Monday 25 February 2013

Molo Cape Town!

(08 February 2013)


(Song choice for this blog entry:  "Black Swan" - Thom Yorke


Sometimes in life, an important part of the journey lies in its reflection.


Having delayed my journey by two days, I finally found myself at The Backpack  with a swollen up foot which I had badly bandaged, after fighting off a minor foot infection from the previous weekend’s shenanigans. 

The day had been a long and hot one, after spending it walking through SA’s oldest township known as Langa, with Imivuyo tours. The sun had been as fierce as the wind. I was hungry and exhausted.

I was more than relieved to settle down to a comfortable room and just be for a while. I was booked to leave on the Baz Bus early the following morning which was to take me to Lungile Backpackers  in Port Elizabeth, where I would spend the night in transition before making my next stop at the Buccaneers Lodge and Backpackers in Chintsa.

So there I sat, wrapping my mind around what I had just seen in the township, at the foot of Table of Mountain in this award-winning 5 star establishment which boasted killer views in the peachy Cape Town sunset.

I set up my computer and camera gear outside in the covered communal area, where I was greeted by curious tourists asking to see my pictures from the day’s excursion. A special cosy gathering space, a number of other guests joined me on my venture of surfing the free internet access; others sat in clusters enjoying beers in the last of the day’s heat; and some were in search of allies to accompany them on their night-time excursion to Long Street (one of the CPT’s party hostpots) a mere 5 minute walk from The Backpack.

Next thing I knew it was 22h00. I had gotten so carried away by the people that I had forgotten to feed the monster in my belly. Although The Backpack does not cater dinner for its guests, it is easy enough to nip-off to some of Cape Town’s groovy local restaurants for a late bite to eat. I would recommend Rafiki’s at the top of Kloof Street where I found myself that night, on the balcony overlooking the busy street. People (local and foreign) rejoiced around me in Friday festivity. My beer and pizza arrived, and as the waiter dropped it in front of me flashing a brilliant white smile and my belly belched in anticipation, I struggled to get started.

Today I had seen people of different ages, races, cultures and socio-economic backgrounds. I watched these people live and learn how to deal with the harsh realities that they are faced with each and every day.

I made my way home with a full tummy - a 2 minute illuminated walk before entering the security of The Backpack. I climbed my way into the cosy bed with the soft pillows and shut my eyes listening to the guests who were still awake, splashing around in the swimming pool outside my window. 

As I listened to the laughter, my thoughts drifted. 
How could I even begin to complain about my middle to upper class lifestyle?
Somewhere, maybe 20 minutes away from me, there is a child who has gone to sleep without food in its tummy. Somewhere out there was a person who was sleeping out on the street without the comfort of the cosy bed with the soft pillows, without the safety and security of a home to sleep in. And what could I do about it - just one small person in such a big world of problems? Where do I even begin?

I felt a slight sense of ease wash over me when I remembered that backpacks and lodges such as The Backpack which are Fair Trade accredited, use a portion of the money which you spend at their establishments to create positive impacts which benefit the communities (the local people and the environment) which surround them. These transactions are all transparent. If you find yourself questioning where the money is going to, you are free to ask.


I slept comfortably. It was the first night my infected foot had not throbbed. I will be back at The Backpack  on my return to Cape Town where I will be able to review the establishment with more time. 

If this was only the first day of my month long trip, I wonder what the rest of my journey has installed for me. From here on out, everything is about the experience.

Ali.






Sunday 10 February 2013

Langa: a little town of its own

A journey around South Africa is not complete without an eye-opening introduction to the harsh realities that face many of its people on a day-to-day basis.


On Friday I met a very special man by the name of Chippa Mngangwa.
A beacon of light from the heart of South Africa's oldest African townships Langa, Chippa founded Imivuyo Touring. Imivuyo (meaning happiness in Xhosa), is a tour guide agency which specialises in introducing  international visitors (as well as locals!!!) to the township's culture and social issues.  

Together, we explored SA history through the District Six Museum, which helped mould our contextual understanding of this nation's current dynamic culture, inevitably shaped by its Apartheid past and the scars it left on the hearts and souls of the people who lived it. 
With the newly gained recognition of the past and the ties which it still holds to the future, we delved into the centre of Langa township by foot. 

