Paul Derengowski, Ph.D.
Thursday, August 2, was our last day in South Africa. The morning was spent scrambling about getting our bags packed, picking up my cap and gown, which included doing the administrative things necessary to make sure they were paid for. Lee wanted us to be out of Potchefstroom by noon because of traffic concerns. Our flight would not leave until almost 8:00 p.m., but we did not want to take any chances. Johannesburg traffic reminded me of driving in Dallas-Fort Worth, especially along 820 and 121 during rush hour. Not nice.
Before we took off, though, Lee and Annelize took us to brunch at the Spur. It was South Africa’s version of American cuisine. Maybe Lee and Annelize thought we were longing for home by now. It is more like they were such great hosts and that we accomplished much, much more and lasting than the conferral of a degree. Since it was still fairly early, we ordered from their breakfast menu (not pictured). Lee and I had the same thing, which consisted of French toast, large strips of bacon (more like ham), with bananas and syrup. I think I had a strawberry drink to wash it all down.
After we finished, we ran back to the one of the administration offices, where I spoke with someone about transferring funds from my student account to those holding my cap and gown. When that was completed, we ran and picked those items up and headed back over the the Theology building, where Lee was waiting for us. There, we transferred our luggage to his vehicle and got ready to leave, but not until we stopped in to see Dr. Stoker one last time.
Of all the persons I will miss, it will be him. He was instrumental from the start in giving me hope, when there was none. He kept the doctoral ship going in the right direction all the way to the end. What became even more important, as we shook hands and embraced for the last time, was that he became a friend. Here was an intellect that was not so stodgy that he failed to have a sense of humor. He not only knew how to deliver a friendly joke, but he knew how to take one, without become offended. He knew how to laugh and simply be a friend.
Then, it was off to Johannesburg. Lee decided that since we were about an hour behind schedule to take a back route into OR Tambo International Airport. With that, we were able to see more of the South African countryside. It is not everyday in the United States that you see ostriches just standing around in a field. That said, many of the things a person might see, in say west Texas, that person would see here. Rolling hills and rivers with livestock dotting the plains. Modern-looking towns with outlying ranches and farms.
Perhaps, one of the more disturbing things we saw came about as we approached the outskirts of Pretoria. Seemingly, miles and miles of shanties. Rugged-looking dwellings made of cardboard, plywood, or rusted-out tin for people to live in. The ultimate ghettos. South Africa has had long history of segregation and racism, and what we were seeing was a part of that history. Even today, blacks attack white farmers, murdering them on the spot to take over the property, which some of the political figures endorse. Probably the image that struck me most was seeing a clothesline with children’s clothing pinned to it, which was strung outside an obviously weather-beaten shamble of a building. My guess is that it likely did not have running water or electricity, and yet it housed at least one adult and three or four children. My thought was, ‘And so many think they have it hard in America.’
The rest of the way into the airport actually went much smoother than Lee had anticipated. Needless to say, we arrived in plenty of time to get checked in. So, Lee dropped us off and we managed to find the Delta counter relatively quickly. One thing I had noticed before we left Potchefstroom was that our Delta flight from Atlanta to Dallas was messed up again, as it had us going to DFW, rather than Dallas Love Field. It was the complete opposite of when we left Dallas for Atlanta. When we talked to the Delta agent, she told us to have Delta in Atlanta rectify the problem. Otherwise, she could do it there in Johannesburg, but it would cost an additional $300.
With bags checked in, we sat around and waited for the better part of two hours in the terminal. We grabbed a quick bite to eat just before we boarded, which was probably a mistake. Not long after we had taken off, we were being fed, again, on the plane. Only 18 1/2 hours and we were home.
