The late American Justice, Louis Brandeis is credited with writing that:
" Publicity is justly commended as a remedy for social and industrial
diseases. Sunlight is said to be the best of disinfectants;
electric light the most efficient policeman."
Martin Luther King Jr. said:
"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that.
Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."
So let's finally shine a light on an uncomfortable topic in which we were all morally complicit.
This was precipitated by our classmate Sashikant Manga's email today.
What better a day than Good Friday and Passover to talk about it?
His email and some responses follow and I encourage you all to weigh in.
This was precipitated by our classmate Sashikant Manga's email today.
What better a day than Good Friday and Passover to talk about it?
His email and some responses follow and I encourage you all to weigh in.
SASHIKANT'S EMAIL:
Many students would want to know why there were so few students of colour at the 40 year class reunion. Most of the students in the class would not be aware as to the reason for this. We never felt part of the university or medical school. We were marginalized and were never involved or allowed to get involved in any of the social activities that the rest of the class enjoyed. There was also little interaction socially or otherwise between the students of color and the rest of the class there was a quota system. Only a limited amount of students were admitted. When we received the letter of admission to medical school there was a footnote that this was conditional to us getting a permit from the relevant government authority to study there.
This permit if it was granted was very specific and was for study at UCT and for the MbChb degree only.This permit could also be withdrawn at any time at the ministers discretion.
Then there was the question of accommodation.There was no residence for students of colour nor was there any help from the university in this regard.This was a major problem as finding decent accommodation especially near to the university was often very difficult.The nearest and most convenient place was in upper Woodstock (Walmer Estate) which bordered on De Waal's Drive and we were able to hitch a lift to university and back. Because some of the places we stayed at were not conducive for studying, most students would take a bus on Saturday afternoon to study at the public library in the gardens which was open till 5 pm. On Sundays we would hitchhike to the main campus to the architecture block where we would often find an open room where we could study in peace. (Jagger library was closed on Sundays)
I must also mention that there was a high failure rate of students of color In the preclinical years due to the inadequate facilities at the high schools they came from.
In the 2nd year anatomy all the male students of color were put in the small anatomy lab.
Many years later when Daan Coetzee was questioned about this I believe his reply was ”that we would want to be amongst our own kind“. It did however have the effect of bonding us closer together. Even though we were in close proximity to other students there was no social interaction. In the physiology lab the arrangement was that if you used the exercise bicycle you could use the shower at Medical res. When Vincent Fisher went there to use the shower he was turned away by the warden (?Prof Leary)
In the clinical years we not allowed in the white section of GSH nor allowed to examine white patients. At the E floor lecture theatre at GSH if a white patient was presented (although I did not experience this myself) the students of color were asked to leave.
When there were social activities like rag or intervarsity (which we were not allowed to attend) and the students coming to lectures the next day bragging about the fun they had we were merely observers.
In the 5th year Ismail Jakoet tried to organize a sports day for us to use the university sports facility. This was initially refused as we would have to apply for a permit as it was in a white group area. This was later granted and this was the first and only time that we got to use this faculty.
In the final year we took a unanimous decision to boycott the final year dinner and Ismail Jakoet was sent as our spokesman to explain the reasons for our decision. I believe that this caused a lot of anger amongst the students at the dinner for politicking the occasion.
I hope this letter will explain why many students chose not to attend the reunion.
In conclusion although there was little interaction (as far as I am aware ) none of us experienced any racism or antagonism from the rest of the class.
Warm regards,
Sashikant Manga
Many students would want to know why there were so few students of colour at the 40 year class reunion. Most of the students in the class would not be aware as to the reason for this. We never felt part of the university or medical school. We were marginalized and were never involved or allowed to get involved in any of the social activities that the rest of the class enjoyed. There was also little interaction socially or otherwise between the students of color and the rest of the class there was a quota system. Only a limited amount of students were admitted. When we received the letter of admission to medical school there was a footnote that this was conditional to us getting a permit from the relevant government authority to study there.
This permit if it was granted was very specific and was for study at UCT and for the MbChb degree only.This permit could also be withdrawn at any time at the ministers discretion.
