A blind man's house

As Madoda places his hands on the box containing a swarm of bees, I start to panic. Even though I’m covered head to toe in a bee suit, I am afraid of being stung but fear more for him because he doesn’t care to wear protection over his face.

He remains calm and confident in what he is doing, slowly shuffling his hands across the box, feeling for the latch and then opening it. A bee lands on his arm but he does not panic as he reaches inside.

At fourteen years old Madoda, now 37, went completely blind. As a child he had reoccurring problems with his eyes, until he fell sick and eventually lost his eye sight all together. Despite this, Madoda enjoys an active lifestyle and is a supportive father to his four children.

At his home in Joza, Grahamstown he is the sole provider for his four children and his girlfriend Miriam. Miriam has struggled to keep a stable job and is currently unemployed. Madoda is also unemployed and struggles to support his family on his monthly disability grant of R970 per month. Their two eldest children go to Numpumelelo School on as little as R280 a month.

Madoda is a client at the Grahamstown and District Relief Association (Gadra). Gadra’s aim is to eradicate poverty in the Grahamstown community, through counselling, training and the development of sustainable projects.

The bee keeping project was developed by Gadra in partnership with the Makana Meadery. Its goal is to give blind people the opportunity to learn bee keeping skills and in turn generate an income from the honey, which will improve the quality of their lives.

Madoda was one out of six trainees who took part in the project and is now equipped with efficient bee keeping skills which he can use to generate an additional income.

Dr Garth Cambray, director of the Makana Meadery explains that the blind tend to be calmer around a swarm of bees than sighted people and this is why they make proficient bee keepers.

Cambray understands the desperate need for sustainable projects in Grahamstown and believes the bee keeping project will continue to be a success. Gadra seeks to develop sustainable projects that will change the lives of people in the Grahamstown community, especially in the township where poverty is rife.

Like Madoda, most of the blind people at Gadra are unemployed and their disability grant is the main source of income for their family. According to Social Investment Exchange (sasix), less than 3% of blind people are employed in South Africa. Lack of opportunities to learn skills and lack of training, results in a low self-esteem and social isolation amongst the blind.

Madoda has learnt how to read Braille, plays musical instruments, bowls and has acquired some computer skills. He is confident in himself and his abilities.

Each day of the week at Gadra is assigned a different activity. Many of the skills, he was taught by his mentor Pumi Poro, one of the co-ordinators at Gadra. Gadra strives to uplift members in the Grahamstown community and has given hope and confidence to Madoda and many others. .

Madoda flashes me a smile and calls me over to the box housing the bees. I hesitantly look inside. He laughs at me, as though he can see the nervous expression on my face and then points at the honey.

Nature's Will

On 8 October 2008, a tornado struck Grahamstown, tearing houses apart and uprooting trees. At about 10:30 am, Masisa Bans was inside her house in Hlalani location doing washing when she noticed a dark cloud looming outside and the wind began to howl.

“My whole house started to shake and hail pounded down on my roof,” says Bans. Before she could make her way outside to see what was going on, the roof of her house was lifted and blown off. “I was in the living room and the walls just collapsed”.

Grahamstown’s police spokesperson, Milandi Coetzer stated that 11 people were injured and 65 left homeless by the tornado that swept through Grahamstown, lasting approximately half an hour.

In the Scott’s Farm area, 15 houses were damaged and in the Vukani Location 7 houses lost their roofs.

South African weather services spokesperson, Garth Sampson said that the thunderstorm was caused by a low cut-off and that it was not surprising that a tornado occurred given these conditions.

On the other side of town, Erica Papu, a worker at Dulcé restaurant had no idea what had happened to her house on “N” Street in Hlalani Location.

“My mother phoned me and said ‘You have to come home. You don’t have a house anymore,’” says Papu. “I thought she was exaggerating, but when I got home my house was gone. I tried to search for my belongings, but everything was damaged”.

Beauty Jamela, another resident from Hlalani Location was watching television in her living room when the tornado hit. “I’ve lived in Grahamstown for 43 years and I’ve never seen a storm like that,” says Jamela.

