At thy call we shall not falter, firm and steadfast we shall stand…..

We all want to be the ‘good firsts’. The first man to land on the moon, the first white sangoma/traditional healer, the first black president, the first female nuclear physicists, the first one to obtain a University degree in the family. I was the first person in my family to graduate with a Doctorate (PhD), more so from an American University.  We are all eagerly waiting to hear of the first scientist to discover a vaccine against Human Immunodeficiency Virus (HIV). Being the first, always comes with a sense of pride, because you will always be regarded as a pioneer. History will always find a way of remembering and reminding you that you blazed the trail and set the tone. It is the same as being the first child. When it comes to being  the eldest child, it does not matter if you were the coolest kid in the playground, or a nerd, having a younger brother or sister meant that no matter what others though of you, you always had someone that thought you were the greatest person in the Universe…or you were regarded as the responsible and wise one. However, it does come with its cons. The first child becomes an experimental guinea pig. Parents are still learning with the first child, they are stricter and are always trying to improve their parenting skills on you. They even let the younger siblings get away with deeds that they most probably would have murdered you  for, should you have been the perpetrator. I am the oldest child. I know the feeling, and I still feel the brunt and the responsibilities that comes with it.

I believe that, the same ‘being the first phenomenon’ applied to us. Being the first black scholars at Settlers Agricultural High School. We had the responsibility to be well behaved so that more black children could be recruited in the coming years, our English was not very good so, it meant that we had to put in more time to study, so we can do well and understand the work. We had to learn to ignore some comments which were a bit hurtful from our fellow learners. Some were said in jest, most were psssed out of sheer ignorance while some were uttered out of malice. We developed a thick skin. On a brighter note, we were invited to have dinner with the School principal and his wife at his house. Mr Spike Van Schalkwyjk! How about that? How many scholars got invited to dine with the School Principal? We were the envy of many. That was one of the privileges of being the ‘first’!

At that tender age, I took almost everything personal but, I later got to understand that the situation was not only bad for us. In as much as it was challenging to see my white dorm mate as my peers, it was equally difficult for most white girls to share a shower or a dorm with me. I was raised to believe that white people are VERY superior to me and that I should respect them by all mean possible. At one point, my late grandmother told me that when I speak to ‘them’, I should not look them in the eye. Unless they ordered me to. I saw them as the ‘Invincibles’. Most white girls only interacted with black people and saw them as their servants, nannys or gardeners. Not their equals! Can you imagine how utterly difficult it must have been to now see me as their equal? To sit with me at the dining hall and share a meal with me on the same table? My mother was excited that I am now going to be exposed to a different race and enjoy privileges that she never did, and in the same light, some white parents were just as elated that finally, their children can now interact with black people and look at the world with a different eye because the apartheid system did not grant them the opportunity to openly interact with black people. They even encouraged them to make friends with us.

All that I know is that we were all young and innocent and we tried to make the best out of the daunting scenario unfolding in front of us. And we did make the best out of it! So much that someone sent me an inbox on my Facebook account saying that ‘Patricia, how come most of your Facebook friends are white? They are the Viljoens, Van Rensburgs, Rombouts, De Kooker, Tristem, De Wit, Humm,  Atterbury, etc’. I was also once accused for being a white apologist in some Facebook group for some of the points that I brought forward. At a later stage, apologies were muttered and we since agreed that I am indeed an apologist BUT, a ‘Truth Apologist’. Being a scientist, I went and did some statistics. Only 23% of my friends where white, 60% were black and the rest were other races. So what did he mean by ‘many’?

The Settlers school system  had to go through some form of metamorphosis, in order to accommodate all the learners, black and white. There were systems that were still in place, and were not relevant to the new democratic country. Some of the changes had to be made as the years progressed. Just like being a parent for the first time, the school learned and made changes as the years went by.

Every Friday at school, we all wore our smart school uniform. We wore royal blue skirts, white shirts, a tie, a blue school blazer and a basher hat. After breakfast, the whole school would walk from the dining hall to the school grounds. We would line up in front of the main hall. The Head Girl and the Head Boy would read out announcements. In my first year, the head boy was Claude Du Preez and head girl, Nicola (Nikky) Ward. Before dispersing to our respective classes, the Head Boy would command the whole school to stand at attention, to to turn, and face the direction of the Flag pole, . He would then shout: ‘AT THY CALL..’ While the flag is being raised, the whole school, including teachers, would recite ‘Die Stem van Suid Afrika’ in English: ‘ At thy call we shall not falter, Firm and steadfast we shall stand, At thy will to live or perish, O South Africa, dear land’. So, let me paint a picture: Here we have 4 black girls surrounded by hundreds of white learners, wearing a basher hat which was lined with a ribbon with the old South African flag colors, standing to attention while the old national flag which is often associated with apartheid  was being raised, reciting  ‘Die Stem’ with pride! I am actually both saddened and giggling at the same time as I write this. I mean back then, ‘Die Stem’ was generally disliked by black South Africans, because it was seen as triumphalist and associated it with the apartheid regime where one verse shows dedication to Afrikaners. But we recited it  and we did not even have any care in the world or any clue why we were doing it. Thanks to Bantu Education that we received in Primary school. We were taught to recite long poems and bible memory verses. So, ‘Die Stem’ was nothing. We probably got to know it much better that the white kids We knew that we had to follow the rules, do as we were told, do well in school and learn how to speak English like the white people did on TV!!

What is so profound however, is that bit by bit, many routines started falling off. As the whole country was changing, so was the school. The basher hats disappeared,  we stopped reciting ‘Die Stem’, the old South African flag disappeared and was soon replaced by the new flag. I saw all these changes and still did not understand why they were being implemented.  In 1993, I remember the boys celebrating because they did not have to go to conscription anymore. The apartheid government had a policy of compulsory military conscription for young white men who were expected to perform military service at regular intervals, starting with an extended training which began in the year immediately following the one in which they left school or as soon as they turned 16, whichever came last. That was many parent’s nightmare! No more going to the Army…! Changes benefited everyone in one way or the other…..

(This is a piece from a Memoir that I am putting together. I shall be sharing bits and pieces thereof before the publishing the book mid year)