Then there was the question of accommodation.There was no residence for students of colour nor was there any help from the university in this regard.This was a major problem as finding decent accommodation especially near to the university was often very difficult.The nearest and most convenient place was in upper Woodstock (Walmer Estate) which bordered on De Waal's Drive and we were able to hitch a lift to university and back. Because some of the places we stayed at were not conducive for studying, most students would take a bus on Saturday afternoon to study at the public library in the gardens which was open till 5 pm. On Sundays we would hitchhike to the main campus to the architecture block where we would often find an open room where we could study in peace. (Jagger library was closed on Sundays)
I must also mention that there was a high failure rate of students of color In the preclinical years due to the inadequate facilities at the high schools they came from.
In the 2nd year anatomy all the male students of color were put in the small anatomy lab.
Many years later when Daan Coetzee was questioned about this I believe his reply was ”that we would want to be amongst our own kind“. It did however have the effect of bonding us closer together. Even though we were in close proximity to other students there was no social interaction. In the physiology lab the arrangement was that if you used the exercise bicycle you could use the shower at Medical res. When Vincent Fisher went there to use the shower he was turned away by the warden (?Prof Leary)
In the clinical years we not allowed in the white section of GSH nor allowed to examine white patients. At the E floor lecture theatre at GSH if a white patient was presented (although I did not experience this myself) the students of color were asked to leave.
When there were social activities like rag or intervarsity (which we were not allowed to attend) and the students coming to lectures the next day bragging about the fun they had we were merely observers.
In the 5th year Ismail Jakoet tried to organize a sports day for us to use the university sports facility. This was initially refused as we would have to apply for a permit as it was in a white group area. This was later granted and this was the first and only time that we got to use this faculty.
In the final year we took a unanimous decision to boycott the final year dinner and Ismail Jakoet was sent as our spokesman to explain the reasons for our decision. I believe that this caused a lot of anger amongst the students at the dinner for politicking the occasion.
I hope this letter will explain why many students chose not to attend the reunion.
In conclusion although there was little interaction (as far as I am aware ) none of us experienced any racism or antagonism from the rest of the class.
Warm regards,
Sashikant Manga
Eve covers herself and lowers her head in shame in Rodin's "Eve after the Fall".
Shame is a discrete, basic emotion, described as a moral or social emotion that drives people to hide or deny their wrongdoings.
RESPONSES:
Thank you for articulating only some of the many indignities you had to endure then. This is that dark "secret" that most of us have buried deep inside of ourselves all these years. There were a few whites students who were brave enough to protest, but most of us knew that it was wrong, but just went along with it. I can only apologize for my own lack of courage.
I took the easy way out and left the country in 1975.
I am sure that your email may upset some folks, but it was needed.
This is written with a profound sense of guilt.
Trevor Kaye
Dear Sashikant,
Thank you for this.
Looking back, I can see how easy it was for us to not notice, or think about the indignities and challenges that all our fellow students, those of colour, experienced on a daily basis. You were with us, smiling and engaging, but then we went on our ways, to a pub or beach or whatever. And you couldn’t join us. And often, we didn’t notice enough. We didn’t think enough about this enough, or try hard enough to build bridges. No excuses.
It was a society deeply poisoned by apartheid and we didn’t realise that the poison was also in all of us.
Trevor has done a great thing, creating this venue. We can hear about our experiences, learn about the past. I’m so glad that you had the courage and awareness to post this, Sashikant, Dr. Manga, my colleague and classmate.
We are all a lot older now. We have all experienced many changes, in ourselves and in our lives. Perhaps this will allow us to celebrate our Med School years, finally, together next time.
Cheers, and all the best to you and your family. Stay safe during this time of crisis,
Alex Moll
Dear Sashikant,
Thanks so much for detailing this for us. I feel deeply shamed by it.
I was friendly with Vince Fisher, inasmuch as one could be across the lines of color and class. I once visited him at his home - in one of the townships, I think it was. We sat in his tiny dusty backyard with small children running about. Poverty was all about, and his own conditions were terrible.
I couldn’t bring myself to have him visit me at the house I rented with fellow students - where we each had our own room, and ideal conditions to study. We even had a cleaning woman.
So, we went to our classes, our social events, played our sports. We skipped class occasionally to attend demonstrations against apartheid - while not understanding the depredations and deprivations and humiliations suffered by our fellow students sitting next to us in class.
It’s deeply painful to read your account. It is to weep for.
Thanks for telling us this, after all these many years.
