township visit (khayelitsha and gugulethu, cape town)

This week, I had the opportunity to ride along on a visit to a non-profit and a couple of schools in two of the biggest townships in Cape Town. Jane, a woman who gives time and money to a variety of causes in and around Cape Town, took me along with her for the afternoon as she checked up on friends and projects she supports.

First, we visited the Khayelitsha office of TAC, the Treatment Action Campaign, a group that works to educate people on AIDS and HIV. They manage volunteers (often unemployed youth) who go door-to-door in their neighborhoods and settlements, telling people about how HIV is contracted, why condoms are important, and resources available for treatment. Jane and I met with her friend Mandla Majola, the District Coordinator of the Khayelitsha branch.

Mandla spoke to me about the main problems facing Khayelitsha: it has between 750,000 and 1 million residents, but does not have proper sanitation or housing services. Some areas do not have roads, so are nearly impossible to reach with emergency health and police services. Unemployment is around 40% (as evidenced by the number of people walking around town at mid-day). Most homes are made of wood or tin, and don't have toilets - an average of 10 homes shares one toilet (and those are often actually just porta-potties). Finally, crime, especially rape and abuse, are too common. His biggest concern, however, was the increasing usage of "tic," or methamphetamine, especially among teenagers in the settlements.

I didn't have a camera with me this week, so here's a Google image of Khayelitsha that is pretty representative of what you see from the road.

I asked him what jobs people are looking to get: most people are unskilled, and really can only work as "domestics" (maids or housekeepers) or laborers - gardeners or on construction crews. Many people have moved to Cape Town from the Eastern Cape, an area with few large cities and even fewer jobs than Cape Town.

Mandla and I at TAC offices.

I can't say the conversation was uplifting, but it was a good dose of reality for someone who's been spending most of her time in South Africa hiking or tasting wine (as you can tell by the pictures on this blog).

TAC offices in Khayelitsha

Next, we went to two primary (elementary) schools. At the first, the John Parma School in Nyanga, we looked at a classroom that Gustavus Adolphus College in St. Peter, MN has donated supplies to (via Jane, who is from Minnesota). At the second, The Lehlononolo School in Gugulethu, we saw a garden that Jane's non-profit has funded in an attempt to improve the  diets of children at the school. I did see a computer lab with about 20 computers, each probably 15 years old (and only some working). We spoke with some teachers, who told us about their class sizes: 37 in one, 45 in another. (Something of a far cry from the private school where Jim is teaching; he has one class with 9 students). Parents must pay for school uniforms to attend these government schools, but they are the least expensive option; wealthier families can pay for a "C Level" school, with moderate fees (a few thousand USD per year), or a private school, with fees ranging from $8,000 USD on up.

At The Lehlononolo School's courtyard. Lehlononolo means "blessing" in Sotho. Pictured are Lydia, her son Teo in his school uniform, the school's acting principle, Jane, two teachers, and me.

Jane introduced me to Lydia and her son Teo, both living with HIV, and I heard a bit about their health problems. Lydia and Teo both get health services from the national healthcare system; they are both on antiretroviral drugs (ARVs) and have lived much longer than Jane ever expected they would. His suppressed immune system means that Teo has had tuberculosis numerous times in his 10 years, and has had to have various surgeries to manage other health problems.

Finally, we stopped to see Mary Sili, Jane's friend since 2003. Mary lived in Gugulethu, in a house she's been in since she and her husband were moved from their first home in Simonstown (on the Cape Peninsula) in the 1950s. Mary's home was lovely. They had a comfortable leather couch, a big screen television, large framed pictures of their six grandchildren on the walls (all the children of their son, and mostly living with their respective mothers), an indoor bathroom, a new dining room table, and a covered car port. Mary and her husband had both worked for most of their lives, and had been retired for a few years (Mary is 72 years old).

Me and Mary in her home.

 Mary had a unique story about apartheid: her mother was "Coloured" (South African classification for someone who is mixed race or often of Indian descent) and her father was "Black" (meaning African). Under apartheid, Coloureds had more privileges than Blacks. (In modern-day South Africa, we meet lots of people who refer to themselves as colored, and we see that many coloreds still have better education, homes and jobs than most blacks). Mary and her sister were raised in a convent after their mother died (Mary was 12, and her sister was 9 at the time). When it came time for them to leave their sheltered lives at the convent, they had to get their work papers in order. Mary went to the government office to get hers, and she was classified as "Black." Her sister, however, was classified as "Coloured." Mary showed me a picture of her and her sister; they looked nearly like fraternal twins.  

I found Mary's friendliness and positivity really appealing after a day of feeling a bit on edge. She told a few stories about other people in her life - a girl who was being sexually abused by her stepfather in the area, who Mary and her husband helped to get out of the home and into foster care (and eventually graduate from university). But throughout, she seemed at peace with the hardships that had come her family's way, and happy to be alive and relatively well with her husband, son and a granddaughter to care for.

As Jim and I see more of southern Africa (outside of the beautiful tourist destinations), we'll continue to write about what we see. If you're interested in reading about apartheid, I'm in the middle of My Traitor's Heart, by Rian Malan. It's eye-opening, and comes from an interesting perspective: a liberal Afrikaner, who tries to dissect his "clan" and their worldview.