Javas Zvandazira's bruised face fronts Cape Town's Civic CentreOne of South Africa's most famous beauty spots is now a scene of disgrace. Just out of sight of the tour buses that flock to the Cape of Good Hope, more than 2,000 foreigners are crammed into a makeshift refugee camp on the shores of the Atlantic, seeking protection from xenophobic attacks that have killed more than 50 people across the country and devastated South Africa's image as a haven of stability.Associated Press |
Thousands seeking refuge near Cape of Good HopeBy all accounts that matter, i.e. the broadcast media,
government, and the
U.N., South African public and civil agencies have done
a fantastic job providing
humanitarian aid to
35,000 foreign refugees displaced by the
horrific May township pogroms.
Western Cape premier Ebrahim Rasool can be heard on 567CapeTalk
extolling our virtues and our
African commonality. Mayor Hellen Zille, having
worked local government to a lather instituting
temporary relief measures, seems happy to
relinquish responsibility for Western Cape refugees. And the freesheets popped into our suburban psyches each Thursday have been brimming with pictures of smiling schoolkids hovering over piles of clothes and food donated by our leafy selves to assist 'the poor' in their hour of need.
Javas Zvandazira, Degen Machikunda, and Hammilton Makliyere know it's going to take longer than an hour to sort out the mess they're in. Recent arrivals from Zimbabwe, they're still used to roughing it on the road and, being young, indulge few fancies. They're three of the hundreds of
refugees turfed out of the Customs House site alongside the Arabella Sheraton on 4 June to
fend for themselves under the Coen Steytler / Eastern Boulevard flyover leading into the central city.
"You must go!"Separated from the burnt and broken buildings of the Culemborg Goods' Yards by a long stretch of usually deserted road, the main 'pick up point' is situated on a large tract of open land dotted with palm trees usually used as digs by local indigents.
No shelter, no toilets, no showers, no food, no nothing...
"We're putting in water points," a city employee told me as his team cleaned the vast swathe of wet grass and mud now occupied by hundreds of refugees hounded from the townships.
"He's lying," commented Degen under his breath. "We've heard nothing but lies and promises."
Having witnessed the arrival of the refugees during the week (when you find somebody sleeping in your usual parking bay, you're bound to notice them) and having read
Michael 'Traps' Trapido's moving account of
the relocation of refugees to a
camp in Corlett Gardens, Johannesburg (at which entry you will also find salient, intelligent comments), I felt I should meet my new neighbours and acquaint myself with conditions on the ground.
It's mid winter. The ground is cold and wet, and an icy northwester accompanied by discomfiting squalls of rain ensured it stayed that way. Nevertheless, the area not sheltered by the overpass is fast becoming a cardboard city and is now home to Javas, Degen, and Hammilton (fenced in, the covered area is reserved for heavy machinery).
On my arrival earlier today, several open council trucks were loading refugees for transit to Blue Waters, a camp on the Strandfontein coast. Few of those remaining at Culemborg wished to go.
"We have to stay here," commented Javas, still sporting
a stitched cheek and entrepreneurial zeal. "We need to get work. There's nothing to do at those camps."
So-called safe sites such as those at Blue Waters,
Soetwater on the Atlantic coast (near Cape Point), and at the Youngsfield military base are, by all accounts, hell holes awaiting outbreaks of disease. So, having been dropped off by a minibus taxi at this Godforsaken spot in the middle of the city was better than being trucked to three meals a day and visits by state health officials in the middle of nowhere?
Hammilton Makliyere and Said Omar SalahiIt seems so. Though new to the area, and with Javas appointing himself spokesperson and guide in chief, the Zimbabwean trio warming themselves on the edge of the freeway took me down to Said Omar Salahi's shop under the freeway. The young refugee from Zanzibar had set up shop, a shuttered, two-wheel wagon, immediately on arriving at the edge of the decrepit Culemborg Goods' Yards.
I'd wandered over to Said's earlier in the week and, given the superabundance of Bar Ones stocking his shelves, had immediately noticed that paperless refugee status imposes certain constraints on choice.
But Said, a gentle Rasta with sad, smiling eyes, sold just about everything else you might find at your nearest Athlone wholesaler. Besides, his shop serves as more than a source of provisions. With other shopkeepers operating mobile dispensers mounted on everything from customized racks to supermarket trolleys, Said's shop is a centre of information and conversation.
There are few, if any, women and children down at the Goods' Yards camp. They were either huddled in their plastic-covered cardboard boxes or, like most, have put their children’s health first and taken the trucks to the 'safe sites'.
Strolling through the developing camp with Javas, Degen, and Hammilton, I chanced on Jose da Silva, an Angolan only because that is where his travels started. He is the quintessential African Rastafarian, a man who draws people to his feet. Literally. I found him surrounded by an audience and asked him if he minded me taking a couple of shots. Photographs, that is.
