November 2002			The Days of the Dolphins Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad Bear? Annual Report 2001-2002 Annual Donor Report 2001-2002	E Line Sports Alumni Passages Books From the Field Classes First-Person Huskiana
		Michael C. McDermott, AS'99 A couple of months before my wedding, I was sitting at a table in the Radisson Hotel near Providence with my fiancée, her parents, two limousine company executives, and another engaged couple, who were joined by the future groom’s parents. We were enjoying a prewedding ritual: the free sampling of reception dinners and desserts. As we polished off our appetizers and waited for the main course, the conversation turned to honeymoon destinations. The other couple was going to Disney World. I told them we were headed to South Africa. Hearing that, the groom’s father wondered aloud if I planned to take a gun. His son asserted that murder and rape were part of everyday life in South Africa. Neither had ever set foot there. I wasn’t surprised by their remarks. I have heard similar comments—often from people who don’t know the difference between South Africa and, well, any other African country—ever since I decided to go to Cape Town in 1998 for a Northeastern study-abroad program. On that trip, I discovered a country with more than its share of problems. Crime is certainly one, although in many categories it has decreased since the end of apartheid. The AIDS epidemic is catastrophic. And terrible poverty exists uneasily beside great wealth, fueling the political tension associated with such disparity. But to me, South Africa also seems like a miracle. It’s a place where repression existed on an epic scale for approximately 300 years, from the beginning of extensive European colonization to apartheid’s demise in 1994. Yet the transition to democracy was peaceful. The former victims of repression, the nonwhites who make up more than 90 percent of the population, have demonstrated a willingness to coexist with their former oppressors. South Africa stands as a bulwark of democratic ideals in a region that is slipping into authoritarianism. I’ll always be grateful to my wife for giving me a reason to return. Our honeymoon was a cross-country drive in a rented car—some 2,500 miles, from the sun-swept beaches of Cape Town, to Kruger National Park, to the crowded sprawl of Soweto. We wanted to enjoy what can be experienced only in Africa: the abundant wildlife, the untamed landscapes, the wonderful people. But the trip also gave me a chance to catalog what had changed in the four years since my first visit. I was saddened to see that so much remains to be done. The South African government has still not addressed the AIDS crisis satisfactorily; statistics indicate that up to a quarter of South Africans in their twenties are HIV-positive. The twin issues of income disparity and crime have created urban decay, as the wealthy move out to the suburbs. On the other hand, I saw several important improvements. More poor regions have electricity. Paved roads run through villages that once had none. And, to my surprise, people expressed a degree of confidence about their place and their future in modern South Africa. This was not the case in 1998, when I met people largely gloomy about their prospects. Of course, South Africans need only look north to understand how fragile their new democracy might be: Zimbabwe, gripped by famine, is experiencing a turbulent slow-motion revolution that has its roots in British colonialism and the displacement of native Africans from their lands. After decades of British colonization, in 1964 a neofascist white minority commandeered political power in Zimbabwe. To ward off the growing threat of conflagration, a landmark settlement allowed the imposition of majority rule in 1980. But little truly changed, and conditions for blacks stagnated. Then, two years ago, the government of Robert Mugabe, fearful of being called to account for its failures, began a violent campaign of land seizures, demonstrating a growing indifference to basic democratic principles. South Africa’s colonial history, apartheid legacy, and profound inequities closely mirror Zimbabwe’s experience. The biggest difference is the absence of a demagogue figure like Mugabe, but that’s not to say one could not someday emerge. To safeguard their country, South Africans must forge a stronger partnership that better shares their country’s banks, mines, and farmland. All sides have already proclaimed themselves willing to work toward this goal. Steady and peaceful progress will require civic responsibility from everyone involved. Over the last decade, the United States has helped South Africa build schools, establish businesses, and train professionals. But ordinary Americans can contribute to South Africa’s future in other, simpler ways. We can support groups fighting AIDS in the region. We can visit the country to take in its many pleasures, making a much-needed investment in its economy. Most important, perhaps, we can urge better engagement by the U.S. government with South Africa and other progressive African countries. In general, Americans don’t really understand the issues that affect Africa. This has contributed to national attitudes that are, in varying ways, indifferent, paternalistic, or dismissive, and that affect the extent to which our government gives African countries investment money, development assistance, and technical expertise. We should remember that when we write off or only partially recognize the struggles of an entire continent, we do a grave disservice to millions of good people.