Bump into *Oldjohn Hewana, down to a T like the approachable residents of Kuyasa township: generally well-meaning, beanie slanted over one eyebrow, a piecemeal gig going here or there, thanks very much. But also, – even as he tries so hard to be of good cheer – the wan glare of discontent about him.
An ingrained feature around here, that one. Anguished raconteurs who put up appearances, crack jokes as though fortifying themselves in humour to stave off the potholes of uncertainty that rage deep within.
Ever seen men who laugh with straight faces? And laugh more than the joke deserves? They get the jest’s schema, but have to deliberately feign indulgent guffaws because what’s there to laugh about when things are so tough on so many?
For Hewana, it’s the house he thought he’d have moved into over a decade ago and the construction job he is supposed to be clocking into every morning.
Neither has materialised.
And he has two kids, a steady lady and an aged mother on chronic medication whom he dotes after. When the diabetes afflicting her spikes, her legs balloon. The pain is so intense she can hardly speak, let alone make it to the sour-smelling longdrop at the back of the house. Their adobe house is an eyesore. The paint is peeling, the roof flaps, and is so old that nobody remembers when it was first built.
Hewana is one of hundreds, perhaps thousands, who’d faithfully believed in the Ou Boks Project. Conceived around 2006, the rationale was that this multi-million Rand presidential effort would be to relocate the people of the Old Location, making way for much-needed development to that area. The Location, consisting of venerable areas like Six Penny and Diep Hoek – arguably the township’s oldest nooks – bears the stigmata of under-development, poverty, neglect and inequality. Dilapidated, neglected and crumbling houses of mud stand amongst shacks and well-built suburban monstrosities. Poverty and affluence co-exist cheek by jowl as some residents drive around in gleaming German sedans just as others are lining up for a free plate of food from some NGO.
Hewana’s allocated house would’ve, in due course, afforded his sickly mother the dignity of a flushing toilet. Except it stands unoccupied, the walls dilapidated, window frames ripped out, the corrugated iron sheets stolen for someone else’s use. The area behind Bongweni Location where the home stands is reminiscent of a grim, desolate scene from a Spielberg war drama.
The houses, some 80 of them, are gutted, hollowed structures. Garbage lies strewn everywhere, some are used as drug dens or where passersby relieve themselves. Not long ago they were the bloody, smoldering scene of an incident of mob justice. In short; it’s one of those tragedies where sane men ought to be hanging their heads dishonourably asking how something like this could even happen while an entire town looks on? The MEC for COGHSTA, Bentley Vaas, has lamented the tragedy. Likewise the minister of human settlements, Mmamoloko Kubayi. But seemingly, these things take time and so Hewana’s mom must endure her woes a little longer.
Besides, few hearts seem to be in it as most people would rather speak in hushed tones or on conditions of anonymity because, well, there is, according to Hewana, what you might label a prevalent culture of “economic exclusion” on dissenters and those who haven’t yet whipped themselves into the survivalist habit of biting their tongue. The unspoken rule is simple enough: If you’re still hoping to find work, best shut up and look the other way, or else. You know, towing the line and all that.
Hewana, himself, is quite familiar with this code. As a volunteer of a political party, he claims to have been promised a construction gig. As soon as one came up, he was assured, his name would automatically be added to a list of those to be employed when the revamp of the N1 highway got underway. But there was a snag: The hordes of locals desperate for work balked at the “list.” They wanted the tried-and-tested, equitable process of drawing lots – the identity documents of all “applicants” are tossed into a box and shuffled. It’s fair. It’s democratic. Everybody enjoys an equal opportunity.
Ultimately, says another resident whose careful with his identity, there was something of a stalemate with the powers that be bent on pushing through their list and residents crying foul. As a result and fearing economic deprivation, locals tend to walk on eggshells around these matters. In some quarters, to voice disagreement at how these underhanded, opaque methods are holding residents to ransom and are no more than what Chief Justice Raymond Zondo determined on cadre deployment, “unconstitutional.” On this, eParkeni hopes to write extensively; how in an attempt to cling on to power, political parties treat the public economic space as though it were their mothers’ spaza shop. Like some tribal fiefdom where the laws of the land can be bent according to the Chiefs’ whims.
But, as is the habit of media (even hopeless rags like this one) platforms, we often get a bad rap for being purveyors of bad news. Prophets of doom who can’t even write. Though the second slur may come rather close to home, here at eParkeni, we are suckers for a feel-good story, if not for anything but to boost people’s morale. It’s rough out there and being on the ground, we find ourselves daily subjected to gut-wrenching scenes of real struggles and poverty.
That said, although August may be a windy month, there has seemingly been fewer dust storms around Kuyasa. This could be attributed to the invisible hand of climate change, but kudos must also go the recent revamp project which saw roads around Bongweni all paved up. Even under the lash of a summer cloudburst, the roads are orderly and motorists appear happy. For now, the national problem of bad roads and potholes is not something that locals generally worry about. “The paving,” says one resident, “has been a lifesaver. A few months ago I’d worry when it rained because that usually meant the entire street would be flooded.”
Awesome news! If only Hewana, or at least his ailing mother, could also enjoy the basic dignity of a flushing toilet in their lifetime.
*Not his real name.