First Kimpressions

After a two-week, conference room-concentrated orientation in Cape Town, I embarked upon my 1,000 km/9 hour trek up to Kimberley, South Africa along with two other interns. The three of us make up the hopefully dynamic, seemingly eccentric trio of practically perfect strangers destined to live and work together for a year, otherwise known as Team Kimberley. Our vehicle of (no)choice was the “Toyota Tazz” we’ve somewhat unfoundedly dated as a 1985 model. This constituted my first major attempt to learn to drive a standard transmission vehicle, on the left side of the road, through hours and hours of flat, desolate, desert. Key obstacles to avoid: ostriches, baboons, and overzealous semi-truck drivers in the opposite lane. We arrived at what we could only presume would be our home sweet home away from home—the “Gateway 2 Heaven”—around midnight. We were warmly received by an impenetrable, electronically locked gate. Auspicious beginning to the year, I know.

Kimberley is, unexpectedly, a decently sized city in the heart of South Africa, and it’s very much dominated by the mining industry. Our office is in the DeBeers –A Diamond is Forever – headquarters, and the most lauded city attraction is a massive hole filled with toxic mining waste. Apparently it’s the largest man-made hole in the world. It’s aptly named, “The Big Hole.”

It’s strange, sometimes uncomfortable, and often fascinating to live in a world that is so racially charged. Kimberley, like the rest of South Africa I’ve been fortunate enough to experience, is strongly divided by race, and consequently, class. The disparity of wealth is shocking. I run through gated neighborhoods with meticulously manicured lawns, and fountains, and other silly and unnecessary niceties, but in a few minutes drive I can be in the middle of Galeshewe, one of Kimberley’s major townships. While Galeshewe does seem better off than some of the others I’ve seen, it’s a township nonetheless. Thousands of people are densely packed into a concentrated district of tin and concrete, seemingly one-room houses. The ground is ridden with trash. Mangy dogs patrol around. Minibus taxi drivers honk constantly.

It’s easy to accentuate “the bad,” especially when everything I see is so different, and it’s a goal of mine to better understand the beauty, the joy, and the potential Galeshewe boasts. When all is said and done though, I’m fairly confident this type of insane inequality will remain inexplicable in my mind.