Warmly,
Eric Hassall
Dear Sashikant,
Thank you very much for your words. This scenarios of separateness and discrimination are abhorrent and yet it occurred. I, as a white person, am guilty of the situation. My indoctrination is no excuse for the non awareness of your exclusion. I would like to apologize for my complete non mindfulness. If you could, would you consider attending our next reunion. Please stay safe and healthy.
Love
Louise Berkowicz
Dear Sashikant,
Thank you so very much for writing those words. They had a profound effect on me. As I read of the indignities you endured I am filled with shame and sorrow and deep guilt about those times and my collusion in your exclusion. There is no way to excuse my blindness to what you and all our classmates of colour were experiencing, sitting right there beside us for those 6 years. I offer you my deepest apologies.
Warmly.
Susan Comay
Dear Sashikant, Dr. Manga, and all other classmates and colleagues who endured such injustices and indignities, 3/4 of which I was regrettably oblivious to at the time. I would just like to add my name to those who have already very eloquently made comments and expressed sentiments that I strongly identify and agree with, particularly Alex Moll.
Wishing you the very best
Warmest regards
Garth Alperstein
Dear Sashikant
It is with a profound sadness that I read your email today detailing the gross injustice perpetrated against yourself and fellow students of a different skin colour.
It is heart breaking to read and recall.
Like Trevor, and so many of us, I too chose the easier option and left South Africa in 1979 to make a new life in Australia.
Thank you for having the courage to speak from your heart.
With best wishes to you and your family.
Hilton Shapiro
Dear Sashikant
Thank you for your searingly honest email and I wish to add my endorsement and support to comments made by others already of the shame and guilt we privileged whites carry for our collusion and willful blindness to the injustice and indignity to which you and your black classmates were subjected. We chose not to see.
We are now all older, hopefully wiser, and, as Alex Moll has eloquently put it, have been shaped and changed by subsequent life experiences. Hopefully, the new addition to our website to which Trevor refers will enable us all to reflect on our roles, complicity and attempts at atonement.
“How do the angels get to sleep when the devil leaves his porch light on?” - Tom Waits
Warm regards
Rob Dyer
Dear All,
I can only endorse my old friend, Al Moll's, profound words.There is little doubt that Afrikaner nationalism drove DF Malan's Nats to power in 1948. The success of their project led to the exclusionary and racist policy of apartheid. A minority commanded the resources of all for their benefit - us whites. The education we received allowed many of us to have a choice - stay or go. Those who chose to stay are now facing a new wave of nationalism, being black. This time minorities are facing discrimination and exclusion which is leading to a second wave of emigration by people with skills, including blacks. This leaves a diminished tax and skills base, a situation which will damage the country further. Moderate politicians like Ramaphosa will face further challenges from populist and opportunistic demagogues, from both the right and left.
Apartheid has cast a long shadow over our beautiful land.
Regards to all,
John Cowlin
My feelings of guilt towards Sashikant & the others, are well expressed by Trevor, Alex, Garth & others.
Please understand the reasons for my inactivity & acquiescence of apartheid. I was scared.
I saw the indignities experienced by my dark skinned fellow countrymen. My heart still bleeds for the mass of people in townships, who travel hours to get to work.
I saw separate wards at GSH, separate seating on buses & trains, separate entrance to the post office, separate entrance to bottle stores, separate beaches, inadequate school resources.
I knew Sashikant & the others were not allowed to white wards and could not see white patients.
My scoutmaster Teddy Schuur was warned by Major Nel, security branch and then banned when he did not stop his activities.
My cousin Neville Rubin, was smuggled out of RSA into Mozambique & only returned after Mandela was president.
When Steve Biko was murdered, I only signed a petition, because I was still scared of the security police.
When I arrived in Britain, I felt free, I could walk anywhere, day & night (this has changed).
Then my department advertised for a new registrar. The director of pathology said come to my office so I can advise on how to avoid appointing a black! I never went.
In Britain there is racism. Last year the Labour Party was overtly anti-Semitic. Europe & UK have an underlying ambivalence to Moslems.
We spent 4.5 years in New Zealand, who have excellent race relations, because the British army did not defeat the Maori, & signed a peace treaty, recognizing the Maori as subjects of Queen Victoria. This did not stop Governor George Grey (yes also Cape governor) confiscating millions of acres of land from the Maori, causing massive starvation.