With my (very) expensive camera in hand and my hiking boots laced tight, we explored the hopes and dreams of the township and its inhabitants. We visited its community centre; socialised with the varying socio-economic classes within the township; drank the local beer mqombothi; watched in awe as the local women prepared their cultural delicacy of sheep's head; and then ended off a stimulating day at Happy Feet - a non-profit youth project which unites, teaches and uplifts township youth through the traditional gumboot dance of the migrant workers.

Below are the photographs which I had managed to collect during the 3.5 hours I spent on the tour.

In some cases, such as this one, I believe that photographs are able to communicate better than words ever could. I have personally hand-chosen these photographs as I feel they best relive the livelihood which I was lucky enough to have experienced.

Please take note while you view these photographs, that a Friday afternoon in the township is an afternoon of festivity. It marks the end to what was undoubtedly a very long week. Children return home early from school and loud spriteful music carries through the streets, where men gather to drink their mqombothi and women group together to talk about their day on 'full-volume'.


My only wish was to have been able to spend more time with this colourful culture, which ashamedly as a SA resident, took me 14 years to recognise.


Below is a link to a song on YouTube which I recommend you listen to as you scroll through the following photographs. It is called A Penny At a Time (<--- click here!) and is one of the soundtracks to the film Life in a Day. I hope you are as moved by these photos as I was of the physical experience.


Old Cape Town mapped out on the inside floor boards of the District Six Museum. If one looks closely, you will see signed names scribbled on the various street corners of the map. These names mark the recognition of the people who lived there during the struggle.

Sitting on what was once a Europeans Only bench in the District Six Museum is Chippa Mngangwa, founder of Imivuyo Touring and my tour guide for the day. 


In the middle of the District Six Museum a structure stands tall made up of original District Six street signs which were collected by one of the (de)construction workers during its demolition (starting in 1967). 


There is a room in the museum which is predominantly dedicated its the floor. What makes this floor special are the stories of people's memories of the days of District Six which are 'tiled' into it. This specific story (as well as the photographs of the three after this one) really did shake me to my core. It is called My Pigeons Came Home, here it is transcribed:

My family and I moved to Athlone in 1975 together with my prize racing pigeons.
I built a loft using the same wood I had used in District Six.
After caging them for 3 months I released them to see if they would return.
When I returned home that evening I went directly to the loft.
Not a single pigeon had come back.
After a sleepless night I returned to work driving through the demolished landscape that once was District Six.
As I drove past the now empty plot that used to be my home in Caledon Street I saw a sight that shook me to the core.
My pigeons, all 50 of them were on the empty plot.
They did not fly away when I approached them, but looked into my eyes as if to say
"WHERE IS OUR HOME"
-NOOR 2000/03/28



Wise words inscribed into the tiled floor in the District Six Museum, Cape Town, South Africa.


A dedication to the victims of the struggle of the forced removals inscribed on the tiled floor in the District Six Museum.

-The Victims-
To us you will be more than just a memory.
A living example to follow since we have lost your bodies but gained your spirit.


-Willie Adams, June 1976


A poem going through the emotional motions of the apartheid struggle. Another memory inscribed on the tiled floor in the District Six Museum.

SALT AND TIMEWound.Time.A hole black with hammersBetween gravity and suspensionBetween silence and listeningBetween wall and windowBetween absence and isolationBetween somewhere and nowhereBetween dust and desolationBetween glass and mirrorBroken shadows breaking.Salt and time


-Randolph Hartzenberg, November 1999.


"Apartheid drinks". The Museum is ornamented by aged 'physical histories'.


An old circumcision tool in one of the display boxed at the District Six Museum.


Street art down the road from the District Six Museum, true reflection of the colourful culture that South Africa has to offer. Cape Town.


This photograph was taken at the Langa Township Community Centre . This is one of the woman who spends her entire day making ceramic crockery. From the early stages of clay and moulds, workers at the community centre see the project through to the fine paint details which are sold at the community centre souvenir store.



One of the painted ceramic plates (before being fired in the kiln). Naledi Pottery, Langa - SA 2013.

Exquisitely decorated handmade ceramic mugs in the Langa Community Centre souvenir store, R180 each. 


A lot of time is put in to decorating these ceramic plates. Langa, Cape Town, South Africa.


One of the women involved in the handmade ceramic project in the Langa Community Centre. I could not resist loading this picture up, what a riveting smile this woman has. 


The Langa Community Centre has some incredible beadwork too. 


Sometimes all you need is love. Langa Township, Cape Town, South Africa.



