Beyond the beaches: the two faces of Cape Town
Monday afternoon, mid-October. I watch the UV index decrease from twelve to eleven as I alternate between sunbathing and swimming. Camps Bay Beach sits on the western coastline of Cape Town nestled between the Atlantic Ocean and the peaks of the Twelve Apostles. The beach is framed by palm trees and the familiar sound of the marimba can be heard from the lively promenade.
This is what my life looks like as an exchange student in South Africa: a Monday afternoon spent playing cards on the beach as the sky turns a shade of pink that I’m sure doesn’t exist in the UK.
It’s easy to forget that only decades ago this very beach would have displayed a ‘whites only’ sign. West of Table Mountain, the whole suburb of Camps Bay was a designated ‘white area’ during apartheid.
Apartheid was a system of institutionalised racial segregation enforced by the South African government from 1948 to 1994. The National Party, led by white Afrikaners, promised to protect white South African dominance amid growing fears of Black political power. In 1948, they rose to power and formally instituted apartheid. It divided people into racial categories; white, Black, ‘Coloured’ or Indian. An oppressive, socio-economic system that favoured the white minority.
Our parents watched as this unfolded: Black South Africans forcibly removed from their homes, laws enforced restricting voting rights, barbed wire and armed guards separating communities. A combination of internal resistance and international pressure meant that, in 1994, South Africa saw its first democratic election, marking the ‘end’ of apartheid. Like many crimes of humanity, however, the world moved on too fast.
Though the ‘whites only’ signs were taken down, the legacy of apartheid lives on. It isn’t merely a page in a history book, but is woven into the fabric of contemporary South African society. When I would tell people that I was spending my year abroad in South Africa, I would receive a concerned look: “Lot of crime there, isn’t there?”. While I’m cautious of reducing the country to oversimplified stereotypes about crime, the reality is that the top 0.01% of individuals own about 15% of aggregate national wealth, greater than the share of wealth owned by the bottom 90% consisting of around 32 million individuals. (UN, 2020) Crime is hardly surprising given the vast disparities in household wealth, education, employment, and housing.
Today, many of the people displaced during apartheid remain in townships. Table Mountain, Cape Town’s most iconic landmark, acts as a barrier, separating those displaced from the wealthier parts of the city that I enjoy today.
Cape Town is a divided city. This was clear to me within thirty minutes of landing at Cape Town International Airport. Sleep-deprived and luggage-less (my suitcases, I was told, were likely left in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia), I got an Uber to the house I would live in for the next six months.
Driving down the N2, to the right I see miles of sprawling iron-roofed shacks tightly packed together. Windows are broken or covered with plastic sheeting and children play barefoot in the dirty streets. I later learned that this is Langa: Cape Town’s oldest township. To my left is Rondebosch Golf Club. The course is pristine, with finely cut grass and a refined ambiance.
As the weeks unfolded, I started to see how deeply this contrast was rooted in Cape Town’s reality. Living in Langa on one side of the motorway, a mother of five, burdened by the enduring impacts of apartheid, struggles to secure clean water and healthcare for her children. Meanwhile, just across the way, groups of White businessmen—many of whom have not faced the same hardships—enjoy premium golf, smoke Cuban cigars, and casually discuss how it’s time to move beyond the injustices of the past.
Thankfully, not everyone shares the same attitude of indifference to the past. In Leeds, I am assimilated to a culture that ensures, for the most part, that the only person to speak in a lecture is the lecturer. UCT was a culture shock. The students are audacious and unafraid. They are hungry to have their voice heard, and quick to engage in contemplative discussion of the past, dissecting and critically examining the legacies of history. They embody hope for the future.
The recent South African elections show a shift in the country’s political landscape. Nelson Mandela’s political party, the ANC (African National Congress), has governed since the end of apartheid. For many, the ANC represents Black liberation, freeing the nation from apartheid and crowning South Africa as the ‘rainbow nation’.
Since 1994, however, support for the ANC has gradually declined. Major corruption scandals, and general inability to address socio-economic issues has led to an erosion of trust in the party’s governance. For this reason, the 2024 election resulted in a coalition government. The ANC partnered with the DA (Democratic Alliance), a centre-right party focused on economic reform. Despite the collaboration in government, the country remains polarised. The ANC’s coalition with a party seen as representing white minority interests is viewed as a betrayal for ANC voters. However, this coalition marks a potential for change; a successful government of national unity can perhaps inspire political and racial harmony in a divided country.
Cape Town is a place of unparalleled natural beauty, and it has a vibrancy that shines through its art, music and food. I would recommend it to anyone. Monday afternoons spent on the beach are unforgettable, but it is impossible to ignore the intense inequalities that the city still faces.
Words by Elysha Din