In 2003, we returned to Cape Town, with our youngest daughter. I was standing in a queue in Nedbank, Franschhoek, in front of me was a black man, 5 ft 3 ins with a torn T-shirt & trousers to his ankles, no socks, and the blond, blue eyed female teller said to him “Goeie more, meneer, hoe kan ek jou help?”. My heart sang because I felt this man might be poor, but now there was dignity in the land.
Jeff Barron
Dear Sashikant,
Thank you for your honest response which has helped open our eyes to the awful realities of how we treated you and other students of colour, our fellow students, yet not allowed the privilege of being ‘fellows’. I agree with so many others’ responses to your letter– we did not know, we were misinformed, we were scared of stepping out of line, and many others – all totally unacceptable responses. I am so sorry for the part I played in making life so tough for you. Nearly 50 years on, is it possible to try and build friendships that should have started then?
At medical school, I was in a prayer group led by Gilbert Lawrence. He helped us understand some of the difficulties that students of colour faced and we prayed about them, but that is all we did. To my shame, we did not mix much socially because it was so complicated to arrange – no excuse!
My husband, 2 years ahead of us, was in a group with Chinese students, and so their group was limited to the ‘non-white’ wards in GSH and also to only ‘non-white’ postmortems. So he grew to understand a little of the pain they and you experienced.
Other than 18 months overseas and 8 years at a rural hospital in Lesotho during the worst apartheid years, we have spent our working lives in South Africa. I have chosen to work amongst the less privileged in our society all my life, in an attempt to give back some dignity to people who have been denied it by our oppressive system. I can remember watching TV, with my children around me, as the results came in for the last white referendum of the apartheid regime, when de Klerk asked for permission to go ahead with negotiations to end the oppressive regime. One child asked me why I had tears running down my cheeks and my response was that they were tears of joy as I never believed that I would see the end of apartheid in my lifetime as the government seemed to have such a strong hold on the situation. Then came the glorious day of the first free-and-fair elections, when we queued for hours to vote, all colours of the rainbow, joking and chatting together and sharing our umbrellas and plastic packets for shelter when it started to rain. Then too, the magic of the soccer 2010 world cup. We took my 84 year old Mum and her friends by train from Rondebosch to the city to walk the fan walk to the stadium. The Rondebosch platform was about 6 deep with people all with the same idea, so we missed several trains until I realized that the third class carriages were not full. So we made our way down the platform to get in on the next train. How humbled we were by the friendly reception we received in the carriage, with people giving up their bench seats for our elderly companions. The feeling of togetherness in South Africa at that time was electric.
Unfortunately, that did not last and we continue the long slow road to trying to make all South Africa for all her people.
Please accept my humblest apologies for not doing more and for being so insensitive to what you were experiencing at med school. Please guide us and help us to rebuild this country into a better place together.
This comes with my best wishes and a suggestion that maybe you and other ‘students of colour’ might like to organize our next reunion – on your terms. If that is still too hurtful for you, have you perhaps met together as a group and could some of us maybe be part of a future meeting as your guests or as observers? We look to you for direction about how we can help to bring some healing out of a deep and longstanding hurt.
Yours,
Ann Moore (Hofmeyr)
While I largely agree with Alex et al, I think we DID know what inequities were happening under our noses - and if we didn’t, were we stupid or blind or both ? The issue is what did we actually do about it? What was there to do? Why didn’t do what we could have? Intimidated? No prospect of success? Rich, privileged and lazy? I plead guilty to all of the above. Some, our successors, did better, and some paid a bitter price - Neil Agate for one. Some things still haven’t changed enough. (Constantia v Heideveld). Some of us, me included, eventually just ran away. My parents considered this an unacceptable cowards way out, but my own family are glad I did. Maybe too much wringing of hands and not enough doing something positive???
Andrew Floyd
Dear Sasha,
Thank you for your letter to the class of 1973.
This was sorely needed and hit to the core of my emotions regarding apartheid and discrimination which prevailed whilst we were studying.
Many of us feel guilt about not being more vocal. We should of, but most of us were frightened and scared of the consequences and the impact on the progress to complete our studies.
Largely because of the unequal society, most of the class of 1973, including myself, chose to leave South Africa in order to achieve our aspirations elsewhere. However, the guilt remains and I must apologise to you and all our colleagues of colour for the way we behaved towards you during those student years.