This woman turns her music down which is blasting through her small television speakers as I walk in with my tour guide Chippa. She only has smiles to lend on our intrusion. She lives in half of a tin container (commonly used on construction sites) which has been split in to two 'houses' for two different families. The room is ornamented by a double bed; a heap of bags used as storage for clothing and linen; a plastic tub which hangs from the ceiling; a parafine lamp; a small side table with an old television on top; and a stove plate at the entrance to her home. She shares her bed with her four children.


Many families make their homes from shared tin (construction site) containers as shown in the previous photograph. These containers are generally found in clusters of 5-10 within the township (10-20 families; 50-100 people per/cluster), and share a toilet of this nature. 


Here, a woman spends her day brewing the local beer 'mqombothi' , which is made out of maize/corn in a shack in Langa Township. The locals believe that this home-brew helps loosen the tongue, and aids them with the clicking pronunciation of their language, isiXhosa.

This is how the home-brew is presented to you, in a stainless steel bucket. You pay R20 for a bucket this size. The traditional way of drinking the 'mqombothi' is communally. You sit in a circle, and take turns sipping on the bucket of beer. It is said that medical experts have done studies on this traditional beverage, and have come to the conclusion and recommendation that this is a preferable alternative beer (of approx. 2.5% alcohol count) for those suffering from diabetes. The taste is not bad at all. Although it is very foamy, it is light in flavour. You are meant to blow away the foam before sipping, as to avoid what is similar to a 'cappuccino moustache'. I might not order it above the standard beer, but I will not turn my nose up on it if ever I am offered it in the future.

After passing the bucket of beer between a circle of five, the beer finally ends up in the hands of this man. Never in my life have I seen a man take a longer sip of any liquid. Look closely at the way he holds the bucket up to his face. One hand cradling the bottom, while the other hand supports the lip at the top of the bucket - combined with a face of pure concentration. 



Here a local woman sits on the side of the road in the sun preparing a local delicacy known as a 'smiley',  (a sheep's head). The cheek of a sheep is tender meat. The eyes and the brain are removed and put into something similar to a stew. Folklore says, that if you eat the eyes, you will have good eye sight, and if you eat the ears, you will be of better hearing. The sheep's head is one of the cheaper parts of the animal that you can buy from the local butchery. The sheep's heads are bought from the butchery, and then left out in the sun to dry for the morning until early afternoon before preparing it on the fire. You can buy a full sheep's head for a measly R40.

After being left out in the sun for approximately 6-8 hours,  the women use a hot steel rod (heated on the fire) to literally burn the hair off of the sheep's face. They brush the hot steel rod over the animals flesh, which contracts from the high temperature. (Langa Township, Cape Town).

I apologise to sensitive viewers. The sheep heads on the left are the finished product known as a 'smiley'. Here you can see how the skin has been burnt taught over the structure of the animal's face, giving it its smiling impression. On the right is a sheep's head which is yet to be prepared, not smiling, and hairy.

With next to nothings-worth of material wealth, a toddler plays with an old trolley in between the township's shacks (make-shift houses made of old pieces of tin, plastic, cardboard and wood). Langa Township, Cape Town.

After seeing me and my camera aimed his way, the same toddler from the above photograph turns around and starts stomping and dancing his way through the shacks, where a group of women are engaging in very loud conversation.

Fridays in Langa are full of festivity as people head home early. These two girls, in their school uniform, giggled as I walked past. I assume they had just made it home by either catching a long ride via mini-bus taxi, bus or train.

Mimicking the socio-economic divide of the country, Langa has a very prominent socio-economic difference within the township itself. Rated second from the bottom on the hierarchy list (above tin shacks) are the old hostels which were built for migrant workers who worked the mines, when the township was initially instated in 1923. Inevitably, as the years passed by, each season has bought with it its challenges. Ageing infrastructure is rife within the township, especially evident in the state of the old hostels. Despite this, you will find approximately three families living in each of the rooms of a hostel. The average hostel room is characterised by three single-mattresses. Each mattress is occupied by about three to four people. If you do the maths, there are approximately 12 people living in a single room. Privacy issues are tackled by hanging a sheet from the ceiling. How romantic. One should bear in mind that the single beds are about a foot apart from one another. Most hostels are either two or three storeys high,  with either two or three rooms per/storey. With only one toilet on each level, and faulty electrical boxes; sharing is not an option. 