An emergency disaster meeting was held at the Makana municipal council chambers to make arrangements for the people affected by the tornado. Those left homeless were housed in community halls and blankets and mattresses were provided by Settlers Hospital and the South African Defence Force.

“The community halls were crowded and they only gave us one small blanket for ourselves and our children. The municipality must learn to act quicker,” says Lulu Nonxuba, a resident from Hlalani Location.

The Makana Municipality has implemented a relief programme which is providing those affected with temporary accommodation, however their response appears to be slow leaving many residents frustrated.

“The municipality did not give us one zinc to rebuild our houses. My sister gave me money to buy a new roof but I’m keeping all my receipts and they must pay. We have waited too long,” says Nonxuba.

“My name is not on the list for a house and I don’t know why. I am unemployed and now I must pay to rebuild my house with the money from my children’s grant. This was not my fault. They seem to be helping the people who were not badly affected first, when people like myself don’t even have a house anymore. Where does the municipality think we are staying,” says Erica Papu

Just a fling

Fifty kilometres from Grahamstown in the Eastern Cape, is the quaint rural town of Alicedale, a town that time seems to have forgotten. I had never heard of the town before embarking on our class assignment and so I had no idea what to expect.

As we drove into the town, suspicious eyes followed us closely, no doubt wondering what a group of students were doing there. The harsh sun beat down on us and everything felt older, drier and slower in this ghostly town. Some people flashed us friendly smiles from home porches and others simply looked the other way.

Alicedale, like many other towns in post-apartheid South Africa is still severely divided along racial and economic lines. As we parked our cars at the Bushman Sands hotel, I began to realise the severe disparities between the rich and the poor that existed here.

A clear sign of this is the Bushman Sands luxury hotel and golf estate which is situated right across from the Alicedale township. Two completely contrasting worlds, side by side.

One of the benefits that expected to emerge out of the building of the hotel was to provide job opportunities to the people of Alicedale. However, this was never realized and the local community believe that their interests have been ignored as they have barely benefited from the business. Unofficial accounts put Alicedale’s unemployment rate at between 90-100 per cent.

Nadia Vrolik, is 18 years old and lives in Transriviere, the coloured township in Alicedale. She is a temporary employee at Jan Paul Barnard’s mohair factory and earns approximately R800 a month, when there is work available.

She seems like any other teenage girl, but she has a great deal of responsibilities. At home, she is the sole provider for her mother and her own one year old baby girl, Nuzzley. When her mother fell ill, Nadia had no other choice but to drop out of school and become the provider for her family.

Statistics show that in South Africa, 1 in 3 girls will have had a baby by the age of 20 years old. Nadia is not the only one out of her group of friends who dropped out of school and fell pregnant.

“I was very disappointed in myself for falling pregnant so young,” says Nadia. “Many people in the community judged me, but my friends could understand.”

The father of her child, Brenton cannot find work in Alicedale and so works in Port Elizabeth, however the relationship between them is not strong as Nadia says it was “just a fling”.

Nadia explains that the majority of the people in Alicedale cannot find work. “We can’t get jobs, so every day people drink, the whole week they drink.”

There is clearly a need for sustainable projects in Alicedale and the community needs to work together and help each other in order to build a sustainable future for the town.
Education and the needs of the youth also need to be a top priority. Schools in Alicedale should be able to provide these young mothers with the opportunity to continue their education.
Although Nadia dreams of the day when she can return to school and eventually find a better job, she feels there is little way out of her situation. Despite her innocence, Nadia shows a tremendous amount of courage and maturity and is doing the best she can in her situation. “I hope she doesn’t make the same mistakes that I made, I hope she doesn’t fall pregnant before she is ready,” says Nadia about Nuzzley.

In your bones

Sangomas are traditional healers in Southern Africa. They perform symbolic healing in the belief that their ancestors protect and guide the living. Deeply connected to the spirit world, masters of trance dance, and indigenous medicine, sangomas are respected healers in their communities.

