In his autobiography, Long Walk to Freedom, Nelson Mandela describes some of the painful realities black South Africans faced during the decades of apartheid: To be an African in South Africa means that one is politicized from the moment of one's birth, whether one acknowledges it or not.In his autobiography, Long Walk to Freedom, Nelson Mandela describes some of the painful realities black South Africans faced during the decades of apartheid:

To be an African in South Africa means that one is politicized from the moment of one's birth, whether one acknowledges it or not. An African child is born in an Africans Only hospital, taken home in an Africans Only bus, lives in an Africans Only area, and attends Africans Only schools, if he attends school at all.

When he grows up, he can hold Africans Only jobs, rent a house in Africans Only townships, ride Africans Only trains, and be stopped at any time of the day or night and be ordered to produce a pass, failing which he will be arrested and thrown in jail. His life is circumscribed by racist laws and regulations that cripple his growth, dim his potential, and stunt his life. This was the reality, and one could deal with it in a myriad of ways.

I had no epiphany, no singular revelation, no moment of truth, but a steady accumulation of a thousand slights, a thousand indignities, a thousand unremembered moments, produced in me an anger, a rebelliousness, a desire to fight the system that imprisoned my people.¹

Mandela's words paint a powerful portrait of the "thousand indignities" that a black South African was forced to endure. In a post-apartheid South Africa, part of the work of transition involves the acknowledgement of past indignities by perpetrators and bystanders. It also involves the reclamation of dignity on the part of victims. Retaining or reclaiming one's name; taking small everyday steps as equal citizens in a democracy-these are actions of resistance and empowerment, attempts to build a society built on the foundations of respect and equality. These efforts-small and large-create the potential for a more stable future.

The following personal accounts from South Africans illustrate how the dignity and self-respect of individuals is such an important aspect of transitional justice; of rebuilding and healing a society to create a healthy and prosperous future.

What's in a Name?
Sydney, a teacher in one of Cape Town's townships, says that his kids now ask him why he does not have an African name. It's difficult for him to explain that he was named after one of his parent's employers during apartheid. Like other Africans, he was given a Christian name-one that could be easily pronounced and recognized by the English speaking people of South Africa. Sydney's name causes him pain, but it is also the name he has grown used to in his professional and public life in South Africa.

Erica was named after her mother's employer. A domestic in Johannesburg, Erica's mother worked endless days and was forced to forego her own dreams of an education so that she could support herself and her family. Like Sydney, Erica is a teacher now, and for the first time she is beginning to look at apartheid's past through the lens of her name, an intimate detail so close to her that the story behind it-that she was named after Eric, her mother's boss-makes her cringe.

Since apartheid ended there has been a resurgence in naming children traditional names, so the English names of apartheid days stand out.

In her memoir, Don't Let's Go to The Dogs Tonight, Alexandra Fuller recalls when, as a white child in Zimbabwe, she first learned the full name of an African. Following the war for independence, when Southern Rhodesia became Zimbabwe, schools were integrated. Previously, Fuller was at an all-white school with primarily Afrikaans and English children. After the revolution, native children came to the school. Fuller remembers meeting a black classmate, Oliver Chiweshe, for the first time,

I have not known the name of a single African until now. Oliver Chiweshe. Until now I only knew Africans by their Christian names: Cephas, Douglas, Loveness, Violet, Cloud, July, Flywell. I am learning that Africans, too, have full names. And not only do Africans have full names, but their names can be fuller than ours. I try and get my tongue around Joshua Mqabuko Nyongolo Nkomo; Robert Gabriel Mugabe; the Reverend Canaan Sodindo Banana; Bishop Abel Tendekayi Muzorewa: these are the names of our new leaders.²

Everyday Humiliations
A Day at the Beach
Brigitte's father grew up swimming and playing on Cape Town's marvelous beaches. He promised Brigitte, her mother, and her sister that one day they would go as a family. During apartheid, Brigitte's family was classified as coloured. Her mother is very dark and her father is very light. On the day that they went to the beach, the officials there mistook her mother for a servant and told her father that he could swim, but he could not bring his servant or her family. He said if his family could not join him, he could not go there himself, and he left. Brigitte said that she and her family cried the entire way home. It was the first time she saw her father cry.

