Robert Hargrove

The Trip of a Lifetime

I visited South Africa with my two sons, Adam and Morgan, years ago during the time of “the troubles” and fell in love with the spectacular beauty and the wonderful people of the country. I was asked by a local hospital in Elim, a place in the Northern Transvaal, to do a three-day event called “The Battle of the Races.”

Prior to the event, Stephen Tischauser, a Swiss doctor doing an internship in SA, gave us a cook’s tour of the township of Elim. We saw people cooking over smoky fires in huts and children dressed in no better than rags. But what impacted my sons and I the most was a visit to a local school where we saw children who stood along the white bungalows with thatched roofs dressed in English school uniforms—white shirts, striped tie, short pants. Everyone was so friendly to us.

After shaking hands with 40 to 50 people, we were invited to hear a gospel concert in the music hall. The children’s magnificent voices erupted in something so soul-stirring and sublimely powerful that my sons (then 7 and 9) and I all burst into tears. It was a moment of revelation, a moment of seeing the power of the human spirit released into action when given a chance. The contrast between these beautiful children in proper school clothes singing the gospel and the ragged street kids touched us in a powerful and profound, and yet indescribable way.

Later that day, we arrived at the lovely country hotel (a former estate) where the “Battle of the Races” workshop was to take place. As we had breakfast looking out at the mountainside grape vineyards, it seemed strange to us all that the Bill Cosby Show was on the TV, depicting a rich doctor and his wife and kids in a NY flat. It seemed even stranger to my kids that all of the employees of the hotel continually addressed them as “Master” during our entire visit. “Yes Master,” “No Master.” “Anything I can do for you Master?”

The next day we began the “Battle of the Races” Workshop with the goal of getting dialogue underway that would build shared understanding and perhaps lead to something new. In the workshops, I attempted to graciously provoke people on both sides of the fence to discuss the undiscussable with each other. This took some time, but eventually turned into a red hot dialogue, which was an eye opening experience for all.

The whites complained that they didn’t trust the blacks because they wouldn’t looked them in the eye. The blacks responded that they did this because they didn’t want to be struck down or blamed for something.

After the workshop, one of the participants, a young 20-something man named William went to the post office to mail a letter and stepped through the main door rather than go around the back as blacks were expected to do during those days. The Postmaster asked William, who was very polite, “What are you doing here?” to which he replied, “I have come to mail a letter.” When William declined to leave, the Postmaster called the police, who came and arrested William and took him away.

Later that day, William was released and the next morning he returned to the post office again with a small group of people who had attended my Battle of the Races Workshop. The Postmaster again said, “What are you doing here?” and William replied, “I’ve come to mail a letter.” This time the postmaster, perhaps having given thought to arresting someone for something as simple as walking in the main door to mail a letter, smiled and took the letter from him.

William reported this story at the reunion held three days after the workshop, and I have to say, my heart soared like an eagle upon hearing it. From that point on, I felt a definite part of the journey of transformation South Africa was on, eventually culminating in the liberation of Mandela from prison in Robben Island. I was so inspired when I heard that on his inauguration as president, he invited his former jailers to stand on the platform with him as he took his oath of office.

After the reunion and a lovely dinner spent with a beautiful South African lady whose father was a wealthy Boer landowner, my boys and I went on a safari to Botswana on a specially charted plane. My son Morgan, who got chickenpox during the trip and itched so bad he couldn’t walk, still teases me about leaving him by a tree at a remote Bushmen camp 100 miles from civilization as the rest of us went off down a trail to look at some cave drawings. “What was I thinking?” It was a trip of a lifetime with lions, elephants, and rhinos all at close quarters.

It’s been a long time since those days, but all these memories returned to me when I got a beautiful letter from Julia Paris, a librarian at Johannesburg University, talking to me about her passion for coaching and mentoring and the role this was starting to play in the emergence of the new South Africa. Please see my next blog…