Soweto is an acronym for South Western Township. It evolved when a combination of mass migration to the Johannesburg gold mines in the thirties and the forced removal of multi-racial townships led to the creation of townships on ethnic lines.
We know and love many wonderful people in Soweto and have taught dozens of them in our Career and Self-Employment workshops. The Soweto Stake President is our director of Welfare Services in the Area Office. Nelson Mandela had a home in Soweto.
On one of our days off, a group of missionaries toured some historical places in Soweto. One was a famous church, Regina Mundi (Queen of the World) which is the largest Roman Catholic Church in South Africa. Within its walls, people took refuge during apartheid and were shot at inside the church. There are still colored glass windows that bear the scars of those bullet holes. We visited with school children at the church and enjoyed their happy spirits. You can see an albino child in one of the photos that is whiter than I am. They take care to avoid the sun whenever possible. I suppose their skin is even more sensitive than mine.
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| (Michelle Obama's name on top page in the middle) |
At one point, the Catholic tour guide, whose face was shaded by his “Smirnoff” cap, told me to stand at the center point on the raised area at the front of the chapel. He made a very big deal about how sacred and special the spot was where I placed my two feet. I expected a version of an eminent story of some spiritual being appearing on that very place. I listened with rapt attention for the ensuing story to unfold. Then the words came tumbling from his lips: “Michelle Obama stood on that very spot you are standing on.” I stepped aside and moved on. He later proudly showed us her signature on the guest page, along with Hillary Clinton’s. After we signed the registration page, I told the guide that he could now include in his narration that “Joy Basso walked through the church and signed the guest page.” He wasn’t particularly impressed. Neither was I. The tour was all part of the Soweto story we were grateful to experience.
We also visited the Hector Peterson Memorial. That’s an unusual name for an African compared to all of those we have met who have tribal names. The Pitso family changed their name to Pieterson or Peterson so that they could be perceived as “colored” instead of black for the purpose of better advantages. “Colored people” here are those who are not black and not white, such as Indians and others who are sandwiched in the “color” spectrum between black and white. When my eye caught a glimpse of the date on the commemorative stone tribute, I wept. It was 16 June 1976. In the summer of 1976 America celebrated the bicentennial of our freedoms and the beginnings of the United States of America. On 16 June 1976 our hearts were filled with joy as we celebrated the arrival of Heather, our beloved third child. It was especially exciting for Chuck because it was our first baby born after he returned from the Viet Nam War. He was finally allowed to be in the delivery room and be part of the welcoming committee for our beautiful, healthy daughter. He held her close and wept. We both did!
As we celebrated the joyful birth of our daughter, parents on the other side of the world were mourning the death of their son. On the very same day in South Africa, black youth rioted for what they felt were more favorable educational opportunities and police responded with tear gas and live bullets. One of the first students to be mortally wounded was 13 year-old Hector Pitso/Pierterson/Peterson. He became the symbol of the Soweto uprising. June 16th is a holiday here called “National Youth Day” and is commemorated as a memorial day to remember those precious young people who were killed trying to bring attention to their cause. The black and white photograph of Hector’s lifeless body is etched in the minds of all who view it.
Today more than 1.3 million people call Soweto home. Many of those homes still have no indoor plumbing and use a common outdoor water spigot. Christianity is the main religion in the township and many churches can be found there that meet in large tents or marquees, as they called. A photo is included of the first LDS Chapel built in the area. Some of the original church pioneers still exist in that area and have happy hearts and tender testimonies. They will forever be part of the Soweto story.
On one of our days off, a group of missionaries toured some historical places in Soweto. One was a famous church, Regina Mundi (Queen of the World) which is the largest Roman Catholic Church in South Africa. Within its walls, people took refuge during apartheid and were shot at inside the church. There are still colored glass windows that bear the scars of those bullet holes. We visited with school children at the church and enjoyed their happy spirits. You can see an albino child in one of the photos that is whiter than I am. They take care to avoid the sun whenever possible. I suppose their skin is even more sensitive than mine.
We also visited the Hector Peterson Memorial. That’s an unusual name for an African compared to all of those we have met who have tribal names. The Pitso family changed their name to Pieterson or Peterson so that they could be perceived as “colored” instead of black for the purpose of better advantages. “Colored people” here are those who are not black and not white, such as Indians and others who are sandwiched in the “color” spectrum between black and white. When my eye caught a glimpse of the date on the commemorative stone tribute, I wept. It was 16 June 1976. In the summer of 1976 America celebrated the bicentennial of our freedoms and the beginnings of the United States of America. On 16 June 1976 our hearts were filled with joy as we celebrated the arrival of Heather, our beloved third child. It was especially exciting for Chuck because it was our first baby born after he returned from the Viet Nam War. He was finally allowed to be in the delivery room and be part of the welcoming committee for our beautiful, healthy daughter. He held her close and wept. We both did!
Today more than 1.3 million people call Soweto home. Many of those homes still have no indoor plumbing and use a common outdoor water spigot. Christianity is the main religion in the township and many churches can be found there that meet in large tents or marquees, as they called. A photo is included of the first LDS Chapel built in the area. Some of the original church pioneers still exist in that area and have happy hearts and tender testimonies. They will forever be part of the Soweto story.
In the early evening, I walked out on the roof of our hotel to observe the sunset. There, I met a star-gazing couple cuddled up on a bench. The man was looking at his iPad with an astrology app mapping the western sky. When I heard their American accents, a conversation ensued that revealed he worked for the State Department. The girl had graduated from Cerritos High School where Chuck and I had taken a ceramics class many years ago. She had attended Cerritos College across the street from the Stake Center where we attended church for 37 years. It’s a small world in this vast universe God created!
It was so much fun having Bryan visit us. I was getting homesick for the family so seeing Bryan was a great blessing. His visit gave me the hope I needed to survive our final stretch of service here in Africa. Everywhere we went, people loved Bryan and wanted to talk to him. He took us on some wonderful adventures that we would not have otherwise been able to enjoy. I’m slow getting photos processed and experiences ready for posting because on the final leg of our adventure in the bush country, I was bitten on my legs by a flesh-eating spider and a giant African tick. I became deathly ill and required divine intervention to survive. I was fearful of being bitten by a malaria-carrying mosquito as I am a mosquito magnet, but was unsuspectingly devoured by one of the multitude of spiders we encountered. I was treated with Malaria medicine that seemed at times to exacerbate the symptoms. As I endured the darkest and most difficult night to hang onto life I heard these strains of music and the words went through my aching head. 
