A Summary of My Interest

I checked out a new set of books about Cape Town today from the library. The first one I've delved into, World City Syndrome: Neoliberalism and Inequality in Cape Town by David A. McDonald, contains an introduction that I think captures the key points of my interest in Cape Town. Let me share it with you:

I must admit to a love/hate relationship with Cape Town. On the positive side, there is much to love about the city. It is a fascinating mix of African, Malay, and European cultural heritages, with a strong Muslim influence and an increasingly cosmopolitan flavour. From Xhosa initiation rights in Langa to mosques in Mitchell's Plain to outdoor concerts in Kirstenbosch Gardens and the fish braais on the Cape Flats {all of these places are written into my itinerary -Beth}, Cape Town offers a rich tapestry of traditions, sanded by centuries of grit, determination, and resistance.

The built environment is equally wonderful. From the decaying but vibrant Victorian working-class housing of Salt River to the art deco facilities in Observatory to the Dutch colonial estates of Constantia and the bright colours of the Bo-Kaap, the city has a wide range of fascinating architectural streetscapes.

And, of course, there is the city's stunning physical beauty - possibly the most beautiful natural urban environment in the world. Table Mountain is the most obvious (and most photographed) physical feature. With its 1000-metre cliffs framing and cradling the city centre, visible from up to 80 kilometres away, it is the focal point of the city.

But it is not just this northern face of the mountain that is spectacular. The Table Mountain chain runs from some 70 kilometres south to Cape Point, along which there are seemingly endless nooks and crannies for exploration, and an equally remarkable coastline. It is these smaller, less well-known spots which I enjoy the most, and into which one can disappear from the city in a matter of minutes. The sights and sound of urbanness vanishes, with a sense of wilderness that is achieved more quickly than in any other large city I know. From the hiking trails in Silvermine to the hidden mountain forests of Newlands to the sandy beaches of Cape Point, one could spend a lifetime exploring new and interesting corners of the this city's amazing natural setting.

But it is exactly this physical beauty that makes it such a painful place to be. I find it impossible to see the natural splendour through the city's social ugliness. Much of this stems from centuries of colonialism and apartheid, but contemporary neoliberalism is leaving its own unsightly imprint. One third of the city's population lives below the poverty line in makeshift or overcrowded housing, and another third are just getting by. HIV and AIDS are ravaging many of the city's townships, and Cape Town has one of the highest rates of tuberculosis in the world - due in part to poor quality housing in cold, damp winters. A quarter of the city's population in unemployed, thousands do not have access to basic services such as water and electricity (or cannot afford to pay for these servcies), and public transport in the townships is underfunded and dangerous. Life for township-based women is that much more difficult, struggling to work and take care of their families while also being the targets of crime and rape.

As a result of these inequalities, the natural amenities of the city (its beaches, parks, and hiking trails) are populated largely by wealthier, white Capetonians and tourists. There are black faces in some of the more accessible attractions - e.g. Muizenberg beach - but for the most part Cape Town's natural splendour is for those who can afford to enjoy it, with Table Mountain little more than an imposing outline in the sky from 30-40 kilometres out in the townships.

Ironically, it is largely black Capetonians who have built Cape Town's beauty. From the colonial facades of Long Street to the stone steps up Platterkloof Gorge, the city is haunted by centuries of invisible black labour. And this is still the case. Black workers clean the streets, remove dead seals from the beach, water the plants in the parks, and clean the dishes in the restaurants - most of it unacknowledged by the people who benefit from it.

Cape Town is not alone in this regard, of course, but it is arguably the most uneven and spatially segregated city in the country, especially with its unique white, coloured, and African demographics. It may be the most ghettoized and spatially uneven city in the world.

Underlying this inequity is a smug, white liberalism that permeates all manner of activity in Cape Town - from the pedantic treatment of black store clerks, to a suburban sense of entitelment, to policies that keep the poor 'in their place'. Cape Town smacks of a privileged elite that feels it has little to apologize for, while at the same time suggesting it has all the answers for future development. Cape Town may have been the most 'liberal' city in South Africa under apartheid, but it is exactly this liberalism that has made it such a neoliberal place today.

It is for both these reasons then - love and hate - that I have written this book. I hate what the city has done (and not done) since the end of apartheid, but it is because Cape Town is such an interesting and dynamic place, and one that has been a second home to me, that I want to contribute in some small way toward positive change.


I feel like this offers a pretty good summary of why I find Cape Town and South Africa as a whole so interesting.

I leave one month from today - it still doesn't seem real.