NO-ONE in our air-conditioned mini-van spoke during the half-hour journey back from the townships. We were still trying to come to terms with what we had seen. Vast swathes of shacks, built from anything to hand. Corrugated tin, old wooden planks, even discarded paint cans, cut and flattened into small sheets. Some had glass or plastic in their windows, others didn't. Some just didn't have windows. None had power, a water supply or sanitation

Earlier, our local guide, Siya, explained that several families can live in each shack. When the children grow bigger, smaller makeshift shelters are built out back for them to sleep in. Some had even settled in the bottom of a dried-up river bed after hearing rumours that the Government would re-house them in the new breeze-block homes which are slowly replacing the shanties, because of the danger of flooding.

It was gently raining in the Eastern Cape town of Port Elizabeth. Streams of water ran between the puddles of the dust tracks which criss-cross the area. And in the river bed, big pools of stagnant water formed between the shacks.

Siya pointed to the "informal settlements", which stretched as far as the eye could see, and said: "When it rains, the people inside get wet."

At first I felt uneasy being a tourist on a tour of other people's deprivation. I also felt uneasy at being white and, in the terms of the townships, very wealthy.

But this is the new South Africa, where efforts are being made to direct the beneficial effects of tourism - one of the country's biggest earners - to areas which, under apartheid, were unseen and ignored.

It is estimated that 70 per cent of Port Elizabeth's 1.4m people live in townships. Many do live in properly-constructed homes and have great pride in their communities but problems of unemployment, HIV Aids, tuberculosis and even cholera remain. A number of funeral directors have sprung up amongst the businesses of the shanties. Given the death rate, it is one way to get rich.

Those living in the townships welcome tourists, both for the financial benefits they bring and for the understanding and knowledge they depart with.

Guides with Calabash Tours, for example, which operates the Real City Tour, explain the harsh realities of the past, but also highlight the success stories of the present. The award-winning commercial venture is run by Paul Miedema, who is using tourism to support and develop disadvantaged communities in a sustainable way.

We visited just two of the projects which Calabash supports. The Ikaya Arts and Crafts Centre is housed in a modest tin shack amidst the squatter camps and provides a living for four local artists. But the most heart-rending visit was to the community-run Ubumbo Pre-School, a former clinic, which, until a few years ago, didn't even have a roof.

It is situated in Red Development, one of the worst of the shanty areas, where families still live in decaying huts left by the British Army at the turn of the last century. Here, amidst some of the worst conditions I encountered, 82 children, ranging from 18 months to six-years-old, are fed, clothed and provided with a formal pre-school education - mainly as a direct result of tourism.

The arrival of the tourists has helped refurbish the building and created seven jobs, including teachers and a cook. Just a week earlier a Swedish tourist arrived with suitcases packed full of jackets and shoes for the children, who cheerfully provide a concert of nursery rhymes for visitors. "People here are happy to see tourists because they know they are helping," says Siya.

His words were borne out by the many people in the townships who smiled and waved, some even posing for the camera.

There are other encouraging signs. New homes are being built, complete with utilities, together with impressive new schools and technical colleges. The Government believes that through education and training, it can help lift some of its most disadvantaged citizens out of poverty.

Later that night, my education continued with a tour of two shebeens, previously illegal drinking houses, in the heart of New Brighton, once a stronghold of the African National Congress during the struggle against apartheid. I was a little apprehensive - after all the roughest place I had been drinking was Mexborough, South Yorkshire - but we were greeted with great hospitality by local people, happy to chat.

One middle-aged man, keen to learn my thoughts on what I'd seen, said: "I wouldn't have been able to sit and talk to you like this, as white as you are, under apartheid times. I would have been arrested and you would have also fallen under suspicion. I am still unemployed but I am happy because I am free and I have hope for the future."

It was a similar story in the second shebeen, where I was one of just two white faces in a packed bar. We quickly made friends, talking of football - the Premiership is keenly followed in South Africa - rugby, and our impressions of the country.

My education on the political and social past of the townships had begun a few days earlier in Johannesburg with a tour of Soweto, which boasts a number of millionaires.

We were shown Winnie Mandela's house and then toured the one-bedroomed house she once shared with Nelson Mandela in Vilakazi Street. They lived there until the early 1960s, when he was arrested and subsequently imprisoned for 27 years. Their double bed is covered with a jackal skin throw, Mandela's ceremonial robe, which he wore to court in 1962. But he also spent many a night sleeping on the kitchen floor to avoid being hit by gunfire.

We also visited the Hector Pieterson Museum. He was the 13-year-old schoolboy shot dead by police in June 1976 as students demonstrated against the introduction of Afrikaans as the sole language of instruction in schools. The photograph of a fatally wounded Hector, which was flashed around the world, remains a turning point in South African history. The museum honours Hector and the 565 others who died that day.

The powerful Apartheid Museum is the city's leading tourist attraction. The tour starts with tickets indicating either "Non-white" or "White", signalling the start of a harrowing journey.

Further north, in the province of Limpopo, I also visited a traditional tribal village near the town of Hoedspruit which uses tourism to fund an important social role. It has been restored by the grandson of its former chief, who channels income from tourism to instruct the younger generation in the old ways.

"As people move to the cities, they forget our traditional way of life. We want to teach them the old skills and the values by which we lived our lives," he said.

These experiences were a world away from the exclusive game lodges I also stayed at during the trip, seeing some of the continent's most dangerous wildlife close-up. With such high profile guests as U2's Bono, film star John Cusack, Tiger Woods, Maggie Thatcher and Linda Barker, these are places where luxury comes as standard. In contrast, visits to the townships are far from luxurious. This is not entertainment, it's reality.

Such tours are, at times, enjoyable, at times disturbing, but they're essential for anyone wishing to gain a new perspective on the 'rainbow nation'. They break down barriers, shatter stereotypes and - as my long silence underlined - leave a deep and lasting impression.

* Next week. On the trail of the "Big Five".