A culture of difference: Children play on the street for hours in the township together while their parents busy themselves with their errands. Food for thought - in most Western cultures (and excuse me for being so bold - but this is a blog!) parents would never let their toddlers/children outside of the house, let alone on the streets without their personal supervision. But it is different in the township. Children run the streets on their own for the majority of the day. The main difference though, lies in the fact that despite the township kids' parents might not be directly present, the community works as a whole to ensure the children's safety. The community - in fact - works as a community believe it or not! This is a quality which I find Western values and ethics seem to lack more and more as our society transitions. I have been living in the same security estate in Cape Town for the past 9 years - and I am ashamed to say that to this day, I do not know the names of my neighbours.


A young girl living in one of the old migrant hostels stands outside her dusty courtyard as I walk past with my camera, wearing sandals four times her actual shoe size. 


This little girl and her 'gogo' (Xhosa for grandmother) spend the day selling fruits in vegetables from their makeshift stall on the side of the road. Look at her face. so sceptical of me and my camera. So much character.

Langa Township could be seen as a microcosm of South Africa’s diverse socio-economic culture. Where there are areas in the township made up of shacks (informal house structures) and decaying infrastructure of the old migrant workers’ hostels; across the road there could be a beautiful home, a garden and sometimes even a pool! This is probably one of the aspects of the township that took me most by surprise. There is a certain strip in this township known as the Beverly Hills of Langa. This specific part of the neighbourhood is made up of solid housing (formal development) like the one in this picture. These houses can sell from a starting price of approximately R500, 000. This house in specific (with the Mercedes Benz 4X4 in the driveway), posed as an intense contrast to the informal settlements which lay across the street from it. When I asked Chippa why the people of Beverly Hills are still living in the township, when they can clearly afford to live a life elsewhere (perhaps somewhere in suburbian Cape Town), his reply was simple: “The people of Beverly Hills do not want to leave. This is where they grew up. These are the people they grew up with. This is what they know, and they are very happy to stay here.”

Here, a woman and a young girl stand under a gazebo at what I can describe as the border of the Beverly Hills and the informal settlements. They sell the t-shirts hanging from the line, as a part of a youth community project. The print ‘7455’ is the postal code for Langa. The idea is that anyone who buys these t-shirts and wears them in and around Cape Town will be acknowledged as a past visitor of Langa, working against the divide and towards unity.


The African Gospel Church provides community members with a fully functional church service. (The border of Beverly Hills and the informal settlements, Langa, Cape Town)

The township runs parallel to one of South Africa’s main highways, the N2. What separates the township and the N2 is a polluted river, a small strip of open land, and the power cables seen in this photograph. Each season brings with it new challenges. Unfortunately, the shacks which line the township are easily and inevitably affected by what are often ruthless weather conditions. When there are heavy rain storms, the area floods and the roofs leak. In the summer when the conditions are hot and the wind is strong, shacks are commonly blow over, roofs fly off damaging other surrounding structures, and fire hazards are rife. In the recent past, there was an incident where a power cable snapped under Cape Town’s harsh wind conditions, resulting in a fire eruption along this specific strip shown in the photograph. Homes, livelihoods and people were lost in the blaze, including the newly built government housing projects which ran right along the power lines. An incredibly disappointing and harsh reality was faced by the Langa community, that day as well as the weeks that were to follow.  







This photograph was not taken for artistic purposes. I snapped this picture while walking with Chippa along the outskirts of Langa, along the power cables. I was too intrigued by the story behind this security complex to not get some form of proof that it actually exists. Guarded by a tall black steel fence, is a plot of land characterised by building blocks such as the ones depicted in this photograph. The story goes that FNB (First National Bank) of South Africa purchased this land, and built these apartments with the idea of renting them to members of the Langa community, (in essence, it was bought as a potential investment in mind). However, five years on after its construction, the complex stands empty. Unoccupied. Deserted.  As beautiful as the space is to look at from the outside, FNB was asking for an unreasonable amount of R2, 500 per month for a family to rent (bear in mind that people in Cape Town are paying the same amount for a flat in the suburbs!). This really upset me. Chippa explained how this housing vision was delusional, as it is slap-bang next to a township, where a family of 6 are living off R1,600 a month which barely manages to cover basic food, clothing, medical and schooling costs as it is.


Directly opposite to the security complex owned by FNB on the strip of land between the power cables and the polluted river running parallel to the N2 is this. A lot of rubble lies as evidence from past fires which have left nothing but piles of ‘nothing’.

