GENETIC ANCESTRY TESTING REPORT: IT'S A BIT OF A HALLOWEEN "TRICK" WITH SOME "TREATS" THROWN IN!!

Today, Tuesday, October 31, is Halloween back in the good old U.S. of A. The anticipation was growing when I learned the Genetic Ancestry Testing Report from the scientists at Wits University would be shared with me on this date. The "mask" is off...I get to share my information with the world (especially those folks related to my mother, Maria Christina Sevcik, and my father, John Frank Davidek). My father passed away at a relatively young age in 1951; mother lived to be 96 years old, her spirit departing this earth on August 19, 2000.

The DNA genetic ancestry testing was done at a laboratory affiliated with Wits University. It took a long time to obtain the final results. I remember the swabbing of the inside of my mouth taking place sometime in early August. Along the way, the laboratory had some technical difficulties and results were delayed for many people (I was informed). No matter. When I learned the results would be read to me on Halloween Day, I was elated. Indeed, the final analysis proved to be perfect for Halloween: some "tricks", along with many "treats!"

Ashnee, the Indian South African sociologist/psychologist met me at the door to her office. We sat down and she proceeded to hand me a printed analysis of my DNA testing. She explained the first page of the report, reading her copy of the results. I tried to pay attention but was distracted by one word on that front page: ICELAND. I read beyond what Ashnee was reading, trying to understand why ICELAND was there as part of my DNA. It was beguiling--the name seemed to jump off the page!

The information is complicated and not easy to understand (for me, the non-scientist). My MtDNA haplogroup was listed as "W". Trust me, the "W" has nothing to do with George Bush! They analyzed the DNA on my maternal side and stated that after a worldwide search of approximately 6,000 individuals, they found no identical matches for me. The closest match differed by two base positions to an ICELANDIC individual (see http://www.bioanth.cam.ac.uk/mtDNA/). Amazing! ICELAND, with an isolated population of about 270,000 and one of them is closely matched to me!!

My oldest son (previous marriage), married a beautiful lass from...you guessed it, ICELAND! That marriage has produced two children: a girl and a boy. My grandchildren that are "half" Icelandic might just be a tiny bit more Icelandic... I say half because the individual from Iceland listed as a close match to my mtDNA has sort of thrown a wrench into the whole scenerio. I'm absolutely sure that Erik and Bryndis are going to be taken aback by this information--especially since it's based on my mom's DNA side. Oh well, it's NOT an identical match...so relax my Icelandic relatives!

Ashnee explained things and I listened intently. The websites given to me are definitely going to be viewed! Now for the "kicker." Again, on my mother's side: the lab searched their local database and found no identical matches, but came within one base position of linking me to a South Africa White individual. Imagine that! I suppose that could be categorized as a "trick" on this Halloween Day. There are some White South Africans that I would NOT want to be identified with (and I'm sure the mutuality of that statement could be verified). As a matter of fact, there is one particular person (I'll simply refer to him as "The Warden"), that would force me to suicide if I learned of any genetic link to his ancestry. Good grief...a very, very ugly, insidious thought!

Anyway, the haplogroup W is a "daughter" clade of the macro-haplogroup N. "N" and it derivatives (haplogroups H, I, J, K, M, T, U, V, W, and X) are found almost exclusively in Europe and western Eurasia (you got that?). Haplogroup W is found largely in the western Ural Mountains and the eastern Baltic, and at lower frequencies in India--the Asian part of me is finally recognized! It is believed that haplogroup W originated some time after the ancestors of contemporary Europeans became genetically isolated from the ancestors of the modern Africans and Asians. Darn! That means I'm not Zulu or even a Shona (two of my friends here belong to those respective southern African tribes).

Now for the male side of this equation--the Y chromosome analysis. Two kinds of Y chromosome data were used to resolve my Y chromosome lineage. The geneticists arrived at my Y chromosome haplogroup as: R-M207. They said R-M207 is the dominant lineage in western European populations and is thought to be a signature of an expansiion that originated from the Iberian Peninsula after the last Ice Age (about 13,000 years ago).

