Expedition to Soweto

I don’t for a second look to suggest that the government is not doing anything about the situation I’m about to relate to you on this piece, or that the private sector (especially black empowered) is not doing anything either, and this I tell you is not limited to the extraordinaire of this country only, I believe we are all responsible for the economic outcome of this country. Now my word may also weigh a bit less if you may because I for one am from a homeland background, those who grew up in the capital of Bophuthatswana, thinking or believing rather that it was ok the way things were. I’m 26 and have a 3 year old, a helper and pay a good R2500.00 rent per month, haven’t completed my diploma yet and a secretary in government, my life is on a verge of exceeding my means… [I’m one of the government’s problems] ….. Now here it goes…

I was awarded a privilege to visit the famous Soweto and museums in a tour for the Training of Trainers class of AMDIN by my organization and on this trip I was to face what I have classified as the good, better and best as well as the bad, worse and worst truths of this country. Our first sop was at the house of the man adored by masses the world over – u guessed it – Dr Nelson Mandela. A very down to earth residential house I must say, suggesting no traces of pompousness at all. A house that had he been a good old lawyer, he would have built it himself. I was humbled. Then from there we proceeded to what would be my first meeting with the naked truth about apartheid, The Apartheid Museum. I was not there and I’m not about to pretend I understand what must have been going on in the minds of our ancestors at the time, I know that from where I come from – and I mean this age – no man in his right mind comes into ones house and somehow claims ownership of one’s property unless if you were not looking, and gets away with it. Anyway… I got so overwhelmed with emotions you know with all the lousy explanations the white man gave for treating our fathers and mothers that way back in the day. My mind then said to my heart – it all came to pass – we could not have had that violence as our destiny; even the world wars have ended… There’s nothing as painful as proving a given fact to a mind that has decided to be impulsive even as the facts are staring right at their blue eyes. Eish! I shall live to cherish that history till the day I take my last nap. Some assassinations are justified you know (sorry). Let me stop right here because I don’t have enough facts, I’ll say more after I’ve gone back there.

Then we went to have “dijo tsa Sontaga” (Sunday food) back opposite the house of the Nobel Peace Price winner – Bishop Tutu – well I couldn’t appreciate being served food I could have cooked myself but the Europeans and others seemed not to get enough and I must commend Sakhamzi for sticking to the true South African food without adding pears to mogodu or pineapple to stamp (mqushu); I loved that; stuck to basic.

AND THEN hee; we went around the corner to visit the house which Rre Mandela stayed in for 11 days after his release and 15 years with his Mrs nee Madikizela. Now this is where the real issue hit my mind, the houses on that location where built for the masses who came to dig their gold for their bosses. I’m talking about Vilakazi street, the street know around the world as the only one where two Nobel Peace Price winners lived ok; yet this street has maintained its poverty stricken condition - same old backyard toilet; at least there’s electricity; same old unemployed, less (formally)educated; and earning as little as they probably did when those houses where built - in accordance with inflation of course – Right in front of a house where one drink costs a Pound (and I mean a can) rich people who don’t know what to do with their money arrive in luxury tour busses to take photos of these people (to do who knows what with them), yet my three uncles are seated on the front yard as though a 3;5 and 7 year old waiting for their father to either come home from the mines or police to come looking for him or a man called Mandela in the evening. That was sad…

Now next door to Rre Mandela’s house is a lady in the company of here recently matriculated daughter or sister (forgive me) selling African artifacts; front opposite Mme Winnie Madikizela’s spaza(tuck) shop. A guy next to me happens to ask me if I’m working with the lady who arranged the tour and I said yes, and as I look at the stall; two Africans are walking away from the stall and then the lady said “can you get me a job at that “SANDI” please or my daughter, she’s just finished matric please, anything, just don’t forget me, take my numbers, ga go na mmereko waitse”. I felt so hopelessly helpless. I swore to myself on that moment that I was going to make a difference when I grow up (remind me please). Look all I’m saying is – I hope that all the figures who lived on that street have done something to better the lives of these people and whatever it was is exhausted because I refuse to believe that there are no census opportunities or voters registration or self help centres or trust funds to educate Mandela’s immediate neighbors (tourism management/ political science). Please remember that I’m not saying nothing is being done, all I’m saying is that it is saddening that traces of poverty still pollute even places wealthy with that much history.

Then we went a few blocks over to see Mam’Wininie’s place. Nice… We then proceeded to the Regina Monti Catholic Church within which the beautiful Black Madonna painting is displayed. I was SO glad to find a good number of young people – and I mean younger than me – practicing choir in the church – on a Saturday – didn’t know they still made those anymore. God bless them. The church concept gave me real hope. Then we had to go past a place called Pimville; now behind this place down a stipped route; stays a small group (about 50 households) in ugly tin houses ok – UGLY – they are waiting for RDP houses. Of all the heart hitting factors of this trip, I couldn’t bear to see a 6 year old looking 2 (trust me on this one) obviously because of malnutrition. Look there are RDP houses right above these tins and I guess that gives them hope. Right around the corner there are rows of “mizi ye zinsizwa” – hostels – with PEOPLE still living there oh God please sikelela. Now over the hostel there’s a place now known as Diepkloof “Expensive”. I’m not going to claim I know all the facts but half the people living here can buy the Pimville poorest and their shacks, take them to school, teach them about history, give them hope, dress them, feed them and later employ them! Please, on behalf of Trevor Manuel and President Thabo Mbeki I plead with you to please help these people – yes – out of your own pockets; Trevor Manuel will get SARS off your back. I feel that it is unnecessary to spend money on expensive information sharing sessions in other countries and consultants who won’t say anything that, given a chance, any professor in government wouldn’t have said and on phone calls we make to three providers when we’ll only use one or on allowances that people who earn most in the country get after a fat bank balance or going on shopping sprees every financial year end buying unnecessary commodities that we clearly managed well without and take at least a million of that lot straight to Pimville to “procure” houses for these poor people – children – I think we need to be given the freedom to give our departmental surplus millions straight to social responsibility for communities that the frontline staff (who’s opinion matters not because of their positions in government departments) because they see this on a daily basis because they don’t have the luxury to run away from it – yet –

Again I will say the SA government is trying but, could we stop living in high fences and start looking down the road for a second. I don’t care how hard everyone has worked, we all know that blacks (I mean Africans) or whatever may be politically right (which means black people) are destined to work and support their immediate communities… That is why a secretarial job is celebrated that much in your and my communities… That is why it would take long for us to buy luxury Jets ok. Until then; how does one enjoy a Z4 when a 6 year old looks 2 right under ones nose? SA is one of the richest countries in Africa, let’s speed up the process of poverty alleviation and that way we’ll see, Crime e tla fela.


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Kamogelo Gaesite
17.03.07