The television blares from inside the small house in Extension Six in Joza, the township that sits on the perimeter of Grahamstown. A group of children sit with eyes fixed to an episode of Isidingo. I am told by a girl, named Cindy, to take a seat with the other patients and that Mamngwevu will see me in a moment.

She brings me a cup of tea and a rusk. I am surprised at how professional everything is, as my expectations had been very different. I explain to Cindy that I am here to do a documentary on a sangoma. She smiles and tells me to follow her to the hut at the back of the house.

In Southern Africa the number of sangomas, far outnumber those of western-style doctors. In South Africa, 84% of the indigenous population consult a sangoma more than three times a year. It is estimated that there are two hundred thousand practicing sangomas in South Africa.

An important distinction must be made between the ancestrally designated diviner or mediator, isangoma, and the doctor or inyanya. The inyanya primarily works with herbs and unlike the isangoma, has not been called by the ancestors. However, many sangomas, like Mamngwevu do practice as herbalists as well as mediators.

As I walk into the hut, a pungent aroma fills the air. A mpepho plant is burning to attract the ancestors and its sweet smoke fills my lungs. Sangomas believe that the ancestors reside in the huts and therefore they are sacred places.
I watch the women as they sit on the floor, pounding hemp with steel rods, their movements synchronous with one another. The room is cold and dark, the late afternoon sun peeks through a small window. I realise these must be Mamngwevu’s trainees or thwasa as they are called. Cindy speaks to them in isiXhosa telling them why I am here. They glance up at me and smile, nod their heads and carry on pounding.

When a sangoma is called to heal by the ancestors he or she will experience an illness, often psychosis or pains in the stomach, shoulder or neck. He or she will then undergo Thwasa, a period of training including learning humility towards the ancestors, purification through steaming, washing in the blood of sacrificed animals and the use of muti.

One of the thwasa, Ntombendaba, tells me she has been training for seven years with Mamngwevu. She explains that it can take many years before one is ready and that it is not an easy process, as your training goes according to your dreams and it is not cheap.

Sangomas are able to access advice from their ancestors in three ways: possession by an ancestor, throwing of bones and interpreting dreams. In possession state the sangoma works herself into a trance by singing and dancing to the beat of drums, allowing her ego to step aside so that her body can communicate directly with the ancestors.

Some sangomas possess a collection of small bones, shells and seeds, each with specific significance to human life. The sangoma will throw the bones but the ancestors will control where they lie.

Sangomas can either interpret their patient’s dreams or their own dreams, which may have relevance to their patient’s life. A sangoma will often give their patient muti, a medicine of plant and animal origin which can be smoked, drunk, inhaled, smeared on the body or bathed in.

Phiwemna, one of the trainees, picks up a bowl of Iingcambu (roots) showing me which Iingcambu they would give a patient for a headache, stomach ache or other illnesses. This new information swirls around in my head as I try to grasp it.

“You have to be tolerant of you trainer. You have to listen to your ancestors and do what they say. Being a sangoma is not about acquiring wealth, but about helping others,” says another trainee, Kholeka.

The women begin to cover their faces in white clay and drape beads around their foreheads and necks. Mamngwevu, the sangoma I have come to meet steps into the hut, nods at me and sits down. She is dressed in an array of bright colours and draped in beads from head to toe.

An elaborately beaded pipe is lit and handed to her. She inhales and slowly puffs out. The sun is disappearing outside and I should be getting home. Suddenly, a drum is brought into the hut and I know that what is about to happen should not be missed.

The small hut starts to vibrate with singing and stomping feet. The beat of the drum pulses through my body. I want to put down my camera and join in the celebration but the opportunity is too great to miss.

The dancing is precise, feet moving in patterns across the floor, colourful skirts swaying side to side. The drumming and singing grows louder and louder as the women work themselves into a trance. Sweat starts to pour from their faces as entering this trance state requires an immense amount of energy and concentration.

Then, one by one they drop to the floor shouting, arms lifted to the sky. Kholeka begins to shout, her voice transformed from sweet and smooth to deep and husky. I wish I could understand what she is saying but the spectacle is fascinating enough on its own.

