Constitution Hill, Johannesburg

The Constitution Hill A nation should not be judged by how it treats its highest citizens, but its lowest ones As soon as I walked in, I was moved by this sentence. I instantly felt involved. I originally planned to just take a look but ended up walking for several hours. In fact, Constitution Hill is not a top-notch attraction on the list of Johannesburg attractions. There are not many people there (mostly those who come on City Bus Tour). When I went there, the Uber driver almost drove to the wrong place. When I came out, another The Uber driver asked me curiously what was inside, because the locals didn’t know much about it. If the Apartheid Museum hadn’t been closed today, I might have missed this unexpected discovery. It was a bit deserted (and the temperature was really cold). There were no tour guides for individual visitors, so you had to read and feel it all on your own. Racial segregation and inequality were the purpose of this trip to Johannesburg, but I never thought that it would be the same in prison. From daily food to room size and work arrangements, everything was strictly controlled according to skin color. Many of the stories are basically Prison Break and Shawshank Redemption, exaggerated 10 times. I met a black woman who said she was arrested at the age of 12 because she went to Mandela's activities with her parents and had lived here for 14 months. She followed me all the way and introduced every prison room in detail, as well as the stories of some famous prisoners. Six black people were locked in a small room of less than 8 square meters. They were only allowed to take a shower once a week and were examined naked. They were not allowed to wear underwear. Only white people could sit on the chairs in the prison. In some places, black people would be punished if they went there. White people, even those who have committed extremely serious crimes, can live in a room of nearly 20 square meters with three people. For her, introducing her own story has become a job. Maybe I am just one of the people she has repeated thousands or tens of thousands of times. Maybe the memory of 12 years old has long been forgotten. There is no sadness or anger in her introduction, and it is a bit numb. Instead, it is cautious and has a hint of flattery. Even my surprise and anger please her a little, just like us who are affirmed by our bosses and clients at work. When I raised my phone to take a picture of the yard, she posed for me very skillfully. At that moment, I felt mixed emotions. When I left, I asked her, "Everything is good now, right?" She was stunned for a long time, and then said "Yes". After we broke up, I left. The heaviness I could bear in one day has almost reached the limit. I need to sort out my emotions and continue tomorrow.