I made a booking by email, which was straightforward. We had to turn up at 9.30am for a 10am tour (all the tours are free and in principle they run every hour during the working day). Parking in that area is difficult and unfortunately the multi-storey car park we'd planned to use is entirely reserved for private use during the daytime. We found an alternative with a space right at the top, but what with that and the unexpectedly heavy traffic, it was already 9.30 by the time we started walking towards the Parliament.
We knew where it was and arrived only about five minutes late, but were told we had to use a specific entrance which was less than a hundred yards away. The problem was that to get there, we had to go right the way round the entire building as we weren't allowed to access any part of those hundred yards. It was a hot day - over 30 degrees - and it's a very substantial building, but as we were now definitely late, we had no choice but to run all the way. I hadn't realised I was so unfit. We presented ourselves, puce and perspiring, to be told that wasn't the correct entrance. Moreover the one we should use was barred (this became a theme of the whole tour). Luckily one of the guards took pity on us and let us through.
We were assuming security would be quite tight, but at no point were we asked for the form, our passports or any other form of identity. My handbag went through a scanner, but no one seemed to be watching to see if it contained anything troubling. We weren't searched at all. The guide - a pleasant large Khosa with the beguiling name of Plum - turned up about ten minutes later and asked if we were part of the party of six. We weren't, and they never did appear, but a bit later a Finn called Tuomo emerged, looking equally hot as he too had had to run. Eventually two very smartly dressed German women joined us, who were of an age not to have tried scampering, and our group of five - none of whom appeared to have been expected - set off.
Plum began by taking us outside, to admire the impressive bust of Nelson Mandela:
He also pointed out the so-called White House used by the President on the rare occasions he comes to Cape Town, e.g. for the annual State of the Nation Address, which took place last week. It's the square building in the photo below, beside the palm tree. The Address is one of the rare occasions when the three arms of state - the Legislature, based in Cape Town, the Executive in Pretoria and the Judiciary in Bloemfontein - come together in one place. It is delivered to a joint sitting of the two Houses of Parliament (the National Assembly and the National Council of Provinces):
We then moved back inside and admired the Art Deco style of the main entrance hall, feeling frustrated that for security reasons, we weren't allowed to take any photos. We couldn't really understand why not, especially as the proceedings of the Parliament are televised and open to the public, but that had been made clear in the form. The next stop should have been the main chamber, but it was locked and no one could find the keys. Plum left us to go in search of them and after a while some workmen appeared and went in, so we followed them. Peter took the opportunity to sneak a couple of photos:
The chamber is large and modern, and I was struck by how much space has been included for civil servants - the three rows of black seats at the far end, next to the Speaker's chair, with another three rows (not visible in the photo) on the other side. By contrast, the Official Box in the House of Commons has room for only about 6 civil servants, in cramped conditions. Originally the chamber, created in 1985 during the apartheid era, was used for the tri-cameral Parliament - for whites, coloureds and Indians, with no representation for the majority black population. Now it is used by the National Assembly - the equivalent of the Commons - and serves the entire country.
What you can't see is the amount of litter everywhere, left over from the Address last week and still not cleared away. The arm of one of the chairs was broken and we were wondering whether that had been done by one of Malema's supporters, needing it to wield as a club during the fracas, or by one of the heftily built MPs who fell asleep during the Address, lolling against the side of their chair.
At this point Plum found us, having thought he'd lost his entire group, and explained some of the key points about how the Parliament operates. Although most MPs choose to speak in English, they are entitled to use any of the eleven official languages of South Africa, which makes interpretation costs high. Elections are held every five years. Plum broke off suddenly and apologised to the two German women for not having said earlier how lovely they looked. A few minutes later he added, turning to me, "And even you also". Fair enough, as I was dressed for hiking rather than elegance, but a little crushing.
We moved on to a smaller room that looks almost identical to the Commons chamber - not surprisingly, as it was modelled on it when it was created in 1910 following the Act of Union. It was originally used for the National Assembly and there was some surprise when the ANC decided, in the 1990s, to use it for their own caucus and committee meetings. However, for them it underlined the fact that they were now in charge and the old regime had gone.
Plum invited us to take a seat while he spoke about its history. I chose the nearest and after a while he commented that I was sitting in the very place where Verwoerd, the President and head of apartheid, had been stabbed to death by a messenger. It was also where Nelson Mandela, Mbeki and Zuma had sat when they were in the chamber. The seat next to me, occupied by Tuomo, was where Harold Macmillan sat when he made his Winds of Change speech.
We then moved on to the slightly larger third chamber, created in the 1890s for the Cape Parliament - before South Africa became a unified country - and now used by the Provincial Parliaments when they meet in plenary as the National Council of Provinces.