The singing goes on for about an hour and when they stop they collapse to the floor, exhausted. I am later told that the spirit had entered Kholeka’s body and when this happened she became a channel for the ancestors to communicate.

“It is a great honour to be called by the ancestors to become a sangoma,” says Phiwemna. “We are here to heal and help the community,” she says.

When I leave Joza at the end of the day, I feel completely at peace and my mind swells with this newly acquired African wisdom. Western culture teaches that the more one acquires, the happier one will be. We learn to self-indulge and believe we are the centre of the universe. Sangomas believe in giving, healing and self-sacrifice. This is a cultural practice I think we all could learn a great deal from.

The Outies

This journey started last year when I met Shane Viljoen at Salem Crossroads. Our third year project was to do a story on fatherhood and my colleague and I thought that Shane’s story and his life would be an interesting one to tell. I can still clearly remember him walking out of the farm house to meet myself and my colleague. He was wearing a worn-out vest with tattoos peeping out and cigarette tangled from his mouth. At first I was very apprehensive, wondering what on earth we were doing at a place like this. Towering above me, Shane flashed me a smile and shook my hand. It was the beginning of a friendship.

Salem Crossroads is situated about 15 kilometres outside of Grahamstown in the Eastern Cape Province. From the highway it looks like just a farm stall and a small nursery, but for those who care to learn a bit more, it is actually a Christian-based safe house for destitute men and offers housing and rehabilitation for those addicted to drugs and alcohol. The farm is owned by, Noel Banfield and has been operating for 32 years. Banfield is a devoted Christian and used to run his own engineering company. He believes he was called by God to help these men and so sold his company to his son and donated his farm house as a safe house.

Although he does not live on the farm with the men, he manages the farm and provides them with counselling and devotion services every morning. Banfield says he strongly believes in what he is doing and that his Christian-based method works. Unlike other rehabilitation centres, Salem Crossroads is self-sufficient and the relationship between Banfield and the men is based solely on trust. When someone arrives on the farm, Banfield takes him under his wing and learns as much as he can about them.

The men are provided for, free of charge on condition that they rid their addiction and partake in the general upkeep of the farm, which includes running the nursery. Each of them have a different responsibility on the farm, be it running the kitchen and cooking, working in the nursery, managing the farm stall or butchery or planting vegetables on the land. The men are not contracted to stay on the farm. Some like Shane have been in and out of Salem Crossroads for 20 years and some men may only stay two days.

I was moved last year when Shane opened up to us about his life and hoped to develop the story further by documenting some of the other men. Although most of the men were very helpful and friendly, I felt that some of them simply viewed me as a nosy journalist who was poking around in their personal business. I knew that it would be difficult for them to trust me, when many of them have never been able to depend on anyone in their lives.

Shane Viljoen (47) has been in and out of Salem Crossroads for the past 20 years. He became involved with drugs when he was twelve years old and has battled the addiction for his whole life. Although his father died when he was young, he describes his upbringing as reasonably stable. However, Shane could not stay out of trouble and at 19 years old he was sentenced to eight years in jail for car theft. “You don’t want to remember it, you want to shut it off from your mind,” says Shane when talking about his years in jail.

After his years in jail, Shane became a pimp in Port Elizabeth in order to fuel his drug addiction. “It was a situation I wasn’t forced into, but it was one way for me to survive, if I didn’t do it someone else would. There is a huge market for prostitution in South Africa, because drug addicts are getting younger and younger, because their fathers and mothers are drug addicts. I worry that my children will go that way,” says Shane.

Shane’s three children live with his ex-girlfriend at a safe house in Port Elizabeth. She denies Shane any contact with the children. Shane hopes that one day he will be able to have a relationship with his children, but he is not confident that he won’t relapse if he leaves Salem Crossroads. “It would be more familiar for me to fall back into that lifestyle, than any other lifestyle.”