You and I had a common bond, having both grown up and schooled in Port Elizabeth. I was so grateful to have had many open and honest discussions with you about how difficult life was for you as a student because of the racial discrimination. How difficult everyday life was with no help from anyone.
It was a huge privilege to meet your parents and extended family. You came from an intelligent, warm, friendly and kind family and I have no doubt that this helped to keep you solid and grounded and able to withstand the difficulties that you endured as a result of the awful racism.
I have often told the story about you and I being told to attend the bursar office to collect our first payment cheques as Housemen at Livingstone Hospital in Port Elizabeth. I received about R350 and you received about R300. I was hugely dumbstruck by this unfairness. We had the same training, did the same work at the same hospital and I was paid more because I was white in colour. This created more hate in me for the apartheid regime.
You and I remained in contact till my family and I left for London in 1987. I remember your sadness when I told you, on one my visits to Port Elizabeth, that I would be emigrating. It was wonderful to meet up again at the 40th reunion and I applaud you for being able to move forward and see your way clear to attend the reunion. I do hope that we will meet again at the 50th reunion, if not before.
I was so delighted to hear of your success as a family practitioner in our home town.
If you ever decide on a trip to the UK, please make contact as would love you to visit me at my home in Golders Green.
Please keep in touch and thank you for initiating this discussion.
Warm wishes,
Alec Goldin
Dear Sashikant,
Your recent letter to our website has opened up a Pandora’s box of shame and recrimination in me as to my indifference to the suffering of my fellow less privileged members of the class of ’73.
I should have known better coming from a Jewish family who suffered the traumas, violence and deprivations in early 20th century Europe. As a child I was constantly reminded of the suffering of my family in Europe. Yet I chose to ignore the suffering of the peoples of colour in South Africa. It was more comfortable for me to bury my conscience and “keep quiet”. In retrospect, my main reason for not speaking out against what I knew was wrong, was the constant “free floating anxiety” of a review by the security police.
I lead a life of privilege and opportunity, which was enabled by the labours and sufferings of other racial groups. For this I am profoundly ashamed.
My epiphany came in 1975 when I served as a conscript medical officer in the South African army. I saw firsthand the brutality and inhumanity of the regime. It was an eye opener. I was disgusted with what I witnessed. When I was discharged from service, I decided to take the “coward’s way out” and emigrated to Canada. When I told my family that I was leaving most members were highly critical. The saddest day of my life was the day I left my beloved Cape Town.
To my fellow classmates and colleagues who endured the injustices and indignities of apartheid, I can only say that I am truly and humbly sorry for choosing not to notice the constant humiliations and degradations that you suffered while we were classmates at UCT. I did not speak out for what I knew was wrong .
I hope that if we choose to have a reunion in 2023 that you and those class members who suffered these humiliations will choose to attend so that I can make a personal apology.
Thank you for shining a light on an uncomfortable topic.
Stay safe.
Kind regards,
Jeffrey Wollach
Dear Sashikant … you have been on the receiving end of many heartfelt and meaningful responses to your important and timely letter to our class of ’73 medical colleagues. Thank you for your reminder of how unfairly, yet incredibly privileged I was not only to be a medical student, but to have enjoyed the freedom denied to so many, to pursue whatever dreams or opportunities I desired. Emotionally immature as well as politically naïve, I lived in a “bubble” that has long since, burst. One thing is for sure … we were all damaged, in different ways by the political system of our time. It has left a deep scar in our psyche. Yes, we have come a long way since then, but we still have a long way to go.
In November 2017 I had the privilege of delivering the opening address at the World Psychiatric Congress in Cape Town. Please read this address as my way of saying thank you for making your stand when you did and for the way you, with others, did it. I have not forgotten it.
Ian McCallum
| world_psychiatry_congress.doc |
Sashikant,
Thank you for putting into words what was happening for you during those years at med school. We were so in indoctrinated and so used to turning a blind eye to what was happening under apartheid. I have never forgotten that final year dinner. I felt so small and hateful after the speech. I wanted to crawl under the table and hide my head in shame.
I went to the UK for 2 years in my 4 th year and when I returned was horribly aware of apartheid and the injustices and segregation, but felt powerless and too cowardly to stand up to the system. I couldn't wait to finish my degree and leave South Africa as soon as I could.
I now live in Australia where racism still flourishes.
My deepest regrets and apologies for keeping my head down and doing nothing.
Go well.
Joan van den Ende
