Capetown Races: Two Oceans Marathon

Kaapstaad, eKapa, iKapa, Capetown. The English version of this city sounds the best, fitting in a way, because this seems a very un-African city. And yet, for all the fine shopping, tasty restaurants, broad pedestrian walkways, quaint cafes, and other sundry material delights, it still left me with a shade of uneasiness. Part of it was the rudeness of the local whites and the obvious income disparities. Perhaps it is because it is so soon after the apartheid era. America has had a few more generations than South Africa to deal with its race issues.

We climbed Table Mountain, visited the District Six museum, saw an art exhibit, visited the Slave Lodge, attended a concert in Company Gardens, visited some vineyards, and did other things in addition to the Two Oceans Marathon. Victoria Wharf is reminiscent of Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco. There are a lot of things to do here. Service at the restaurants we ate at was impeccable. It is more metropolitan than any place in Swaziland. I met interesting people from Prague, Sweden, U.K., and even America.

I also talked to a few local beggars. A lot of them were Coloureds (I’m not being politically incorrect; that’s the term they use around here for people of mixed descent). One of them, at Green Market, told me that people like me usually didn’t stop to talk to people like them. I figure that now I was in a point in my life where I have the time to stop for a chat and hear about their life stories. I know that sometimes they are lying when they tell me their stories but usually it is interesting. I advised them to organize themselves and march on their parliament to advocate for their own causes. “Stanley” told me they lacked “resources and smart people”. In a way, I saw his point and didn’t know if and how the South Africans were ever going to make things right. One of the few advantages Swaziland has over SA is its race relations. In the end, the beggar and his friends ended up giving me part of a croissant with jam and cream cheese and told me about a free concert with Freshly Ground at a nearby park. These people did not have much, but what they had between themselves they shared. Sometimes people are asking for money just to be asking, and what they really would like is some human interaction.

I returned from talking to the Green Market beggars and went back to join the girls at the art exhibition. On my way in, the black receptionist lady said, “Unjani” to me (“how are you?”). I was surprised but responded appropriately. How did she know I knew to speak African? Capetown has three official languages – English, Afrikaans and Xhosa. English is the lingua franca, but Afrikaans and Xhosa speakers seem to be divided among racial lines. From her insouciant tone, I think she was bored and had just been trying to be funny and was testing me. They do that sometimes in Swaziland with me too. I came back to chat with her. Then it was her turn to be surprised when I spoke to her in siSwati (siSwati and Xhosa are closely related, although not as closely as with siZulu). She ended up being very nice and taught me how to click my tongue properly as the Xhosa language has a few different kinds of clicks from siSwati.

For the Two Oceans Marathon, we ran the 5km Fun Run on Friday. For some reason, all they gave the runners at the end was Coke. One would think they knew better, as it is one of the biggest races in this part of the world. At least they had Powerade and water in addition to the Coca-cola for the half-marathoners and ultra-marathoners on Saturday. The fun run was a lot of fun. I watched Robert and Sophie finish. My new European friends were just traveling around and had found out about the race a few days before. That kind of traveling appealed to me. Sometimes, I like being able to get to a place and do random things spontaneously instead of structured itineraries.

Along the race route during the half-marathon the next day, there was an African drum group to keep morale high. As I ran by, one of the drummers said to me “Ching Chong” – that universal catchphrase for people who mockingly pretend to speak Chinese. It’s different if people are actually trying to speak Chinese – the difference is like when we Peace Corps Volunteers are actually trying to make an effort to speak siSwati instead of pretending. It doesn’t bother me, but makes me think that there for all its cosmopolitan trappings, Capetown still has a lot of ignorant people, both black and white. I don’t even think the guy was trying to be mocking, he just didn’t know any better.

I think if black Africans want to make racial progress and keep the moral high ground, they need to be a bit more careful and solve some things within themselves first. But it’s not just Africa. Even when I went home for Christmas a year and a half ago, a drunk black guy said the same words, “Ching Chong” to me and my grandmother as we walked through downtown Atlanta. For a second I thought I was back in Southern Africa.

I finished the gorgeous half-marathon and hung out with my friends at the International tent – free food, drinks and beer. I would definitely do it again (and not just for the food).

Saturday night, we went out to Long Street, starting out with an Irish car bomb at an Irish pub, and then capping off our Capetown trip with tequila shots at a Cuban place early Sunday morning. I slept it off on the plane trip and kombi ride home.

In conclusion, Capetown was a nice break after Walk the Nation. We needed it to help let the dust settle after the Walk, put everything in perspective, and get a change of scenery. And what beautiful scenery. It's ocean and mountain, something for everyone, all in one place. I'm going to enjoy it when I return to Capetown next month for Adam's thing, a sort of last hurrah for Group 4 PCVs before we finish our service and go our separate ways in America.