Trevor Gillespie (58) has lived at Salem Crossroads for about a year and describes his upbringing as “dysfunctional”. He says he seldom attended school, being “left to do my own thing”. He went to work at sea at 14 years old and at 16 years started drinking heavily. “If it wasn’t for the bottle I would have my own boat by now.” For most of his life he has worked on bulk carriers as a radio operator and says he only feels at home when he is out at sea. After Trevor’s second wife was hijacked and shot, Trevor’s drinking problem escalated and he lost the ability to take care of his four children. His children live in England with his sister and he does not have any contact with them. “They’re happy and financially secure; I’d rather not interfere there.” Trevor has been at Salem for nearly one year and stopped drinking nine months ago. He is confident that he has changed his ways and once he passes his medical test, plans to go back to sea.

Willie Oeslofe (57) has been at Salem Crossroads for three years. He is fond of animals and enjoys working in the bush. During his married years, Willie described himself as a social drinker but when he discovered his wife was having an affair his drinking escalated. Willie left his wife and two daughters in Johannesburg and hit the road. “I couldn’t share my wife with another man so I gave her the house; everything and I left.” He has not seen or spoken to his daughters for 14 years. Willie worked for his brother for a while, until his brother shot himself and afterwards Willie’s drinking problem got worse. He used to be a commercial artist and sign writer and still freelances for a small income. Willie plans to leave Salem at the end of the year, contact his daughters and start a new life for himself.

The relationships that I formed with all three of these men were very interesting. “Most people don’t like me, once they get to know me,” says Shane. I think that I’m quite a trusting person who can very easily relate to people and empathise with them. I learnt that one can never be too quick to judge someone, that there are always underlying issues about a person one needs to learn. I truly believe that despite what people have done in the past, people are inherently good.

I hoped that these photographs would honestly show the situation that these men have fallen into. I believe that people can relate to these men on a universal scale and not just in a South African context. In this sense I believe the piece is powerful. Their stories tell us about a kind of situation and breakdown which anyone of us could stumble into. My aim is to show that these men should not be forgotten, judged or frowned upon by society but rather given another chance.

My hope is that people watching this piece will in one way or another be able to relate to these men, whether they have experienced the same problems themselves or know someone who has, whether they have had an addiction or whether they have lost contact with their loved ones. My motivation is that this piece can in some small way offer hope to someone out there that needs it.

The Outies

This journey started last year when I met Shane Viljoen at Salem Crossroads. Our third year project was to do a story on fatherhood and my colleague and I thought that Shane’s story and his life would be an interesting one to tell. I can still clearly remember him walking out of the farm house when we met. He was wearing a worn-out vest with tattoos peeping out and cigarette dangled from his mouth. At first I was very apprehensive, wondering what on earth we were doing at a place like this. Towering above me, Shane flashed me a smile and shook my hand. It was the beginning of a friendship.

Salem Crossroads is situated about 15 kilometres outside of Grahamstown in the Eastern Cape Province. From the highway it looks like just a farm stall and a small nursery, but for those who care to learn a bit more, it is actually a Christian-based safe house for destitute men, and offers housing and rehabilitation for those addicted to drugs and alcohol. The farm is owned by Noel Banfield and has been operating for 32 years. Banfield is a devoted Christian and used to run his own engineering company. He believes he was called by God to help these men and so sold his company to his son and donated his farm as a safe house.

Although he does not live on the farm with the men, Banfield manages the farm and provides the men with counselling and devotion services every morning. Banfield says he strongly believes in what he is doing and that his Christian-based method works. Unlike other rehabilitation centres, Salem Crossroads is self-sufficient and the relationship between Banfield and the men is based solely on trust. When someone arrives on the farm, Banfield takes him under his wing and learns as much as he can about them.

The men are provided for, free of charge, on condition that they rid their addiction and partake in the general upkeep of the farm, which includes running the nursery. Each individual has a different responsibility on the farm, be it running the kitchen and cooking, working in the nursery, managing the farm stall or butchery or planting vegetables on the land. The men are not contracted to stay on the farm. Some like Shane have been in and out of Salem Crossroads for 20 years and some may only stay two days.

