On Tuesday and Wednesday we had classes at UCT’s Graduate School of Business. It’s in an old prison, and our teacher said they “imprison your body so they can free your mind.” It’s right near the waterfront, which is what Fisherman’s wharf would be if it were melded with a really cool mall like San Francisco Centre.
The classes were great, we learned a lot about apartheid and about what’s changed in the 14 years since it ended. Most of the professors were white, but one was mixed race and had survived unspeakable horrors as a kid. Of the many tremendous pearls of wisdom he left us with, I am kinda stuck on the explanation of his last name, which is April.
He said that because interracial friendships, and of course parenting, were illegal, children of interracial parents couldn’t be given either parent’s surname, as it would indemnify them. So they were named for the month in which they were born. His surname was April, and he mentioned the phone book was full of people with month names. Here’s a whole page of Septembers. I met one today, too, and told her how happy I was to meet her, and that is one law I am very glad to see was broken by so many people. It only proves that you can’t stop love.