OC HIGH: Student News & Views : Casting a Vote for South Africa’s Future

To allow South African citizens in this country to vote in their nation’s first all-race election, polling places were established at 20 locations in the United States, including one in Irvine. The election marks the end of four decades of apartheid and 300 years of white-only rule in South Africa.

For the first time, I felt like an adult--and an alien. As my dad and I stood in line at the Irvine Civic Center to vote in South Africa’s first free election Tuesday, I listened to the accents around me. They were familiar South African voices, yet they made me uncomfortable. I felt like I had no right to vote in this election. I was born in South Africa, and I am 18 years old, but I consider myself an American.

Nevertheless, those voices excited me because they reminded me of my relatives, of the times I spent in South Africa and of the fact that I was about to take part in a historic event.

My dad and I continued to stand in line. We had already been there for half an hour. The line had barely inched forward. It was 7:05 p.m., and the polls were supposed to close at 7. At 7:10 a man from the embassy told us that he was sorry, but that because the polls were closing, we would all have to squish into the voting room. He apologized and explained the situation twice, but nothing came of his little speech. The line continued to inch forward slowly.

My dad and I reached the door and read the sample ballot posted on the glass. There was a long list of names with a picture beside each and an empty box to the right for you to signify your choice. There were also maps of the various regions in South Africa. My dad explained that I would vote once nationally, and then once by region, ours being the Western Cape.

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Finally we got inside. I was asked to place my right hand under a blue light to check that I had not previously voted. Then I was asked to show identification. Because I left South Africa when I was 3 years old, I did not have my own passport, but I was named on my mother’s. The gentleman at the desk told me that I would have been required to fill out a temporary voter’s card, but they had run out. Meanwhile, the man in front of me--one of the few black South Africans at the polling place--was having a difficult time. I heard him say that he was from the Transkei. His only ID was an old, brown piece of paper. When the gentleman behind the desk asked if he had a birth certificate, he laughed and repeated that he was from the Transkei--an African tribal homeland that does not issue birth certificates or other conventional identification papers. I found it somewhat ironic that even in this free election, it was difficult for this man to vote.

I moved through the line, getting closer and closer to my voting opportunity. My right hand was sprayed with invisible ink and then placed under a blue light. This ensured that I was marked and could not vote again. I was handed a ballot and an envelope and sent to a voting booth. The booth itself was a large cardboard box with a piece of black plastic in the front for privacy. I made my selection and placed my ballot in the envelope. Then I went to another table marked with each province. I received another ballot and envelope, both of which were stamped “Western Cape.” I went to another booth and voted again.

Then I put the envelopes with my votes in the ballot box, which was monitored by a security guard. It was official. I had just voted in South Africa’s first free election. My vote will become a part of international history, and the experience will remain with me forever.