -- you do not walk because it just isn't safe, and there is little public transportation -- there are roadside traders who rival in energy and inventiveness the finest hawkers anywhere in the world.

Leaving one private housing area, I was struck by the sight of two men standing in the middle of the road by the traffic lights (or "robots," as South Africans say) holding garbage bags. "Better than begging," explained Neil Emerick, a think tank analyst and my chauffeur at that moment. "When we stop it's a good time to de-trash the car and give them a couple of rand."

At another light a young man offered us "lubricated" condoms, the box clearly indicating these were a donation to the Republic of South Africa (RSA) from a First World charity. Apparently they had been taken from a clinic, and he was now "giving" them away. If we also felt like "giving" him some dollars, he wouldn't say no. But he wasn't selling them, exactly -- just making sure they were in circulation rather than languishing in the clinic's storeroom.