full of black people,” he would say.
“So why would you come all the
way to Africa if you hate black
people? If you hate black people so
much, why did you move into their
house?” To him it was insane.
Because racism never made
sense to my father, he never
subscribed to any of the rules of
apartheid. In the early eighties,
before I was born, he opened one of
the first integrated restaurants in
Johannesburg, a steakhouse. He
applied for a special license that
allowed businesses to serve both
black and white patrons. These
licenses existed because hotels and