We got off the plane in Johannesburg, met our guide Pieter, dropped our luggage at Flossie’s B&B, and plunged right into Soweto. Nothing like getting right down to the business of being immersed in South Africa.
Earthstompers, our tour company, arranged with Lebo’s Backpacker for us to take a bike tour of Soweto.
Soweto is an acronym for SOuthWEst TOwnships; townships are ghettos/slums set up for non-whites during apartheid. IN the 60s, 70s, and 80s, Soweto gained an international reputation for protest, ANC activity, and violence in the news.
When I posted photos of our bike ride in Soweto on Facebook, I instantly got hits with “Is it safe?” “Are you sure you should be doing that? Not all places are safe for travel…”
Soweto has changed.
We found bikes that fit, at least reasonably well enough to ride, got on, and bounced up a hill right away. We paused to look at the cityscape, then rode through township dirt roads between the shacks, over ruts and rocks, and through standing water and whatever else flowed or was piled in the streets.
It was dusty, it was hot, and it wasn’t an easy ride. But we did it. Our bike guide Thando (“Tando” which means “love”) greeted people on almost every street. She had friends everywhere. Never did we feel unsafe.
We felt welcomed. Yes, we had sense enough to be cautious, and to stick together, but we felt warmth from people in Soweto, and we couldn’t help but respond with warmth, too.
Thando took us to a sheebeen,
where we sipped homemade (STRONG, frothy, well-fermented) beer from a calabash (hollowed out gourd),
and ate the sheebeen’s house dish: “Smiley” – cow cheek, which was mostly gristle and not easy to chew or swallow.
Know the word shebeen?
Shebeens are local, home-housed taverns. During apartheid Africans weren’t allowed to own businesses and absolutely were not allowed into whites’ bars; individuals started selling alcohol out of their own homes, and they became small private taverns. The shebeen tradition continues to this day. The one we visited was housed in a tin shack like so many other township buildings. Much fun! Local beer is also sold in cartons–like milk cartons. Ours bore this warning:
beer carton and exterior of the shebeen
We bumped our way to a picnic by the river under thatched-roof shelters, where we ate bunny chow (quarter-loaf of bread hollowed out and filled with rich, yummy meat and vegetable stew). Thando reminded us, as she had when we ate cow cheek, “No [effin’]forks!”
Then we mounted up again and road back up the hill to Nelson and Winnie Mandela’s house in Soweto, which we toured, and to the Hektor Pietersen Museum. Stay tuned for info about those places in the next post!
We’ll never forget the shebeen, and Thando, we’ll never forget you, either. You helped Soweto welcome us, so we welcomed it into our hearts.
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