Whereas most refugees, seriously mistrustful of South Africans and extremely camera shy, cover their faces or turn away, Jose gave me the benefit of his fully-focused, fearsome glare.
"What for? What do you want to do with these pictures? Like all the rest, do you think we are to be moved around like animals in a zoo?"
My kinda guy. We spent some time chatting, covering the situation as it now stands and the likelihood of any meaningful resolution. Like me, Jose doesn't see much chance of a peaceful resolution and, while speaking only for himself, he articulates the view of most.
Degen Machikunda, Javas Zvandazira, and Hammilton MakliyereCape Town's refugees have been, and continue to be,
treated like shit. Official responsibility for their wellbeing having shifted to the province, they now find themselves living on the fickle whim of charity in the
shadow of the Civic Centre, from where Africa's wealthiest city is run.
Hammilton reminded of the
pictures of southern suburban children in our weekly freesheets.
"We were at
St. Paul's Church in Rondebosch for a week but they told us they had no more food or money and we had to go." He looked glum. It must have been a time of promise. But it was short-lived. "They gave us all these clothes," he added brightly, sweeping his hand over his winter garb.
Two weeks ago, I blogged. "And so it goes... and so it will continue to go... for a while. Then there'll be a lull. People will assist our diminished population of foreigners until they tire of them or the next round of attacks start." It's something to which I've grown accustomed. The rich cannot stand very much poverty.
Around a month ago, I blogged the old radar station built by the South African Engineer Corps (SAEC) down at Cape Point. Sixty years ago, twenty thousand homeless people would have presented no problem. Today, mindful that the army has been mobilised and looking at the long ruin of the building running alongside the nascent refugee camp, I wondered what the hell had become of the SAEC.
In any functional country, the military would be able to slap up shelter, showers, toilet and cooking facilities in a couple of days.
But that was another time and, it seems, another country. Poor, it had compassion. Today, wealth abounds and it seems
compassion left for the coast on an open-topped truck.
Doing what they can with what they have — which, in both cases, is not very much —
government and the
occasional NGO seem to be doing their damndest to help out while not endangering their positions on the precarious hierarchy of
neoliberal order (notable exceptions include the
indefatigable TAC and
several others).
But really, we're at the start of a long, tough journey and we've been found wanting already. It's not that we can't do it — it's that we're afraid to. Through a
revamp of the economic system and state-subsidised and regulated factories countrywide, we could roll out
sustainable housing for all within our borders in ten years.
Absent such radical socio-economic change, the poor will continue to get poorer and the rich, richer — at an ever-quickening pace. Globally, the war between the two has been raging for years. We've ignored it. And I'm afraid we're going to have to
pay the price.
Not that I mind all that much. Taking my leave of Javas, Degen, Hammilton, Jose, Said and the many other
brave faces of Cape Town this afternoon, I knew I'd be back. If you've ever found the warm, educated and civil heart of Africa in the townships, you'll have no trouble finding it in a refugee camp.
It's like coming home after a hard day's work.
“I left Mogadishu in 2005 to open a shop in Orange Farm. In Johannesburg. They shoot my partner. They kill him. Then I come to Khayelitsha. They chase me here. South African government does nothing. F*** government. F*** South Africa. Government say sorry? F*** sorry. Only two things. We go home. Or we go other country. America. Or Australia. South Africa? F*** it. Now is finished here. We’re not stay here. F*** South African people. Xhosa people, they see us work, they see us and do nothing. They’re lazy and like to drink and sleep with women. F*** Xhosa. They steal from us, they kill us.”Andrew Donaldson |
The EndAndrew Donaldson is not 'his usual self' over at
The Times. Read
The End and weep. Alternatively,
pitch in.
Later...
Proprieter: Said Omar SalahiAt 2:00 pm this afternoon,
567CapeTalk's Eyewitness News reported refugees at the
Soetwater 'safe site' threatening mass suicide by walking into the sea if forced to '
reintegrate' into the townships from which they have fled.
Cape Town authorities say foreign nationals at the Soetwater relief camp near Kommetjie are threatening to commit mass suicide. The National Sea Rescue Institute claims people are threatening to go into the sea and drown themselves as attacks on forgeiners are still happening.
The displaced immigrants are adamant they will not be reintegrated into communities where hatred is rife. The foreigners apparently threatened the lives of volunteer’s and local officials at the site. All personnel were evacuated from the site.
As intonated in this and earlier posts, we've reached the end of the beginning rather than the beginning of the end of this increasingly desperate situation.
"...down where the vultures feed..."Johan Horak of the
eMzantsi Ubuntu Coalition, whose Sam Pierce gives us
Observing xenophobia in the
Independent, blogs:
A tragedy is unfolding as people who fled xenophobic terror now face the uncaring machinery of the state. Most camps and shelters in which displaced people are staying fall below international humanitarian standards.