As we left to walk back towards the main entrance, I thought I'd chance my luck and ask whether we could take a photograph of the fine late Victorian chandeliers. Yes, of course, why not, said Plum. I had the feeling we could have taken photos throughout the tour, despite the formal ban on doing so, but by then it was too late. Anyway, here is one of the chandeliers and also a unicorn from the House of Commons, donated in 1935:
When the tour was over, we paused to take some photos of the impressive exterior of the building. If you look closely at the second one, you can just about make out the statue of Queen Victoria in the garden, to the far right:
It was a very interesting experience and long overdue. I found it fascinating, having specialised in the Boer War at university, being able to see in physical form the key stages of the political development of modern South Africa.
We knew where it was and arrived only about five minutes late, but were told we had to use a specific entrance which was less than a hundred yards away. The problem was that to get there, we had to go right the way round the entire building as we weren't allowed to access any part of those hundred yards. It was a hot day - over 30 degrees - and it's a very substantial building, but as we were now definitely late, we had no choice but to run all the way. I hadn't realised I was so unfit. We presented ourselves, puce and perspiring, to be told that wasn't the correct entrance. Moreover the one we should use was barred (this became a theme of the whole tour). Luckily one of the guards took pity on us and let us through.
We were assuming security would be quite tight, but at no point were we asked for the form, our passports or any other form of identity. My handbag went through a scanner, but no one seemed to be watching to see if it contained anything troubling. We weren't searched at all. The guide - a pleasant large Khosa with the beguiling name of Plum - turned up about ten minutes later and asked if we were part of the party of six. We weren't, and they never did appear, but a bit later a Finn called Tuomo emerged, looking equally hot as he too had had to run. Eventually two very smartly dressed German women joined us, who were of an age not to have tried scampering, and our group of five - none of whom appeared to have been expected - set off.
Plum began by taking us outside, to admire the impressive bust of Nelson Mandela:
He also pointed out the so-called White House used by the President on the rare occasions he comes to Cape Town, e.g. for the annual State of the Nation Address, which took place last week. It's the square building in the photo below, beside the palm tree. The Address is one of the rare occasions when the three arms of state - the Legislature, based in Cape Town, the Executive in Pretoria and the Judiciary in Bloemfontein - come together in one place. It is delivered to a joint sitting of the two Houses of Parliament (the National Assembly and the National Council of Provinces):
We then moved back inside and admired the Art Deco style of the main entrance hall, feeling frustrated that for security reasons, we weren't allowed to take any photos. We couldn't really understand why not, especially as the proceedings of the Parliament are televised and open to the public, but that had been made clear in the form. The next stop should have been the main chamber, but it was locked and no one could find the keys. Plum left us to go in search of them and after a while some workmen appeared and went in, so we followed them. Peter took the opportunity to sneak a couple of photos:
What you can't see is the amount of litter everywhere, left over from the Address last week and still not cleared away. The arm of one of the chairs was broken and we were wondering whether that had been done by one of Malema's supporters, needing it to wield as a club during the fracas, or by one of the heftily built MPs who fell asleep during the Address, lolling against the side of their chair.
At this point Plum found us, having thought he'd lost his entire group, and explained some of the key points about how the Parliament operates. Although most MPs choose to speak in English, they are entitled to use any of the eleven official languages of South Africa, which makes interpretation costs high. Elections are held every five years. Plum broke off suddenly and apologised to the two German women for not having said earlier how lovely they looked. A few minutes later he added, turning to me, "And even you also". Fair enough, as I was dressed for hiking rather than elegance, but a little crushing.
We moved on to a smaller room that looks almost identical to the Commons chamber - not surprisingly, as it was modelled on it when it was created in 1910 following the Act of Union. It was originally used for the National Assembly and there was some surprise when the ANC decided, in the 1990s, to use it for their own caucus and committee meetings. However, for them it underlined the fact that they were now in charge and the old regime had gone.
Plum invited us to take a seat while he spoke about its history. I chose the nearest and after a while he commented that I was sitting in the very place where Verwoerd, the President and head of apartheid, had been stabbed to death by a messenger. It was also where Nelson Mandela, Mbeki and Zuma had sat when they were in the chamber. The seat next to me, occupied by Tuomo, was where Harold Macmillan sat when he made his Winds of Change speech.
We then moved on to the slightly larger third chamber, created in the 1890s for the Cape Parliament - before South Africa became a unified country - and now used by the Provincial Parliaments when they meet in plenary as the National Council of Provinces.
As we left to walk back towards the main entrance, I thought I'd chance my luck and ask whether we could take a photograph of the fine late Victorian chandeliers. Yes, of course, why not, said Plum. I had the feeling we could have taken photos throughout the tour, despite the formal ban on doing so, but by then it was too late. Anyway, here is one of the chandeliers and also a unicorn from the House of Commons, donated in 1935:
When the tour was over, we paused to take some photos of the impressive exterior of the building. If you look closely at the second one, you can just about make out the statue of Queen Victoria in the garden, to the far right:
It was a very interesting experience and long overdue. I found it fascinating, having specialised in the Boer War at university, being able to see in physical form the key stages of the political development of modern South Africa.
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