That is Sedition!... That is the Truth!

One of my favorite movies growing up was The Last of the Mohicans. If you are unfamiliar, it is based on the historical novel of the same name about the French and Indian War and the use of Native Americans by the French and British Armies.  If you are not up on your history, here’s the Cliff Notes: the French and the British fought each other from 1754 to 1763 for control of North America.  Since neither the French nor the British knew the continent all that well they used American Indians as informants in an effort to outmaneuver each another. Obviously the British won which is why we don’t speak French. Moving on…

As I was saying my favorite movie was The Last of the Mohicans.  My brother’s favorite movie is equally cerebral, thus proving we are related: Dumb and Dumber.  In The Last of the Mohicans there is a scene where one of the Native American informants is arguing with a British army officer.  The British officer didn’t like that the Mohican was questioning his judgment and shouted, “That is Sedition!”  The Mohican responded, “That is the Truth!”

Sedition is a word which is seldom, if ever heard in developed, western countries.  Sedition involves speaking out against a political ruler (or nation) and encouraging others to rebel as well.  In the U.S. we have freedom of speech (or freedom of expression), so we can voice our opinions regardless of whether they are in opposition to authority figures. We have freedom of assembly, so people can gather together and protest.  We have freedom of the press, so the media can report without fear of legal repercussions.  There are countless examples every day of acts which could be considered seditious, but in reality they aren’t.  That is the benefit of being American.

Botswana is different.  Botswana recently arrested a newspaper editor and charged him with sedition.  The paper ran a story stating that President Khama had been involved in a car accident and apparently compensated the other driver by giving him a new Jeep.  And what is seditious about this?  I don’t know either.  Here is the article if you would like to read it.  Seems pretty straightforward if you ask me.

I will say the one thing I found curious about the article is that, “…while someone is holding the office of president and during his tenure, no civil or criminal proceedings can be instituted against them.”  Hmmm… that is unsettling.  And it reminds me a lot of our evil dictator to the north, President Mugabe of Zimbabwe.  At 90, you would think Mugabe would have retired by now, particularly since he’s been at the helm 34 years.  Of course, that will never happen.  He must die in office.  If he retires he will either be tried by The Hague for human rights violations or his own people will kill him for all the suffering he’s put them through.

Back to Botswana, I have to say, I am disappointed.  Botswana has been the shining beacon of hope for Africa for decades.  It is the only consistently stable democracy which has never had any major problems, aside from HIV/AIDs and poverty, but then again, you can’t change the weather. Of course, there was that issue with the student elections which demonstrated the government is more corrupt than people give them credit for. I do hope this sedition situation is an outlier and not a sign that Botswana is moving the way of many of the other African countries (i.e. dictatorships).  This is yet one more thing that reminds me why I am proud to be an American.

A Visit to Prison (i.e. Robben Island)

After I checked in to my guest house here in Cape Town yesterday the owner/manager invited me out for dinner after he heard I was a professor of tourism.  We spent most of the time swapping war stories of working in the hotel business, but he also asked me what I intended to do while I was here.  I mentioned I planned to go to Robben Island.  “Why would you want to do that?” he responded.

I guess it never occurred to me to come to Cape Town and then skip Robben Island.  I just assumed it was a requirement.  Do not pass go, do not collect $200: Do not visit Robben Island, do not gain admission to the airport to leave.  So, today I went to Robben Island.

Robben is the Dutch word for seal.  The island was given its name due to the thousands of seals living there.  How many seals did I see today?  Not one.

In order to get to Robben Island you have to take a small ferry about 45 minutes across the harbor.  Once you arrive you are hustled onto buses and shuttled around the island.  Prior to becoming a prison Robben Island was a leper colony.  With the exception of the church, all the buildings from the time of the leper colony were destroyed due to the fear that “the walls may be infected and cause others to contract the disease.”

But we were able to see all the buildings associated with the prison as well as the present day village.  About 130 people live on the island full time, including former prisoners, four former prison guards and their families.  Once the bus tour concludes you are dropped off at the main prison itself.  All the tours of the prison are actually given by former prisoners.  My tour guide, Itumetse, was arrested and sent to Robben Island in 1983; he was released in 1990.