We have received unconfirmed reports of people going on hunger strike as well as four attempted suicides at Soetwater Refugee Camp today. There is enormous dissatisfaction at the camp. The conditions are awful: it is cold and insufficiently sheltered. It is not on a public transport route to Cape Town, so displaced people are essentially stuck in the camps without adequate information about the outside world, unable to work or attend school. There are not enough toilets, so the sanitary state of the camp is horrendous. Refugees are receiving two meals a day, but the organisation of food distribution and the quality of the food is unacceptable, with many of the camp’s approximately 3000-4000 people only eating cold food. The camp was one of several set up by Mayor Helen Zille to relocate people displaced by xenophobic violence two weeks ago. Both the province and civil society have condemned these camps.
On 4 June 2008, we sent a letter of demand to President Mbeki, Premier Rasool and Mayor Zille asking for a plan to deal with the conditions at Soetwater, to bring the UN in to advise and assist on all aspects of this crisis and to open up alternate shelters like community halls. We received a positive response from the premier, no response from the President and a deeply regrettable response abdicating all responsibility from the mayor.
The Coalition, a grouping of NGOs and volunteer organisations speaking for the Soetwater communities, has three demands:
Soetwater Camp and other refugee camps must be closed. The people of Soetwater must be relocated to secured facilities in the city centre and suburbs, on transport routes, close to Cape Town’s Central Business District and where there is much greater chance of reintegration.
The President must give the United Nations a mandate to assist displaced people who wish to repatriate to their own country or a third one.
The UN at its most senior level must immediately take responsibility for properly communicating with all displaced people about the options available to them.
From what I've read, seen, and know of the situation, these demands are considered, rational, and feasible.
THEY DEMAND SUPPORT. The first is patently obvious and coincides with the views expressed in my immediate and independent contribution to this entry. The second and third flow from it. Government is failing us on every level (immigrants, refugees, and citizens) and cannot cope with this fast-escalating nightmare. So do the sensible thing and, yes, for God and Allah's sake, ask for help.
Call in the army you've mobilised. Build shelters across the city. Give Africa back to Africans, allow all to pitch in and help, and free Cape Town's vast and untapped resources. Now. Before, as with the ludicrously dangerous notion of "re-integration" into the townships, it's way too late.
A Foreigner In My Own LandIf being a South African means beating on the door of a shack and demanding to see a green identity book — the dompas of citizenship — then I am a foreigner.
If being a South African means dragging a woman into the road to push up her skirt and drive my boot between her legs, then I am a foreigner.
If being a South African means sharpening my machete to split the skull of a man returning home from work, then I am a foreigner.
If being a South African means ripping an infant from its mother’s back to spit in a little face wizened by terror, then I am a foreigner.
If being a South African means dropping concrete blocks on that mother’s head until it bursts like a ripe watermelon on the dry dust of my street, then I am a foreigner.
If being a South African means arrogating the roles of policeman, prosecutor, judge and executioner, then I am a foreigner. If being a South African means hanging over my fence and watching the smooth skin of a man blister as he burns alive, then I am a foreigner.
For that skin is an infant’s, once caressed by a mother’s hand. That skin is a man’s, and a lover’s hand passed over it, marveling at its smoothness. That skin is a father’s, reached for in the night by a child afraid of the dark. That burning skin was a man’s — and if being a South African means I can’t feel that skin as my own, then I am a foreigner.Margie OrfordYou will appreciate in the circumstances the City has no legal competency to address any of your concerns and it is suggested that you direct your request to the Premier of the Western Cape Province.The all-too-South African response to
eMzantsi Ubuntu Coalition's request for assistance from
Mayor Helen "This City Works For You" Zille.
Metro Cops Attack City Refugee Camp
Cape Town Metro Police's hands-on style...Monday Early this morning, Cape Town's goon squad, the Metro Police, allegedly descended on Culemborg's little corner of Africa and set about tearing down refugees' cardboard shelters.
I've no need to flatter these callous bastards with any niceties — an article in the Independent on a fine posted to
Dierdre O'Neill after being
battered beyond recognition by an
Inspector Lourens Bester (yet to face any disciplinary action) speaks for their lack of social graces.
As for
their killing of their own...
If planned, their mission was to force out as many of those camping at the 'pickup point' as possible — for relocation to a hellhole on the coast. If unplanned, their brutal assault showed them behaving true to form. A few hours later, the city set up a row of toilets alongside the condemned Goods Yards' building.
Yep, they're black, they're African, they're possibly "illegal", and you probably want them
on a truck to
Zimbabwe.
This afternoon, for all the refugees' tough looks and business-as-usual attitude, their trauma was evident. Faced on the one side by
Zille's thugs and on the other by
Rasool's apartheid-era reintegration plan, they're caught in the middle of the worst type of official indifference.
South Africans (see comments)? Given half a chance, they behave like
Nazis.