In the early hours of 2 May, a fire ripped through Masiphumelele, a township near Fish Hoek. 1500 shacks were completely destroyed, leaving one casualty and almost 5000 displaced. This township is significant because PASSOP has a help desk there. Although the fire was dangerously close, the office was spared as community members poured water by the bucketsful on the office and put out the fire. However, many were not so fortunate.
Today, I visited Masiphumelele and it was an experience I will never forget. I went with Braam, the director of PASSOP and a volunteer from the ANC. We were stopped near the center of the township by a road blockade. When we made our way to see why traffic was blocked, we found a huge truck with sheets of corrugated iron and wooden posts and hundreds of men busy dividing the materials and carrying them every which way. Each person owning a plot of land was entitled to a few wooden posts and five sheets of corrugated iron—hardly enough to build even a meager shack. We wondered on to what should have been a side street to assess the damage and the rebuilding.
It was so surreal. There I stood, among hundreds of South Africans—and foreigners—busy nailing sheets of iron to their wooden foundation. On the ground were the remains of a beautiful community. Mattress springs, charred microwaves, melted piles of what used to be a chain-link fence, pieces of ceramic plates and shards of broken glass lay strewn across the neighbourhood. As we made our way around the debris, we met some of the most amazing people. People, who despite losing all of their worldly belongings, were optimistic about rebuilding and who put their own needs aside to help their neighbours. The strength and solidarity of these people was not only humbling, but inspiring. And I can’t imagine how a similar disaster in my hometown would be handled, especially if the state responded in a similar manner.
This isn’t the first fire Masiphumelele has ever seen; almost every year, there is a fire. The fires spread quickly because of the wind and because of the proximity of the shacks. There are a few roads through the township but getting a firetruck to respond to a fire like the one on 2 May is almost impossible. Braam and I felt that while the shacks were already destroyed, it would be prudent to mark out space for more roads. However, people were eager to rebuild their homes as fast as they could, given the colder temperatures and possibility for rain. There will be another fire and many of these shacks will be destroyed and will have to be rebuilt—it’s just a matter of when.
Fires aren’t the only threats to this community, however. The winter months of May, June, July and August bring lots of rain. Flooding continues to be a problem as many of these shacks don’t have adequate flooring. While the Western Cape province and city of Cape Town provided the materials for roofs and walls, wouldn’t it be prudent to supply the shack dwellers with cement or at the very least, some type of plastic to lessen the damage caused by flooding?
One thing that I didn’t see however, was toilets. There were no toilets anywhere, just a dirty canal that bisected the township. I saw women filling buckets from this canal, despite the obvious filth—there were all kinds of trash polluting this stream. Without proper sanitation, disease spreads fast, and with winter fast approaching, bacterial epidemics are the last thing that the community of Masiphumelele needs.
As we walked around the neighbourhood, Braam reminded me that only 17 short years ago, during apartheid, there were no parks for the children to play in, no streetlights, no electricity in fact, no running water. As shocked as I was the first time I walked through a township, this was doubly as shocking. I could not imagine living in such conditions. For as much as the South African government is criticized for being inefficient, the progress they have made in 17 years is astounding.
I was also shocked by how politicized the rebuilding was. As municipal elections are only a few weeks away, both the ANC (African National Congress) and the DA (Democratic Alliance) seemed to be in competition for who could provide more resources and assistance. To me, it seemed appalling that it should be so political, but then again, isn’t everything the government does politicized? Every service the government offers, every policy they create, every action they take—it’s all politicized.
Today was a day that I’ll never forget. Walking around the ashes and miscellaneous debris created a sense of helplessness, and reminded me of how much I take for granted. I was also humbled and inspired by the people I met. Despite losing all of their worldly possessions, these people persevered. As one woman put it, “All we can do is rebuild our lives and move forward.”