"Only Their Home was ‘Normal'"
Vernon's father was a contractor in Cape Town. As a young boy, Vernon sometimes helped him in small ways. One day, the owner of a building that Vernon's father was working on came to the site. The owner began yelling at Vernon's father, saying "Coloured people are stupid and incompetent." Vernon's father put his head down in an expression of surrender. At that moment, Vernon said, a gulf grew between him and his father. He could not tolerate the humiliation that he witnessed, and he blamed his father for seeming to pander to the white man. Vernon's parents always told him that the world outside their home-the world of apartheid-was abnormal; that their home was "normal." As Vernon stood watching the white owner humiliate and shame his father, he wondered why his father could not make the situation normal and then he realized that his father only had power in his own home.

A Night Out
Most people think of going to a restaurant as a relaxing treat. One might go for a celebration, to meet friends, or just to enjoy a meal out. During apartheid, it was impossible to go to restaurants in the "white" areas. Now that restaurants are open to everyone, many of South Africa's majority are finding that going to a restaurant is a potential ordeal that they would prefer to avoid. One man recalled that he first went to a restaurant when he was 17. He had avoided them because he was afraid of being kicked out or of being publicly humiliated. Several of his colleagues nodded their heads while listening to his experience. They said that restaurants can make them nervous and anxious. They feel that they are being watched, that people-primarily white people-are waiting for them to make some kind of mistake.

Connections for the Classroom...

• The names Erica and Sydney are reminders for those two individuals of the pain and inequality of apartheid. And yet it is not that simple, for those two names also paint a portrait-the joys and sorrows, successes and failures, physical and emotional qualities-of two complex human beings.
  
  Think about your own name. Research the origins of your name (it may be helpful to interview parents, grandparents or other family members and friends). How does your name connect you to your family history? What aspects of your name make you proud? Are there aspects that might bring up feelings of shame or embarrassment for you? Write your responses in your journal, or discuss them with a classmate.

• Brigitte and her family forced to leave the beach; Vernon seeing his father humiliated; the person feeling discomfort at the restaurant-all of these experiences are linked to the humiliation and oppression of apartheid in South Africa. They are cases of human beings treated unfairly because of the color of their skin.
  
  Think of a time in your own life when you were treated unfairly-or witnessed someone else being treated unfairly-because of skin color or gender, religious beliefs or sexual orientation, place of origin, or another quality that makes up an individual identity. In your journal, write down this experience. First try to write down the event with as much specific detail as you can remember. What actions did you take-or not take-during the event? What reactions did you have at the time? How do you feel about the event now, after time has passed?

• In his autobiography, Long Walk to Freedom, Nelson Mandela describes an experience he had in 1955, while on a trip to Cape Town:

  While I was walking in the city one day, I noticed a white woman in the gutter gnawing on some fish bones. She was poor and apparently homeless, but she was young and not unattractive. I know of course that there were poor whites, whites who were every bit as poor as Africans, but one rarely saw them. I was used to seeing black beggars on the street, and it startled me to see a white one. While I normally did not give to African beggars, I felt the urge to give this woman money. In that moment I realized the tricks that apartheid plays on one, for the everyday travails that afflict Africans are accepted as a matter of course, while my heart immediately went out to this bedraggled white woman. In South Africa, to be poor and black was normal, to be poor and white was a tragedy.³

  In your journal, reflect on Mandela's experience. Are there experiences or events you have witnessed that feel similar?
  
  "To be poor and black was normal, to be poor and white was a tragedy," writes Mandela. No one should need to resort to begging for their most basic needs: food and shelter. How do your perceptions of the situation change when the person in distress is a member of the group in power in a society rather than the group being oppressed?

¹ Long Walk to Freedom, by Nelson Mandela (Little, Brown and Company, Boston, 1995), p. 95. Courtesy of Little, Brown and Company.
² Don't Let's Go to The Dogs Tonight, by Alexandra Fuller (Random House, New York, 2001), pp. 145-146.
³ Mandela, p. 187.