Although I have lived in Cape Town all my life, I had, until a few months ago, never ventured out to Robben Island. And I really should have because I have a family history intertwined with that of our World Heritage Site. My great grandfather, one Johann Lanz, a Swiss immigrant back in the late 1800s, got a job as the storeman on Robben Island, later becoming quartermaster. He was joined by his new bride, Anna-Barbara Minder, another Swiss émigré who had the distinction of speaking fluent French and being trained as a cordon bleu chef.

Together they made a life for themselves among the lepers and lunatics who in those days were banished to the island. They spent 30 years on the island, raising seven children, although one of their daughters, Rosina, never made it to adulthood and is buried in the Celtic (staff) Cemetery on the island.  Initially, Anna-Barbara with her sophisticated European ways was viewed with suspicion by other staff, particularly because she had a habit of offering any visitors a glass of Madeira wine and a Swiss biscuit when they called on her, whatever the time of day. However, she was the only wife who knew what to do with the rock lobsters their husbands caught. And when a load of eggs washed ashore from a shipwreck, she taught all the women to make French omelets.

Robben Island has been in the news lately, once again for all the wrong reasons. Now that the new ferry, specially commissioned at vast millions of rands, has been operating fairly well, the staff have gone on the blink. Or more accurately are on strike for more money. They also want to have time off between Christmas and New Year. A noble sentiment, the family thing and all, except that if you work in the hospitality industry you can’t really expect to take leave during the peak week of the entire year, now can you?

Partly inertia and party the managerial shenanigans on the island, not to mention the notoriously unreliable ferry had always rather put me off visiting, but when a New Zealand branch of the Lanz clan came out to Capt Town earlier this year, we all decided to make the pilgrimage to the island of our origins in Africa.

We arrived at the Nelson Mandela Gateway at the V& A Waterfront, expecting a lengthy wait but soon after arrival the Sikhululekile ferry whisked us swiftly and comfortably, with no breakdown out to the island. There’s plenty of scope for photographers en route with beautiful back views towards Table Mountain and the new soccer stadium at Green Point. Half an hour after leaving the Waterfront, we were docked in the small harbour alongside the Blouberg, the old boat that used to transfer political prisoners out to the island.

From pretty much the time European settlers came to the Cape in the mid-1600s Robben Island has been a place of banishment and isolation, first for lepers and lunatics. During World War Two it had a brief respite from society’s undesirables before becoming a maximum security prison for political detainees in the 1960s.

Our tour started off with a bus trip of the island in which a guide pointed various points of interest like the limestone quarry where prisoners worked and Robert Sobukwe’s house. The guide did kindly deviate from his usual route to take us past the Celtic Cemetery where Rosina Lanz is buried. Unfortunately there wasn’t time to get and out and look for her grave.

The bus dropped us at the grey gates of the maximum security prison and we all filed into one of the bigger, group cells, like obedient prisoners. Here, in the bleak and tiny-windowed cell we were regaled by an ex-prisoner all about prison life, food and general conditions. He was happy to answer questions and divulge his experiences which made it a very personal interaction.

Later we toured the exercise yard and the notorious B-Section where you’ll find the tiny cell of prisoner no  46664, a bucket and a few grey blankets – like that ones my dog sleep on – his only creature comforts for at around 16 of the 27 years that Nelson Mandela spent in detention.

After the formal tour there was time to stroll about the prison and ground before making our way back down to the harbour and the waiting ferry. From departure at the Waterfront back to the Waterfront takes three and a half hours and the tour cost R220 for adults and R100 for children. It’s definitely a very worthwhile experience, so if you haven’t yet been out to our troublesome island, put it on your list of things to do when next in Cape Town. Because there’s quite a bit of sitting and listening, it’s not a great outing for young and active kids. There are four tours a day, weather, staff and ferry permitting and you can find out about booking at www.robben-island.org.za. Perhaps you shouldn’t plan to go during Christmas and New Year. The staff, if there are any, may be grumpy.

Tags: Cape Town, Nelson Mandela, Robben Island, Table Mountain, V& A Waterfront