I was moved last year when Shane opened up to us about his life and I hoped to develop the story further by documenting some of the other men. Although most of the men were very helpful and friendly, I felt that some simply viewed me as a nosy journalist, poking around in their personal business. I knew that it would be difficult for them to trust me, when many have possibly never been able to depend on anyone in their lives.

I knew right then that these men were never going to open up to me, unless I opened up to them, and that our relationship would have to be a symbiotic one based on empathy and trust. The three men I decided to focus on were, Shane Viljoen, Willie Oelosfe and Trevor Gillespie, three different men, from different walks of life.

Shane Viljoen (47) became involved with drugs when he was twelve years old and has battled addiction his whole life. Although his father died when he was young, he describes his upbringing as reasonably stable. However, Shane could not stay out of trouble and at 19 years old he was sentenced to eight years in jail for car theft. “You don’t want to remember it, you want to shut it off from your mind,” says Shane when talking about his years in jail.

After his years in jail, Shane became a pimp in Port Elizabeth in order to fuel his drug addiction. “It was a situation I wasn’t forced into, but it was one way for me to survive, if I didn’t do it someone else would. There is a huge market for prostitution in South Africa, because drug addicts are getting younger and younger, because their fathers and mothers are drug addicts. I worry that my children will go that way,” says Shane.

Shane’s three children live with his ex-girlfriend at a safe house in Port Elizabeth. She denies Shane any contact with the children. Shane hopes that one day he will be able to have a relationship with his children, but he is not confident that he won’t relapse if he leaves Salem Crossroads. “It would be more familiar for me to fall back into that lifestyle, than any other lifestyle.”

Trevor Gillespie (58) has lived at Salem Crossroads for about a year and describes his upbringing as “dysfunctional”. He says he seldom attended school, being “left to do my own thing”. He went to work at sea at 14 years old and at 16 started drinking heavily. “If it wasn’t for the bottle I would have my own boat by now”. For most of his life he has worked on bulk carriers as a radio operator and says he only feels at home when he is out at sea. After Trevor’s second wife was hijacked and shot, Trevor’s drinking problem escalated and he lost the ability to take care of his four children. His children live in England with his sister and he does not have any contact with them. “They’re happy and financially secure; I’d rather not interfere there.” Trevor has been at Salem for nearly one year and stopped drinking nine months ago. He is confident that he has changed his ways and once he passes his medical test, plans to go back to sea.

Willie Oeslofe (57) has been at Salem Crossroads for three years. He is fond of animals and enjoys working in the bush. During his married years, Willie described himself as a social drinker but when he discovered his wife was having an affair his drinking escalated. Willie left his wife and two daughters in Johannesburg and hit the road. “I couldn’t share my wife with another man so I gave her the house; everything and I left.” He has not seen or spoken to his daughters for 14 years. Willie worked for his brother for a while, until his brother shot himself. Afterwards Willie’s drinking problem got worse. He used to be a commercial artist and sign writer and still freelances for a small income. Willie plans to leave Salem at the end of the year, contact his daughters and start a new life for himself.

I hoped that these photographs would honestly show the situation that these men have fallen into. I believe that people can relate to these men, as I did, on a universal scale and not just in a South African context. In this sense I believe the piece is powerful. Their stories tell us about a kind of situation and breakdown which anyone of us could stumble into. My aim is to show that these men should not be forgotten, judged or frowned upon by society but rather given another chance.

My hope is that the viewer will in one way or another be able to relate to these men, whether they have experienced the same problems themselves or know someone who has, whether they have had an addiction or whether they have lost contact with their loved ones. My motivation is that this piece can in some small way offer hope to someone who needs it.

This project has been an important learning curve for me. It has pushed me far beyond the boundaries that I ever expected to go as a student photographer. I have formed a relationship with people that under normal circumstances I never would have met and I have learnt a great deal from them.

Nature's will

On 8 October 2008, a tornado struck Grahamstown, tearing houses apart and uprooting trees. At about 10:30 am, Masisa Bans was inside her house in Hlalani location doing washing when she noticed a dark cloud looming outside and the wind began to howl.

