The kasi economy, nowadays a glib selling point in government dispatch, has been bleeping on eParkeni’s radar for a while. Two years in fact, when the octogenarian farmer Maeder Osler e-mailed a small-fry wannabe writer in the throes of a mild depression and too many bad habits to shake off.
‘If you still want to write,’ wrote the old man, ‘I beg you, do so.’
It wasn’t much to go on. But when you’re hemmed in in a town where employment is scarce and your peers watch the years roll by at the watering hole, or playing ludo when – in a just world – they ought to be clocking in for a shift, it’s like being smuggled a cigarette in a holding cell. It keeps the head above water, affords respite from the frustration, self-pity and the tendency of taking it out on others. You buy the Sunday paper, renew the library membership, keep abreast of what’s happening and – residing in the kasi – wonder what this economy might eventually look like as it unfolds out on your doorstep.
At face value, the term suggests a niche industry. An economic ecosystem meticulously tailored around the former labour barracks of segregated South Africa. But from the inside looking in, one wonders whether there is formal planning in place to facilitate how we envision the industry to flourish? The infrastructure – if there are still potholes on the few tarred roads and sewerage seeping out in the streets is a common township ailment – for the most part is still wanting if we hope to put up anything remotely resembling a credible economic epicentre. If the narrative is anything to go by, it foresees an organic entity mostly left to its own designs; it will navigate itself in its unplanned sort of way determined by its ordained custodians – the residents of these spaces who pool their resources and have a go at it. As previously noted, historically, the backbone of this was the taxi, shebeen, spaza shop, stokvel, burial society and the loan shark. Indeed, with limited economic avenues, these were the pioneering self-made entrepreneurial hustlers of the kasi in earlier years.
That said, the workings of the township have undergone immense reconstruction since, which have drastically altered the sector in both promising and adverse ways. The spaza trade has almost entirely slipped into foreign hands and despite the authoritative GG Alcock’s views to the contrary, the paving on the ground indicates that the liquor industry is fast headed to a similar fate. Even the hair/barber business has been prominently taken over by outside people. Were it not for its mafia-type make up, often synonymous with violence and iinkabi – hired hitmen – the taxi industry might long be facing similar challenges.
So what does this hold for would-be local entrepreneurs particularly those from small towns like Colesberg? The reversal – or redress – of spatial inequalities that are a by-product of historical injustices, forms the modus operandi around this type of economy. The goal is to reconfigure the township into an accessible economic hub, creating a conducive environment for businesses to stand a fighting chance. Although the term is often used interchangeably with the ‘informal economy,’ this is incorrect, as the latter refers to unregulated economic activity in general and the kasi derivative fashions itself as a formalised entity with its base firmly in the townships. However, in practical terms, the township economy is merely black businesses mostly operating in ‘town.’
Social media romanticises this sector with kota and atchaar merchants, backyard farmers, restauranteers and shisanyamas that animate the slew of groups dedicated to this outcrop. Imileqwa or ‘hardbody chickens,’ grain-fed and highly prized chickens in the township are an instant hit. The name umleqwa is derived from isiXhosa and is loosely translated to ‘chase down’ denoting how one must chase after these chickens if they hope to put them to slaughter. In Colesberg, these are a popular means to subsist on as well as to earn a small surplus.
However the question persists: Is the township almost exclusively dependant on these types of archetypal kasi businesses? What about education centres, media outlets, non-profits dealing with those issues directly affecting these spaces and educational / skills development programmes for youths operating from the township? According to at least one expert; ‘the township will not mirror the established mainstream economy due to infrastructural, spatial and network separation. It will need to develop on its own specific and particular terms.’ How would those terms look in real life and is government earnestly involved in assisting this sector in getting off the ground?
Estimated to be an annual R200 billion industry, a 2014 study by the World Bank Group found ‘that the townships have a low rate of entrepreneurial activities in South Africa compared with other countries in Latin America, Asia and the rest of Africa.’ The group also found that ‘only 25% of money generated in the townships is spent there.’ With 60% of the nation’s unemployed found in the townships, the country’s ‘staggeringly high unemployment rate will likely be won (or lost) in these places.’
All over SA, Colesberg being no exception, are a significant number of unemployed graduates, particularly from TVET colleges, many of whom wind up in unskilled, low-paying jobs or unemployed. There exists an inherent need to ensure these individuals are afforded an opportunity to utilise these acquired skills; the ones they went to school for. However, the majority of local entrepreneurs remain confined primarily to the fast food sector. And, almost all of them operate from ‘town,’ ostensibly because the townships haven’t reached the status of a vibrant economic hub.
Surely not everyone aspires to clip hair or peddle grub. People like Mbulelo Kafi have gone into the less explored business of selling services. As a qualified tour guide, his choice of vukuzenzele – ‘do it for yourself’ (one of government’s favourite throwarounds) – has seen him grinding it out in the tourism sector. Not exactly the sort of trade with a reliable income but Kafi has persisted and, in the lead up to World Tourism Day (27 September) Kafi received the Northern Cape Tourism Services Excellence Award for best tourism experience, smiling right next to the Minister of Tourism, Patricia de Lille.
With the unmitigated jobs bloodbath affecting the country, the township economy must, out of necessity, shed its one-dimensional disposition. The Northern Cape, so often overlooked in as far as being an economic powerhouse has become a frequent reference in government communique especially in the field of renewable energy and astro tourism. With Heritage Day a celebrated date on the local African calendar, there are groups who hope to document the scarcely known histories of Kuyasa and Lowryville townships. The project hopes to create legacy initiatives that will benefit the locals. Despite the tough times, there are small miracles cropping up all around. A mechanic here, a shoe repairs there and in between, a small team of people who bring it to your fingertips.