A Journey Through a South African Township Brings Back Childhood Memories (PERSPECTIVE)

By Roxy Marosa

(HN, October 11, 2010) - When my friends offered that we spend part of a recent Sunday on an organized tour of Cape Town’s renowned Langa Township, I immediately jumped at the chance.

What a great idea to go around and not have to be the one to tell my guests about the place, I thought to myself. We drove from the relatively pristine Cape Town suburbs, where I’ve lived for the past 17 years, into the township that I’ve come to know well from several earlier visits.Artwork on sale in the township portrays life in Langa and its close proximity to Cape Town

 Langa, which means ‘sun’ in isXhosa, is one of the many areas in South Africa that were designated for Black Africans before the apartheid era. It is the oldest of such suburbs in Cape Town and was the location of much resistance to apartheid. The first Township B&B by the name of Ma Neo (mother of Neo) was opened in 1999, and in 2005, Gugas'Thebe, a cultural centre, was inaugurated.

In the beginning this visit was nothing special to me because I grew up in a township in Kimberley and I still have relatives who are residents there. During my four years of working in the building industry, I would visit as often as I could.

On our arrival at Guga Sthebe we were greeted by a young female township resident who acted as our tour guide.

We proceeded to do a two-hour walk, stopping and viewing historic memorial monuments that were built by the community members of Langa.

As we walked, things became familiar to me again. We visited a hostel which now housed families but were originally built during the apartheid era to accommodate men who came from rural areas seeking employment. No women were allowed to live there at the time. These men left their families behind to live in the cities for a period of a year until they could go back home for a visit - usually during Christmas. Some would visit their families as infrequently as every two or three years. Some never returned back at all. There have been many tears shed in Langa.Langa women tell their story to Roxy, sitting on beds that accommodate several family members

During their time living in the hostels, the men would mingle with the community in the evenings and weekends, make new friends, and even start relationships with the women. Most would develop into committed relationships without marrying the local woman, and some would produce children. These men would then have two families to support - one in Langa and another in the rural area - hence the long periods without any visits.

After the abolishment of apartheid, the hostel dwelling rules were relaxed to allow families - opening the way for the women and their children to move in with the ‘husband’. You can imagine the chaos it could have created when the wife back home decided to come visit ‘her’ husband. 

As we approached we could see the dilapidated state of the hostels - set out in a series of tall buildings with open windows and curtains blowing in the wind. Music blared out of the cars parked haphazardly around the hostels. Compared to the other quiet areas of the township, this area was abuzz with activity. People of all ages were walking around, and you could feel a high level of energy on this Sunday afternoon. There’s no landscaping, and washing lines are strewn randomly between the buildings.

The home that we visited was a communal living arrangement, as are all the other homes. There was just one door for people to come and go, and even though the sun was shining on this glorious spring day, it was dark inside.

The commune had an entrance room, a toilet and shower area, a tiny kitchen and a bedroom. At the entrance we met a beautiful young lady who seemed so shy. She was using a plastic medium sized bowl on a bench to hand wash clothes. This common area is used during the day for hand washing laundry, and as a passage way to the other parts of the commune.

The kitchen, which was probably no more than three square meters, is used for cooking and storage of sleeping mattresses. The bedroom had three single beds - one occupied by a man sleeping and another with two women sitting. They were uncomfortable speaking to us but yet seemed eager to share their stories. We learned that each bed was owned by a family – meaning a couple and their children. A sign in front of a clinic in Langa

The grown woman told us that she had three children aged 14, 12 and 6. All were born at the commune, and pretty much know of no life beyond Langa, The bed with the sleeping man was home to a family of five, and the other to a family of four. This was mind boggling to me - as well as to my guests.

My disbelief stemmed from the fact that, in this day and age in South Africa - the wealthiest nation on the African continent - we have families living in this type of misery.

I had many questions race through my mind and I voiced them. I asked about the children’s sleeping arrangements, and was told the mattress in the kitchen was brought in at night to accommodate all of them. Mornings are challenging as limited water and sanitation facilities make it difficult for children to get ready in time for school. I almost broke into tears when they told me that in winter there was no water heater and this forces the children to wake up even earlier to light the one primus stove shared by all families, to heat up water.

My curiosity with the cramped living arrangements almost got the better of me, and I stopped myself from asking wether she was not concerned about the children being exposed to sex given the sleeping arrangements. But I concluded that their children have probably already seen or heard more than most kids their age have.Langa women returning from church

I recalled the first six years of my life, when I lived with 10 other family members in a four-room home. The next year I lived in a 4 roomed home where my parents rented one room to house all six of us. Sleeping in the same room with grown people meant it was inevitable to see what goes on. Being the eldest, my brother and I washed outside, in the same washing basin to save time and paraffin. I found myself stopping my conversation with the woman as I recalled my childhood.A small church in Langa

I continued my conversation with the woman wanting to know if her family stayed in this arrangement because it was free. But she said they paid minimal rent and the sharing reduced the total cost. She spoke with resignation and acceptance of the situation.

She was a stoic woman and her main interest was for her children to be fed, have a place to sleep, and to attend school. She said she had to believe that her children would be safe in the confines of the township.

My immediate, natural reaction was to rescue the families and change the whole situation. If I had the magic lamp I knew what my wish would be for that moment.The crumbling hostel buildings which house several families per room, with laundry in the front

We proceeded to see what was described as the better part of the township, but I was still consumed with feelings that transported me back to my childhood. I had a moment of appreciating all that my parents did to get us out of the communal situation similar to what I had just witnessed. I had a breakthrough moment and realised that I had blocked out that part of my past life, and that the tour gave me the opportunity to embrace it. 

-- Cape Town-based Roxy Marosa is host of the Roxy Marosa Show and runs several projects assisting people affected by HIV and Aids in South Africa.  All photos: Michael Bociurkiw/HUMNEWS.

Comments

[Kristin Catsonis]

Roxy,

What a touching and informative article. I had no idea the townships were still in such a state either. Keep up the amazing work! You are making the world aware, hence making a difference!

Kristin