Some losses for urban blacks and some possibilities
The trip is almost a parody of a see-the-stars'-homes guided tour through Beverly Hills. Visiting VIP'S may now enjoy government-sponsored minibus excursions through Soweto, the sprawling black ghetto on the southwestern rim of Johannesburg that is home to 1,500,000 urban blacks.
Tour guides point out the homes of Soweto's black leaders (most of whom are, or have been, detained for antigovernment activities). The visitors also see the charred remains of buildings burned during the riots of 1976. Presumably, the tourists also note such sights as unemployed blacks drinking at Soweto's government-sponsored beer halls, or youths—rebellious dropouts from inadequate, segregated schools—furtively passing marijuana joints back and forth on dusty street corners. The object of the tours is to show foreigners that Soweto is "peaceful" again, following the epochal riots that began there two years ago, spread to other townships and eventually killed 618 people. Last week TIME Johannesburg Bureau Chief William McWhirter paid an anniversary visit to Soweto, which has become a symbol of black anger and frustration. His report:
By government measurements, perhaps, Soweto is peaceful once more. A year ago, the militant young blacks who launched the antiapartheid protests in 1976, and who became the community's dominant political force, orchestrated an impressive commemoration. "The Children," as they had come to be called, decreed a two-day general strike. They shut down the beer halls and suspended sports events so that Sowetans could gather in churches to honor the dead with hymns extolling black power.
By contrast, the second anniversary observance last week was brief. There was no work stoppage to hobble Johannesburg homes and offices; blacks were too worried by rising unemployment to risk dismissal. Shops closed, but only for a few hours. There was no defiant stone tossing at police who had thrown up heavy roadblocks and who cruised the areas where observances were held. A police official had warned one leader of the community: "If one stone is thrown, I won't even waste my men's time in coming to pick you up. I will send word for you to pack your suitcase and report to Modderbee Prison for detention." The warning was believed. Admitted one of The Children: "The police have scared everybody, even us."
Since last June's protests South African authorities have moved efficiently to chop at the roots of black resistance. A year ago, The Children had power enough to force the resignation of Soweto's 41-member Urban Bantu Council for being too subservient to white control and to close most of the ghetto's secondary and high schools in a student-led boycott. They even helped speed the resignation of M.C. Botha, an archconservative who was South Africa's Minister of Bantu Administration. Since then, however, The Children have been shadowed, jailed and harassed to the point of impotency. So have others, including members of the Committee of Ten, a group that linked youth with older black-consciousness leaders.