Sharone Daniels, Ocean View
As we approach Human Rights Day, some family members and I went on vacation in Seaforth, Simon’s Town. Our family lived there, and I was born in Simon’s Town.
Our grandparents were Sabina and Jack Savage. Our family history goes back more than 200 years. Jack served in the Royal Navy and was from Sierra Leone.
Often people speak about District Six dispossession, and here we, as “Simonites”, share the same history.
As we walk through the main road in Simon’s Town, I take a deep breath, touching the stone walls and thinking how our ancestors had to walk up the mountains wearing minimum clothing and coming back down to build those walls that still stand to this day.
There was something different in the atmosphere. Something unfamiliar. We walked not having to look over our shoulder for a change. The once vibrant town has become sleepy.
Was this an experience and expression of what life could have looked like for us if we were not forcefully removed?
We stayed over at an Airbnb in Seaforth for a few days. The house was welcoming and beautiful. The host was generous and, of course, it came at a price but was worth it.
We took a conscious decision to support black-owned businesses as far as possible because of obvious reasons.
There are dogs barking at unfamiliar faces, sounds, and smells as we pass by their homes.
There’s an elderly couple, quiet, meditative, contemplatively working in the garden. As we came back down the road, they greet nervously before we enter the Airbnb we were staying at.
There was a truck cleaning the streets, and rough sleepers were hanging around in bus stops as if they were waiting to be transported on a new adventure, but this is their home. Who wouldn’t want to live in such tranquility?
The stone walls built by slaves, our ancestors, stand strong as if to convey a message to us to be resilient.
Everyone is calm and seems at peace, but who knows what rages on inside each of us?
Nervously as people pass us they stare and then greet in a squeaky voice as we pass each other on the pavement.
We walked with confidence in our town. Chest out, shoulders straight and heads held high. Not in an arrogant way but because we belong. Our ancestors walk alongside us and live on through us.
Is it not time that we talk about reparation of some sort for all those who once lived in Simon’s Town or elsewhere? Reparation in the form of a discounted fee on visits to the restaurants, to book holiday accommodation etc in our hometown. Not only to come back to our final resting place but to relive a renewed sense of home.
This doesn’t mean that we do not want to pay. We will pay for the spoils and have paid with our pain that runs so deep within our DNA. Perhaps a thought for the business community.
Love to all “Simonites” that held us together for all these years. We salute you as you taught us that humanity is important and not only the dog, penguins and material goods.
