Close Encounters of the South African Kind

About the Book

Hamilton Malaza was a 19-year-old Zulu journalist in 1976. He had visited us in our apartment in Johannesburg several times. Each time he had promised to take Mary and me to meet his parents and his sisters in their township of Kwa-Thema, near Johannesburg.  Finally, in November, Hamilton came to our Hillbrow flat and presented us with our permit, issued by the Department of Bantu Affairs, which allowed us to legally visit the township….

IT IS THE evening of November 27, a Saturday. Hamilton and his father pick us up in their 1965 Buick and drive us to Kwa-Thema.  I think we are all a little nervous. Conversation is limited to an exchange of pleasantries and other innocuous remarks about the weather, the traffic and the scenery.

November is a late-spring, early-summer month in South Africa, and this evening is a gorgeous one, Only a few tiny puffs of clouds are scattered across the deep blue sky. According to the radio, it is 27 degrees Celsius (83 degrees Fahrenheit) and according to my observations, there is only a timid breeze. Traffic is light once we escape the outskirts of Johannesburg and roll through the countryside on a two-lane, asphalt road. About an hour after leaving our flat, we see the sign:  “Kwa Thema.”

We turn right at the sign and follow the asphalt roadway into the township.  We pass the building which houses the office of Bantu Administration, but no one stops us.  I ask Hamilton why we didn’t have to stop to show our visitor permits. He tells me that often it is not necessary for just a six-hour visit. It is 6:18.  Our permits say that we must leave Kwa-Thema no later than midnight.

Soon after passing the Bantu Affairs office, the asphalt road turns into dusty clay that is lined on both sides by tiny, one-story tin, mud and brick houses.  Mary and I try not to stare at the blacks walking along the roadside, youngsters and adults.  But they stare at us. I tell Mary they must be wondering what those white people are up to.  Hamilton and his father smile.

I have my camera with me and am anxious to take some pictures, but I’m afraid of the potential reaction, so the pictures are lost forever. I leave the camera on the floor of the car until we reach Hamilton’s place at 4 Rala-Rala Street.

Rala-Rala Street is asphalt one-lane wide, but the dust is still thick. Grass is almost non-existent, and the tiny shrubs sticking their green heads up in the middle of the bareness seem out of place.

“Here is our humble home,” Hamilton says as he opens the car door for us and waves toward the tin house. We follow the Malazas into the house where we are introduced to Hamilton’s mother, his two sisters, an uncle and a good friend, Isaiah Zwane, who is an assistant inspector of Bantu Education and who had been Hamilton’s primary school principal.

Mary praises Mrs. Malaza for the immaculate condition of the house.  “I don’t know how you can keep everything so neat and clean with all the dusty roads and everything,” she says as Mrs. Malaza stretches her arms straight down in front of her, her hands together and her head bowed in humble acceptance of the compliment.  She then excuses herself and joins her daughters in the kitchen to continue preparations for dinner.

The rest of us sit in the living room and talk.  Hamilton, Mary and I are on the couch which is angled across a corner opposite the door.  In an easy-chair to the right of the door is Hamilton’s uncle and next to him in a folding chair is Mr. Malaza.  And seated in an easy chair at the end of the sofa, nearest me, is Mr. Zwane....

Later in the eveving, internationally-known Mr. Lucas Sithole leads us into his living room and gets us seated. Mr. Sithole then goes to his workshop in the back of his white stucco home, also with no use for the services of General Electric, and retrieves a three-foot tall kerosene lantern.  It looks like one of the nicer models Sears advertises for use by Americans who like to rough-it on their camping

About the Author

Mike Kielkopf is in his 7th year of teaching high school English at the American Community School of Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates. He has taught full-time for 18 years. Kielkopf also spent 10 years as a daily newspaper reporter and editor, most recently at The Argus, Rock Island, Ill. There he earned numerous writing awards from the Associated Press, Education Writers Association and Illinois Press Association. In 1984 Kielkopf’s editorials won first place in the nation for his circulation category in the William Allen White competition sponsored by the University of Kansas. Kielkopf has published over 10,000 articles plus a 1984 book on University of Iowa athletics. Kielkopf, an Ottumwa, Iowa, native, holds M.A. and B.A. degrees from the University of Iowa, Iowa City. He is married to the former Mary Guernsey of Waterloo, Iowa. They have one son, Matt, born Aug. 22, 1984.