The Political Prisoner
Last night I went for dinner with an exceedingly interesting man. Renfrew Christie was a spy for the ANC during apartheid, he spied on the regime's nuclear weapons programme. After spending the late 70s in Oxford doing his PhD he came back to South Africa. He was caught, and spent seven years in prison, including spells in solitary confinement and on death row.
Christie is now dean of research at the University of the Western Cape, out by the airport. His institution is a success story in that it has gone from being one of the country's poor universities to being one of its most successful research universities, and its student body is still largely black.
The dinner was basically me bribing Christie to take me under his wing, to invite me into his exstensive network of powerful friends and allies. Therefore I took him to a rather nice place in the Waterfront. So what if it cost me half my monthly expense budget!
He didn't disappoint. He gave me over 20 names of people I should get in touch with, enough anecdotes to write a book with and a ride home. He also gave me his own personal view of the NEPAD (New Parntnership for Africa's Development) science investment scheme (what Blair's Commission for Africa report fed into and which is being run by the Africa Union from Addis). Basically, he reckons, it's a lame duck. It's become bureaucratised, and if it benefits anybody it will only be 6 countries, not 56 as intended. But more about that in the first issue of my magazine...
This is bad news for NEPAD, but good news for me in the way that bad news is good news for journalists. Either way, it's a story and one that will unfold over the next two years no doubt.
Renfrew also invited me to the monthly sessions with the South African Royal Society, of which he is the director general. They take tea and biscuits, listen to a presentation by a prominent thinker, then round off with a glass of sherry in the Company's Gardens - the old gardens of the East India Company. All this at the very civilised time of 4.30 for 5 on a Wednesday.
He also reckons I need to meet the horsey set - they run the place apparently. No problems, as soon as my hard hat arrives from the UK...
A third inroad into Africa is the Embassies, he said. SA is the diplomatic gateway to Africa, and they've all got consuls in Cape Town. It's a nice way of getting round the endless red tape of the ministries. On the other hand, diplomats are slippery buggers...
I've finally also bit the automotive bullet and paid a holding deposit on a white CitiGolf. It's no beauty but it drives, was cheap and is only three years old. I might be able to take it home before the weekend, else, I'll take it home on Monday. Then, I'll be 100 per cent Capetonian at last. And drive to see my next door neighbour.
Christie is now dean of research at the University of the Western Cape, out by the airport. His institution is a success story in that it has gone from being one of the country's poor universities to being one of its most successful research universities, and its student body is still largely black.
The dinner was basically me bribing Christie to take me under his wing, to invite me into his exstensive network of powerful friends and allies. Therefore I took him to a rather nice place in the Waterfront. So what if it cost me half my monthly expense budget!
He didn't disappoint. He gave me over 20 names of people I should get in touch with, enough anecdotes to write a book with and a ride home. He also gave me his own personal view of the NEPAD (New Parntnership for Africa's Development) science investment scheme (what Blair's Commission for Africa report fed into and which is being run by the Africa Union from Addis). Basically, he reckons, it's a lame duck. It's become bureaucratised, and if it benefits anybody it will only be 6 countries, not 56 as intended. But more about that in the first issue of my magazine...
This is bad news for NEPAD, but good news for me in the way that bad news is good news for journalists. Either way, it's a story and one that will unfold over the next two years no doubt.
Renfrew also invited me to the monthly sessions with the South African Royal Society, of which he is the director general. They take tea and biscuits, listen to a presentation by a prominent thinker, then round off with a glass of sherry in the Company's Gardens - the old gardens of the East India Company. All this at the very civilised time of 4.30 for 5 on a Wednesday.
He also reckons I need to meet the horsey set - they run the place apparently. No problems, as soon as my hard hat arrives from the UK...
A third inroad into Africa is the Embassies, he said. SA is the diplomatic gateway to Africa, and they've all got consuls in Cape Town. It's a nice way of getting round the endless red tape of the ministries. On the other hand, diplomats are slippery buggers...
I've finally also bit the automotive bullet and paid a holding deposit on a white CitiGolf. It's no beauty but it drives, was cheap and is only three years old. I might be able to take it home before the weekend, else, I'll take it home on Monday. Then, I'll be 100 per cent Capetonian at last. And drive to see my next door neighbour.
posted by Linda at 11:55
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