I haven’t really spent much time in prisons, so I’m not really sure what I expected.  There wasn’t very much to see.  Here is one of the watchtowers overlooking the prison yards:

And here is a picture of one of the prison yards where prisoners spent their “free time” when not in their cells:

One of the things I learned during my visit that surprised me was that the prisoners placed a high value on education.  If you look at many of the former prisoners of Robben Island, including Mandela as the most prominent, they are all politicians.  Several are (or previously were) government ministers, the Chief Justice of South Africa, and members of parliament.  I always wondered how this was possible.  While their fame associated with Robben Island may have carried them relatively far in their careers, I expected they had to have some level of intelligence in order to make them able to perform their jobs.  It turns out that Robben Island is what gave them that education.  All prisoners were given access to advanced learning and peer pressure was used to ensure they all participated and took advantage of it.

For the prisoners who were considered “leaders” (Mandela fell into this category) they were sentenced to hard labor, working in the lime quarry.  Initially they were told they would only work there for six months, but in reality the lime quarry was operational for 13 years.  For the first 11 years they were given no protective equipment, which resulted in numerous health problems for many of them.  Most of the prisoners working there had significant damage to their eyes, so much so that most have ineffective tear ducts, meaning they can’t cry, and they cannot stand bright light, so going outside without sunglasses, or having their picture taken with a flash is particularly painful.  The quarry itself doesn’t look impressive, but I’m sure anyone who spent time there found it incredibly memorable:

Naturally, everyone who goes to Robben Island wants to see Nelson Mandela’s cell.  It is one of about 40 identical cells, but there is one aspect which distinguishes it from the others.  As one woman on my tour exclaimed, “Oh look! It’s furnished!”  I’m not sure most of us would consider this “furnished” but apparently this was standard issue for prisoners there:

Welcome to prison! We are always watching you.

Several weeks ago I bought a bicycle.  I enjoy biking and figured this would give me the opportunity to get some exercise and provide me with a slight semblance of independence as I don’t have a vehicle.  I walk plenty, am confident taking the combis (minibus) and have a taxi driver who I use when necessary, but thought a bike might allow me the opportunity to explore more on my own.  I quickly realized Batswana drivers do NOT like bicycles.  As a result I have been less inclined to venture too far on my bike.

However, after some exploring I found a community in my part of town which is well suited to my almost daily ride.  There is a road about a mile from my house and if I follow that road I come to a small neighborhood that has essentially no cars, no traffic lights, few people and a nice quiet area for riding.  I’ve been riding there for several weeks and some of the kids who live in the area now recognize me and we chat.  Our conversations go something like this:

Kelly: Dumela (Hello)

Kid: Yes.

Kelly: Sharpo. (Good)

Kid: Sharpo.

Kelly: Leina lameke Kelly. (My name is Kelly).

Kid: Yes.

Today as I was riding I was approached by two men in uniforms carrying guns.  I don’t particularly like guns, so this was a bit unsettling.  They told me they had been watching me for weeks and wanted to know why I was there.  After a short round of questioning I was told why they approached me.  Apparently I was riding in a community that was part of the prison.  There were prisoners who lived in small houses with their families inside the prison community and then reported for check in each day and their work assignments.  The “really bad guys” were behind the BIG walls locked in cells.  I had seen the big walls and recognized that as the prison, but didn’t realize that I had been riding around where the “not so bad guys” apparently lived as part of the extended prison.

Now, I had noticed the signs that said, “Photography not allowed” but I thought nothing of it as many foreign countries I’ve visited have those signs randomly scattered around from time to time.  The barbed wire didn’t tip me off either.  But, in my defense, barbed wire is EVERYWHERE here.  This is the barbed wire along the 12 foot tall wall behind my house:

After my conversation with the two prison guards I asked them if I had to leave.  They told me I didn’t have to.  They said they just wanted to make sure I understood where I was and that just to be safe I shouldn’t become too friendly with anyone and enter anyone’s house or offer to bring someone over to mine.  Aside from that I was welcome to ride there as much as I liked.  As the one guard said, “It’s no problem. We always know when you are here and we are always watching you.”  Because of that comment I assume this is probably the safest place anywhere in Gaborone for me to ride.