Seattle

I had wanted to leave South Africa when I was fourteen. The even that caused my immediate change of heart about the country of my birth and my parents birth was seeing a police truck - really a pickup with a cage on the back, pull up in front of two black men, skidding to a halt followed by the police aggressively arresting the men by threatening to set their attack dogs on them even as the men obviously were no threat at all. This incident occurred no more than 20 feet away from me. The fear and terror in the eyes of them men as they were bundled away in the back of the truck was obvious to me then.

In school the very next day, were working on a project titled "Where I want to live". We had family friends who were Canadians from Vancouver BC, and the photographs I had seen were inspirational. The contrast was stark geographically, and I knew that I did not want to be in South Africa under the present regime. I did my project on Vancouver, BC. My teacher was horrified. I was the only person in a class of 30 who considered living elsewhere.

When I was 16, I traveled on the first multi-racial sports team to a gymnastics event in Germany. Understand that South Africa was banned from international competition, so participation in this international event was astonishing. Wide eyed, I toured Berlin. It was ironic that we resided next door to Spandau where Rudolph Hess was imprisoned while in Berlin. The trip home took us unto Austria and we had explored both East and West Berlin while there for two weeks. Outside of the war damage to East Berlin, the tight police control of the population reminded me more of South Africa than of Soviet Russia. Irony again because we were always told by the powers that be, that "our enemy is not black, its red". On that journey, I began to understand in greater depth the fear that the Afrikaners had for the Bantu. One tribe white, one black. Talking with kids of either race of my own age, I could see that the Bantu hated the Afrikaans, an the Afrikaners hated and feared the Bantu. South Africa was a powder keg.

Soon after my return to South Africa from the sports event in Germany, the native areas exploded in fire. The population started to riot. I lived in Johannesburg, in the northern suburbs quite close to Alexander Township. From my bedroom window, I could see the fires burning. At night, I could hear machine gun fire.

Tensions were rife. I was a senior in high school then, and faced with going into the army for two years straight, plus an additional 10 years of 3 month camps. The army was defending Apartheid. I was not willing to do that.

At about that time, my uncle, an anesthesiologist at a children's hospital in Seattle, became a US citizen - he had lived in the USA since the mid 60's with a short stint in SA during the 70's.

He applied for a visa for us, and shortly, within a year, we were granted green cards.

It all happened so fast. We applied in December and by September we were in the USA. I spent my time before we left working on various charitable causes - I was a first year University student by then. And I got a deeper look into the horrors of Apartheid. I helped distribute copies of a newspaper that was published on campus that simply cataloged the stories that other newspapers had published in one place. Short , one inch columns that reported events and things like "black man found dead in Durban" or "white mans shoots black woman suspected of theft" and so on. By themselves, not impressive, but together, overwhelming when faced with page after page of data from all over the country. Reading that magazine, it was clear that the country was on fire. The powder keg that was South Africa was about to explode.

When we finally left, September 1, 1977, that same weekend, Steve Biko was murdered.

We arrived at Sea Tac International airport after a weekend stop over in London.

The customs agent welcomed my by tearing up my pledge to join the military. "There is no draft in this country" he said as he did so. Literally, a 10,000 pound weight was lifted off my shoulders.
Since I was a little kid, 6 years old, I was being prepared to join the military. Even as a teenager, we had to register for the draft, and decide on our preference - I chose the Air Force. I was destined to be a soldier. That was the South African way. But arriving, and having that certain future evaporate before my eyes, was an unbridled pleasure. My first experience with the American Bureaucracy and it was a pleasure.

We were greeted by our family at the airport - in those days, before the death of common sense,family could still enter the airport gate areas. The had balloons and the sweetest American accents. Absolute music to my ears.

We arrived in Seattle on a public holiday. I did not understand that, but it was one of those all to rare 80 degree days in September - a perfect Seattle day with the North wind and high pressure system welcoming us.

The drive through town, on the way to my Uncles home, was surreal. Lakes, mountains, people standing around in their yards, washing their cars, walking through the neighborhoods without a care in the world.

Seattle seemed like heaven. Understand that I had lived in Johannesburg - a big dirty, ugly city with no redeeming value whatever. Seattle with its fresh air, sweeping views, lakes, waterfront every where, and greenery (Johannesburg is rather brown and red in midwinter) was absolutely spectacular. And it reminded me of Vancouver, BC - the fact is that I was only about 150 miles from Vancouver. I had succeeded at achieving my goal to live in the Pacific Northwest after all. Almost as soon as we arrived, we journeyed North to Canada to see our friends who had moved back by this time. And I really felt good. I registered for classes at the University of Washington, where I truly became Americanized. I made great friends, and learned how to get along in the USA on that campus.

As soon as the option to become a citizen arose, I jumped at the chance. The South African Military continued each year to call me up and each year I declined on the basis of being in school. Finally, after becoming a US citizen, I wrote them a letter saying essentially "take me off your list". .

My parents, who I immigrated with, had very little. We learned a lot about the USA on that basis. But compared to the average black South African, we were wealthy by a lot. we struggled to gain a foothold here in Seattle, and little by little we did so. I worked my way though college to help, and I lived at home to keep my college costs down to a manageable expense.

I met my future wife as I was finishing college. We have lived in the northwest since. Even though I hold an American passport, I still think of my roots and I am grateful that I was able to leave that horrific place.