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On a sunny Cape Town morning in early 2008, I am enjoying my daily ten-minute stroll to work. I cross the street outside my apartment building and enter the Company’s Gardens, a sprawling park with lush foliage and a fountain, artwork and al fresco dining. It is almost picture-perfect, except for the faded, rusting, birdshit-splattered statues of Jan Smuts and other colonial masters of the past casting ugly shadows over the present.
