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Most everything in Cape Town is expensive, but it is all worth it
and more.
This southernmost tip of the African continent
is as beautiful as beautiful can be. It has crisp, clear air
cleansed by the fresh wind coming from the Antarctic and Atlantic
Oceans, breathtaking table mountains, myriad seabirds and marine
mammal species, elegantly snaking and rolling roads lined by
beautiful European-style residential and commercial buildings,
exciting colorful waterfront, I could go on and on.
Most important, the temperature here is high at
pretty much like Manila’s most splendid time of the year—a
little chilly at night when the howling wind comes in.
I could stay in Cape Town the rest of my life.
One awe-inspiring place is the Robben Island. It
is replete with memories of the untold hardships Apartheid political
prisoners suffered under their White oppressive colonizers. I
visited Mr. Nelson Mandela’s cell where he was on solitary
confinement like many leaders of their freedom movement and was
given only a blanket, a mat, a metal plate and bowl and a small
night table. His ID number was 466/64, he was inmate number 466 and
was incarcerated in 1964. This group of prisoners was not allowed to
mingle with the others and had no access to the world beyond
whatsoever—no letters, no reading materials, no visitors. They
only joined other inmates outside to do hard labor every whole day
under all types of weather.
The island is a 30-minute ride on a speedy ferry
from the waterfront. It is more than 5,600 feet at its widest. There
used to be a lot of residents there until it was declared a national
shrine and a World Heritage site. We were ushered into the different
buildings that housed the inmates, criminal and political, and the
different facilities, including the cemetery for the lepers, the
community where the prison officers used to live, shop, study,
socialize and worship. They sent personages of different religious
sects to the prisons to minister to the spiritual needs of the
prisoners as they were not allowed to roam around.
Our tour guides were both former political
inmates so they didn’t just show us around, their annotations were
peppered with recollections of what happened during those infamous
days. One poignant story told was about how they learned to value
their education. The more learned inmates took on the role of
teachers and taught with purpose, system, patience and focus. Those
who were totally illiterate were taught the ABC’s and ‘rithmetic
with the sand as their blackboard and paper. After they learned the
basics, these “students” joined the different study and subject
groups conducted whenever they were walking towards and working on
the quarry or the beach and during every other opportunity. How
ingenious and dedicated.
This guide said that when he came out of the
prison, his informal education was credited for the unfinished
portion of his interrupted high school education. He went on to
finish his graduate education, but still volunteers as a guide at
the island and helps preserve its character and history.
The island used to house a hospital for those
with mental disorders and communicable diseases. On the lighter
side, our guide recalled how male and female lepers were segregated
to avoid any romantic alliances because, then, they believe that
leprosy was highly contagious and could be inherited. But, lo and
behold, the lepers dug their own secret “lovers’ lane” between
their cells and so the female lepers became pregnant and bore
children to the bewilderment of the prison officers and doctors.
They never found out about the tunnel of love
until late.
The other guide escorted us to the different
prison buildings. These structures were relatively new and made of
adobe stones dug and shaped by the prisoners from the quarry. The
old structures were made of corrugated iron. The prison
administrators soon segregated the criminals from the political
inmates. Prisoners were grouped in A, B, C, D categories, and were
accorded food, letter sending and receiving and visitation
privileges, accordingly. For example, C prisoners get less food
items and quantities than category B. They could send and receive
one letter, and be visited by a close family member only once a
month. On the other hand, B prisoners could send and receive two
letters and get two visits a month.
There are many more stories, but we have no
space. Now I am grimly imagining how our very own Ninoy Aquino and
his comrades coped during their struggle under Ferdinand Marcos’
dictatorial and martial rule.
Mr. Mandela, ever the statesman and pure soul
that he is, declared, “We want Robben Island to reflect the
triumph of freedom and human dignity over oppression and
humiliation.” And so South Africa, while never forgetting the
past, has forgiven the bitterness of their struggle and is moving on
freely and optimistically.
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