Leaving South Africa

"Why would you leave all that beautiful weather to come to this cold and rainy island?” I still get asked this sort of question, six years after leaving Johannesburg to live in the United Kingdom. In fact I was born in London, but my parents decided to move back to South Africa when I was little. Fifteen years later, the apartheid regime had ended, Nelson Mandela was president, and, lets just say, things in South Africa were chaotic.

Bristol
ALEXANDER CAMINADA/REX

At the age of 17, I was like many British students. I was concentrating on getting fantastic matric results (similar to A levels) to get in to the University of Witwatersrand medical school. My interview had gone well, I got the results I needed, and was duly accepted. Everything should have seemed rosy, but six months into my first year of medical school, my mother and I were on a London-bound flight, anxious about what we were leaving behind and fearful of what we were going to encounter.

So what on earth could have made us take such a radical step?

When I try to tell people about the way of life in Johannesburg, they duly reply “Oh, isnt that awful.” But I can tell that most people think I am exaggerating everything, that life cant possibly be like that. People in Johannesburg live their lives in fear—and I am not only referring to the wealthy white population. The crime rate is even worse for the black population who are still living in extreme poverty in shacks in townships like Soweto.

It is not advisable to drive at night as this is just asking for your car to be hijacked—if you must, ignore red traffic lights and keep driving at all cost. Driving during the day is not much better. When stopped at a junction, cars are surrounded by beggars who threaten you with tsotses (literally meaning bad men) if you dont give them money. My mothers handbag was pulled out of her car while she was driving, shortly before we left. Yet there is no alternative to driving. Walking is out of the question—you would be asking to be mugged or raped—and public transport is either non-existent or life threateningly dangerous (the hospitals are full of patients injured by the infamous “black taxis”). Everyone I know has been touched by crime in one way or another, from the relatively “harmless” stolen handbag to my sisters best friend who was tied up in her home, naked, with her 6 month old baby, while burglars ransacked her house. People said afterwards how “lucky” she was not to have been raped or killed.

Putting that aside there were other reasons for leaving. Medicine was in crisis, with the then deputy president, Thabo Mbeki, saying that HIV was not a disease that required treatment. The government also decided that a pregnancy test wasnt an essential medical tool. And they decided to extend medical undergraduate training from six to nine years. The three additional years would be spent working unpaid in a rural hospital. And yes, you were expected to pay Rand 20 000 (£1606; €2336) a year for the privilege. Many of the senior doctors were leaving the country, along with accountants, lawyers, nurses, and other trained professionals, in what became known as the “brain drain.”

Affirmative action is another beauty of a law that was introduced. This law stated that should a black person and a white person apply for the same job, the black person would be given that job, regardless. I am not denying that a balance was, and still needs, to be redressed with regards to equal opportunities for employment and education. It will take many years before the effects of apartheid are diminished.

We moved back to London when I was 18. We stayed with my uncle at first. He had been banned from South Africa during the apartheid regime for his anti-apartheid ideas, as had my great uncle. My great uncle came back to visit when South Africa became democratic. Ironically, he was mugged on his first night back. My parents somehow managed to escape the South African polices attention in this respect. Yet I am still assumed to be racist by many British people, simply because I am South African and white.

I spent the next two years working for St Georges Hospital in London as a rehabilitation assistant and then as a surgical clinic assistant, while I tried to get official confirmation of my education status and applied to university. At the time I thought that working was “the end of the world.” But I am now extremely grateful for that hospital experience—it has helped me so much in my clinical studies. I was offered a place at university.

I am now three years into my course and have truly acclimatised to the British way of life, although I have to admit that snow is still a bit of a novelty. Yet I now find that I dont really fit in anywhere. When I phone my South African relatives I am told how posh and British I sound. One friend said I sounded like a Spice Girl. Of course all my British friends think I sound extremely South African.

A robot (can you spot it) in Johannesburg
ALEXANDER CAMINADA/REX

I am hugely grateful for the opportunities that I have got in England. I am getting a fantastic medical education in a lovely city. I can go and explore Europe by hopping on a train. If I want the sun, Spain is not an expensive option.

But Im not naive. I know that crime is a problem in the United Kingdom too. I know that medical education can sometimes leave much to be desired. The NHS is having problems that may well lead to its demise. And Britain has AIDS and racism too. I also cant help but think that my South African university friends are about to qualify as doctors while I still have three more years to go.

Still, I have no regrets. I truly appreciate the little things in life, now that I have been given the opportunity to do so again. For example, last week I was feeling stressed about my research project. I decided to calm myself down by going for a walk down the road, where I enjoyed seeing the unseasonably early blossoms on a tree. Let me tell you it may not seem much to you but having that freedom brought a great big grin to my face.