A couple of metres on from the girls playing with their Barney on the same strip of land (see previous photo), are these bucket-toilets. These four non-flushing toilets are used on a constant basis by the people in the surrounding shacks. To top it off, the company who comes to clear and clean them come only once in a week, and that is if they decide to pitch. The river runs directly behind them.


I have nothing yet I have everything: three little girls run along the strip of land between the power cables and the polluted river. The one girl (centre back) holds their shared stuffed toy, the green and purple dinosaur Barney. They ran up to Chippa and I, smiling and giggling, super curious as to know what we were up to. As they played around us I watched them take turns holding their stuffed toy. Too sweet.


Chippa and I stumbled across a large group of tourists, mainly young volunteers from the US and Canada who too were on a walking township excursion, before having to embark on their individual journeys to various community development projects in around SA – a highly recommended way to gain some form of understanding of SA history, as well as its current placement and/or displacement from the likes of a first world nation. I liked all the different coloured feet in such close proximity to one another. Some sense of a rainbow nation. And a good sense if any.




This woman was selling her handmade arts and crafts near a tourist bus stop in the township. Although she would smile at me in person, she refused to smile in the photograph.


This man was the business partner of the woman in the photograph before. Needless to say, he would not smile for the photo either. He would smile at me as I walked past, but as soon as I lifted my lens into the air, the smile disappeared. 



I managed to snap a shot of this little guy while we were driving past in the car. He just sat in the dust against the pole and gave us a wave as he watched us passing him by, playing amongst the rubble and filth (Langa, Cape Town).



We have Happy Feet: Happy Feet is a non-profit youth project running in Langa which was founded by my tour guide Chippa. What had originally started off as only eight boys learning how to dance the traditional gumboot dance of the mining migrant workers has grown to a school of over 100 children. These children spend 2 hours every day after school practicing how to gumboot dance in an old garage in the middle of Langa. Here the children learn valuable life-skills, and are able to spend their afternoons in a safe ‘after-school’ environment where only positive attitudes are encouraged. When Chippa is not running the Imivuyo Tours, you will be able to find him choreographing dance routines and motivating the children of Happy Feet.



While watching the Happy Feet afternoon concert which they often put on for tourists; a Canadian girl holds one of the township kids, and he is fascinated by her hair, so different to his own.



The Happy Feet performers showing off their skills to the tourists and the younger township kids. They all dance and sing in isiXhosa at the same time. When I asked Chippa what they were singing about, he explained to me that the migrant workers used to sing cheeky songs to one another in the mines as to motivate one another to work harder. These songs have been passed down from generation to generation, and they are what the children sing during their performance (Langa, Cape Town).


What really left me feeling good about this youth project was watching how inspired the younger children of the township were as they watched their older peers on stage. Many of them expressed their excitement of joining the Happy Feet family. I couldn’t get enough of this little guy in the blue though, who at the age of 3 years old, was clapping and stomping for the audience, trying to show everyone how he too could gumboot dance. 



Here is my favourite little man in blue again, occupying the ‘front left’ of the stage. I have no doubt in my mind that he too will be up there one day.

Happy Feet in action (Langa, Cape Town).


Happy Feet audience: not just tourists. Local is lekker! (Langa, Cape Town)


Happy Feet and their audience. So much colour, so much life (Langa, Cape Town).





A young boy crouches low, drawing pictures in the dirt. In front of him is an aged garbage container, rusted and filthy (Langa, Cape Town).


This was the last picture I took in Langa, and I think that it might just be my favourite. A young boy sits on his haunches with a stick in his one hand and a red bottle cap in the other. He ignored me, or maybe he truthfully did not realise that I was standing there. Regardless of this, as hard as I tried, I could not make out what he was staring at (Langa, Cape Town).




So maybe you ask me: what is left to say about Langa? What I have to say is this:

Despite the people of Langa having ‘materialistically’ close to nothing, I feel that they have everything at the same time. The passion, the culture and especially the community. I walked away with an understanding that these people’s priorities were so very different to the ones that I as an individual has initially walked into the township with. But, after spending 3.5 hours collecting photographs of the challenges that make or break their daily lives, I felt closer to them then I could have ever imagined. I walked out a much richer person. I walked out stimulated.

Life in a day is unpredictable. A yesterday can bring you pain as well as happiness, as can a tomorrow.

I could definitely do this day over again. Both the pain – and the happiness.




(Side Note:  My apologies about the delayed upload of these photographs and their captions. Internet connections this side of the world were hard to come by!)