Robben Island and the Gynaecologists

Cape Town is hosting a convention of gynaecologists. Eight thousand (8,000!) of them have descended on the city and a fair chunk of them were on the 3pm to Robben Island. The scramble to do an emergency delivery would certainly have caused the boat to capsize! It was our first visit to the former penal colony. We had previously tried to get there no less than four times. Bad weather was the usual reason. Last March they were culling rabbits for a month.

Robben Island is a grim place. Its history is grim. Its message is grim. Nothing can hide its grimness. Its curious blend of remoteness and nearness made it ideal as a one-time slave warehouse, leper colony, madhouse and perhaps the best known jail-house in history. The door leading into the block where Mandela was incarcerated is a solid rock positioned on a small rail track. Ex prisoners tell their story. I imagine they sound just like the apostles in the first century, keeping alive a memory, in some strict formula, of their much venerated hero.

Yet the island is beautiful, with its forlornness, its isolation and its wild life. With its breathtaking views of Cape Town, it has a feeling of being suspended in time awaiting a recreation of itself. But the weight of its past bears down on it and its desolate features can only echo its grim memories.

On the voyage to and from the island, we met two people from Jo’burg. Newly married Sean of Portuguese stock and Nadia a Cape-Malay from Durban already had 4 children from their former marriages. They shared their dreams with us. As we parted, we knew they were a portrait of a new life in South Africa, beyond the vision of the blind oppressors of Robben Island.

By the way, the rabbits outnumbered the gynaecologists. The penguins stole the show!