Another 25 hour day of endless blue sea and sky stretched ahead, with nothing more exciting in prospect than the Captain's Cocktail Party on the quarterdeck at 6 bells, following a spot of deck tennis with that bunch of pleasant Australian girls I'd met at the Syndicated Quiz the evening before, if one felt so inclined. 6 days out of Fremantle and life on board had settled into a very pleasant routine.
Following a large buffet breakfast (one always seems to be so hungry at sea), I was lounging in a deck-chair idly perusing the ship's newspaper when I became aware of a chap glued to a transistor radio nearby. Faintly irritated at the crackling, I politely enquired as to what was apparently absorbing my sun-tanned neighbour. "Aw, don't you know, mate, the Capetown Test has just started, and the South Africans have won the toss and decided to bat."
"Oh really?" I tried to show interest.
"The ship'll be alongside in Capetown before the last day, and me and a few of the blokes from 'C' deck are thinking of grabbing a cab and nipping along to watch," my new friend continued enthusiastically but somewhat ungrammatically. Although I wasn't really bothered who won - the test appeared to be between S. Africa and Australia - the Aussie's remark had given me an idea. I would try and get to Newlands, but it would I thought be a lot more interesting to travel on public transport.
A few days later I strolled down the gangway and boarded the bus for Capetown station. It appeared that Newlands, Capetown's sports stadium, was a bit out of town and S. African Railways was the way to go. The bus journey was pretty uneventful: the ship's Purser had told me that whites could sit anywhere, but that other races had to sit in the rear half. I did less well on the train: in short I had a Gandhi experience except in reverse, and, unlike Gandhi, I didn't argue: I realised too late that compartments alternated between black and white, and I naturally got in the wrong one....After the guard put me right, the compartment I ended up in was occupied by a large white man. I was about to tell him of my mistake when he unfurled his paper. It was in Afrikaans. Somehow the words somehow stuck in my throat. I can't quite recall the reasons for my hesitation (it's a long time ago), but I had read that the Boer War lived on in the minds of some, and that some Afrikaners resented the fact that English speakers never bothered to learn their language.
I had no problems identifying the whites only entrance to the ground. I'd like to be able to confirm that it really was true that the non-whites tended to support the opposition, but when I strolled along to the partition they all went silent. I now think that they must have thought I was a policeman, as in general the 2 groups sat as far as possible from each other and I felt a bit of a fool stuck in a kind of no-man's land.
I'm afraid I also can't recall who won: but as it turned out this S. Africa/ Australia match has gone down in history as it was one of the last games S. Africa played before the sporting ban, inspired by protesters led by Peter Hain and others, put a stop to it all. So I was present when a little bit of history was made.
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