To Port Elizabeth and Back Again 3

March 23, 2004 - No Rivalries
As Thoko, John, Elize, Rose, Amy, George, and I all sat around the table in the intimate, lush garden patio at the Conifer Bed and Breakfast, our chit chat interestingly turned to college sports. George was hoping that DePaul was still in the NCAA tournament, as a long-time Illini fan, I was certain that Illinois had choked, and Amy promised John that if he wanted a sweatshirt from a “good” college team, football in particular, she would send him the best – Michigan. This opened up the opportunity for full-fledged Big 10 Rivalry fun and games. Amy and I playfully boasted about our teams and I was, sadly, forced to acknowledge that, yes, inevitably, Michigan seemed to beat Illinois in most things. I shared with everyone the trauma of my Uncle John calling my family (home to three Illinois alumni) to sing the Michigan fight song after the all-too-frequent, crushing defeats. Amy seized the opportunity to belt out the fight song over my resigned, but loyal protests, and there was much laughter. There was a warm camaraderie and a shared space of understanding – the support of a team, the good-natured teasing of a rival.

In the midst of the fun, Elize said something that really stuck with me. “In these days of reconciliation, John, we can’t afford to have these kinds of rivalries.” Thoko, Elize, and John then joked about setting up a truth and reconciliation board for Amy and me to work out our team differences. Again, we shared our laughter. I know this was lighthearted, but the comment has stayed with me. It reveals how necessary it is that the socio-political mindset of reconciliation seep into all aspects of life here as South Africa struggles just ten years after the end of the official Apartheid era.

Intellectually, I appreciate the need, deep need, to hold the ideas of truth and reconciliation as the banner for moving forward. The situation is so complex and multi-faceted that vengeance or even attempts to right the past wrongs would become a quagmire, but emotionally, it just seems so hard. I am also aware that this is a common European and American response to being confronted with this situation, but I can’t seem to “un-Americanize” myself in this situation. Can you keep your mind on the greater good? Could I, in Thoko’s shoes? She says that they must, but, can an entire country do it?