The lab guys determined my STR count (called short tandem repeats), which is used to further resolve the haplogroup. By screening for several of the STR markers it was possible to derive a haplotype, a combination of the patterns observed for each region on the Y chromosome tested (are you with me on this?).

They compared my Y chromosome STR profile with about 41,000 Y chromosome haplotypes from an STR database (www.ystr.org), and found 17 matches worldwide in Eastern European populations. When they searched their local (South African) database, they found no identical match. Thank goodness for that, guys! One is more than enough (thanks mother...).

Here's the "treat" part of the Halloween package (my humble opinion). They found identical matches for me in Gdansk, Poland (can you believe seven of 'em!). Hmmmmm. Adolph Hitler used to rant and rave about Danzig, which is what it was known as during the Nazi days. It had a large population of Germans. Could there be a German Jew in there? Don't know at this point. There were also two other Polish matches (other cities). Mark Davidek's wife, Wanda, is going to be pleased!

Next was an identical match in Hungary. Figures, since Bratislava is a stone's throw from the Hungarian border (my father was born near Bratislava). How about three identical matches in central Bohemia (those Slovak guys loved those Bohemian, Moravian beauties!)? There was one match in Slovenia...more Slavic possibilities. Interestingly, a match was found in Romania. Hmmmmmmm. Am I related to Vlade the Impaler? Maybe Count Dracula? Perhaps a Romanian Jew?

Lastly, the scientists found one match for me in Macedonia. Hey, I figure I am probably linked to Alexander the Great! Naw, probably some poor peasant. Again, who really knows? Finally, there was one link for me in Verona, Italy! Maybe that explains why I tend to talk with my hands...and pinch the girls on their behinds! At any rate, the Buffone folks are going to be laughing over that link.

That's it. A fairly satisfying genetic ancestry testing report. It was worth every penny (actuall it cost R1,200). That works out to, well you figure the math...one U.S. dollar equals about R7. Again, it was worth it to me. It must be said that a good portion of the cost to have the testing done was given to me by my beloved sister, Mary Ann Buffone. Thanks, sis! And please quit laughing over the Italian link!

It was worth it because I now know more about myself...and who the heck WE are. The "we" is, of course, the children of John Frank Davidek and his lovely Moravian wife, Maria Christina. All this time I seriously thought they would identify Jewish roots (because of our DAVIDek name). It doesn't seem evident (although I'm holding out for that Romanian individual). And the Polish Jewish person might be there too.

The biggest surprise was the Iceland connection. How in heck did that happen? Further digging might surface something, but for now it's just satisfying to be able to relate that news to my son's wife, Bryndis (the beauty from Iceland). Will she and her family believe it? I'm not sure. I know that I do...

ROBBEN ISLAND: MUCH, MUCH MORE THAN A MEMORY (A MOST IMPORTANT LESSON IN MAN'S INHUMANITY TO MAN)

The Robben Island experience begins at the Nelson Mandela Gateway at the Clock Tower, near the Victoria/Albert Waterfront, Cape Town. For me, and many others, it began years ago after having learned about the maximum security prison on the island and the circumstances that brought the most famous prisoner there.

I had a brief discussion with a teacher-colleague here about the torturous manner in which political prisoners were treated there. Actually, it wasn't much of a "discussion" because she politely told me that what would one expect from a prison...meaning that prisons are meant to make people suffer. I politely walked away from her with the cold realization that she would never be able to understand my point of view pertaining to prisons, human suffering, the concept of "rehabilitation", or having feelings for those who were made to live under such inhumane conditions.

Any visitor to the island is obligated to tour the prison's maximum security section. The obligation extends to "B Section". That part of the sprawling prison complex includes Nelson Mandela's tiny concrete cell. The former South African president spent 18 of his 27 years of incarceration on Robben Island--most of it lodged in that cell. The bars on the cell are as thick as any man's arms. It was meant to totally isolate many leaders from different groups in the movement for eventual democracy in South Africa.

