More about jobs and not having jobs

Unemployment is a complex issue in any country. In South Africa, the spectrum was broad: at any given time, there might be five employees lounging behind the "order here" counter in a restaurant, but the unemployment rate in other sectors is high. I'm glad those five people have jobs and don't wish unemployment for them, but I don't understand it.

Ronda explained that Apartheid kept many people from getting education, so the only jobs available for them are in blue collar industries -- mall security, service at restaurants, and construction. The short time we were there wasn't enough to study this inequality. Plus, we were tourists. We didn't want to solve any problems, though we were certainly aware of them.

I can't very easily talk about poverty and unemployment in South Africa without talking about races. I was hoping to avoid this subject, but I had a brief interaction with a black man late in our stay that made me acutely aware of how little I know. It is my lack of knowledge that is the subject of this entry, much more than any political situation.

The South African malls are beautiful. They have everything: restaurants, electronics, camera stores, grocery stores, clothing (their Woolworth's is the equivalent of our Nordstrom), and home furnishings. They are big and gorgeous. Remember, though, that they close at 6:00 (before dark), for safety reasons. That makes it hard for the average person to shop during the week. Everyone goes on Saturdays, and the malls are crowded. A lot of white people go to malls. Probably because of transportation and money, a lot of black people shop at roadside stands. Even with their intimidating size and early closing times, we enjoyed the malls.

One day, as we were leaving a store, headed for our car, I noticed a black security guard a few meters away watching me. Brian and Ronda were talking to each other, but I saw the guard and wondered why he was scrutinizing me. I hoped he didn't think I was shoplifting. Then it went through my mind that because we are white, we stand out. Not so much in a mall, but still we are white. Without making any more guesses, I waved and smiled at him. The previously serious guard waved and gave me the biggest grin I'd ever received from a stranger. I was so glad I hadn't regarded him as just another employee and ignored him.

We got to the parking lot, and I was still thinking about this man. I told Brian and Ronda about him as we reached the car. I was quite puzzled about why the man seemed to suspect me but turned out to be friendly. Was he waiting to see if I would acknowledge him? My (sort of) exact words were, "It almost seems like whites have treated them badly."

Ronda laughed. She said, "Let's see" and drummed her fingers on her chin. "Could whites ever have mistreated blacks in South Africa?"

It takes a trip to a country for me to learn. I knew about Apartheid and Nelson Mandela's imprisonment and rise to leadership. The little bit I know about South Africa was from the news and conversations with friends. I didn't know about racism until a black security guard watched me, seemingly wondering if I was another white person who would dismiss or mistreat him.