Mandela's cell had a couple of thin blankets in a corner; a small metal bucket was standing in the opposite corner. The bucket had a matching metal lid, tarnished copper in color. There wasn't anything else in the small room. No toilet (you guessed it...the bucket served that purpose). No sink, therefore no water. No bed. Nothing to write on or sit on. It was depressingly bleak and somber to even imagine staying in that "room" for a few hours, let alone years and years.

We were delighted to learn that part of the island/prison tour included interaction with an ex-political prisoner. The fellow that explained things to our group was extremely interesting--I noted that his eyes seemed to smile as he told the sordid truth of the physical conditions of B Section, maximum security. And it wasn't even the harsh physical conditions as much as the psychological ramifications of being so isolated and having to contend with the mind games of the prison guards.

Everything was designated to prisoners according to racial category. The "Bantu" designation, meaning black African, meant that you were given less food than the "coloured" or "Asiatic" prisoner. The black prisoners were given short-sleeved shirts and short pants in the winter--and usually no socks/shoes. Imagine trying to sleep on those concrete floors with winds howling around outside, making the floors a breezeway for bodies trying to seek warmth.

The drive away from the maximum security part of the prison took us to the limestone quarry, which was particularily interesting. There, Mandela and his political coherts were made to work daily, cutting away at the limestone with crude work instruments. Limestone dust filled the air. We were told that many prisoners succumbed to the dust, which could bring, after years of exposure, TB and related lung diseases. Limestone reflects sunlight like no other material, having a tendency to damage eyesight after years of exposure. Try taking a photograph of Nelson Mandela today: you'll be told not to use any sort of flash because his eyes are very sensitive to light.

Limestone also absorbs heat to a greater degree than other mineral. We were told that the temperature in the pit working area was usually ten degrees hotter than anywhere on the island. Lose your eyesight; lungs contaminated; and then your body is fried from the heat. It's a wonder that Madiba is now at the grand old age of eighty-eight. It is nothing short of a miracle that he has made peace with the prison guards and the administrators of the hell-hole called Robben Island's maximum security prison.

What was most amazing to me was the fact that Nelson Mandela spent 18 years on that isolated former leper colony island and never looked back. No rancor, no bitterness, no anger toward the apartheid monsters who put him and his comrades there. I now better understand how this living icon was chosen for a Nobel Peace Prize (not that I ever questioned the Nobel Committee's judgement before).

In June of 1961, I had just graduated from St. Anastasia High School in Fort Pierce, Florida. I knew nothing about Nelson Mandela's fight for freedom and democracy in South Africa. Mandela had been espousing peaceful means in dealing with the hated authorities before that time. Things changed dramatically after that date. He was known to say these prophetic words:

"At the beginning of June 1961, after a long and anxious assessment of the South African situation, I and some colleagues came to the conclusion that as violence in this country was inevitable, it would be wrong and unrealistic for African leaders to continue preaching peace and non-violence at a time when the government met our peaceful demands with force. It was only when all else failed, when all channels of peaceful protest had been barred to us, that the decision was made to embark on violent forms of political struggle, and to form Umkhonto we Sizwe (Spear of the Nation)...the government had left us no other choice."

After two different trials, following being arrested by the apartheid authorities, Mandela and seven of his co-accused were sentenced to life imprisonment. He and the others were given hard labour in the harsh conditions of Robben Island. As stated before, he spent eighteen years out of his total of 27 years of imprisonment on the island.

Simply put, Nelson Mandela is a hero of mine. His sacrifices earned him his icon status, but more importantly they gave South Africa a democracy that is a shining light for the rest of the world. Yes, South Africa has rampant crime, but the value of a democratic state far outweighs the negative aspect of crime. And that's coming from someone who has been victimized twice (so far), by criminals as a Fulbright teacher here (hint, hint: guess what I'll be writing about in one of my future blog postings).