“My whole house started to shake and hail pounded down on my roof,” says Bans. Before she could make her way outside to see what was going on, the roof of her house was lifted and blown off. “I was in the living room and the walls just collapsed”.

Grahamstown’s police spokesperson, Milandi Coetzer stated that 11 people were injured and 65 left homeless by the tornado that swept through Grahamstown, lasting approximately half an hour. In the Scott’s Farm area, 15 houses were damaged and in the Vukani Location 7 houses lost their roofs.

South African weather services spokesperson, Garth Sampson said that the thunderstorm was caused by a low cut-off and that it was not surprising that a tornado occurred given these conditions.

On the other side of town, Erica Papu, a worker at Dulcé restaurant had no idea what had happened to her house on “N” Street in Hlalani Location.

“My mother phoned me and said ‘You have to come home. You don’t have a house anymore,’” says Papu. “I thought she was exaggerating, but when I got home my house was gone. I tried to search for my belongings, but everything was damaged”.

Beauty Jamela, another resident from Hlalani Location was watching television in her living room when the tornado hit. “I’ve lived in Grahamstown for 43 years and I’ve never seen a storm like that,” says Jamela.

An emergency disaster meeting was held at the Makana municipal council chambers to make arrangements for the people affected by the tornado. Those left homeless were housed in community halls and blankets and mattresses were provided by Settlers Hospital and the South African Defence Force.

“The community halls were crowded and they only gave us one small blanket for ourselves and our children. The municipality must learn to act quicker,” says Lulu Nonxuba, a resident from Hlalani Location.

The Makana Municipality has implemented a relief programme which is providing those affected with temporary accommodation, however their response appears to be slow leaving many residents frustrated.

“The municipality did not give us one zinc to rebuild our houses. My sister gave me money to buy a new roof but I’m keeping all my receipts and they must pay. We have waited too long,” says Nonxuba.

“My name is not on the list for a house and I don’t know why. I am unemployed and now I must pay to rebuild my house with the money from my children’s grant. This was not my fault. They seem to be helping the people who were not badly affected first, when people like myself don’t even have a house anymore. Where does the municipality think we are staying,” says Erica Papu

"Just a fling"

Fifty kilometres from Grahamstown in the Eastern Cape, is the quaint rural town of Alicedale, a town that time seems to have forgotten. I had never heard of the town before embarking on our class assignment and so I had no idea what to expect.

As we drove into the town, suspicious eyes followed us closely, no doubt wondering what a group of students were doing there. The harsh sun beat down on us and everything felt older, drier and slower in this ghostly town. Some people flashed us friendly smiles from home porches and others simply looked the other way.

Alicedale, like many other towns in post-apartheid South Africa is still severely divided along racial and economic lines. As we parked our cars at the Bushman Sands hotel, I began to realise the severe disparities between the rich and the poor that existed here.
A clear sign of this is the Bushman Sands luxury hotel and golf estate which is situated right across from the Alicedale township. Two completely contrasting worlds, side by side.

One of the benefits that expected to emerge out of the building of the hotel was to provide job opportunities to the people of Alicedale. However, this was never realized and the local community believe that their interests have been ignored as they have barely benefited from the business. Unofficial accounts put Alicedale’s unemployment rate at between 90-100 per cent.

Nadia Vrolik, is 18 years old and lives in Transriviere, the coloured township in Alicedale. She is a temporary employee at Jan Paul Barnard’s mohair factory and earns approximately R800 a month, when there is work available.

She seems like any other teenage girl, but she has a great deal of responsibilities. At home, she is the sole provider for her mother and her own one year old baby girl, Nuzzley. When her mother fell ill, Nadia had no other choice but to drop out of school and become the provider for her family.

Statistics show that in South Africa, 1 in 3 girls will have had a baby by the age of 20 years old. Nadia is not the only one out of her group of friends who dropped out of school and fell pregnant.

“I was very disappointed in myself for falling pregnant so young,” says Nadia. “Many people in the community judged me, but my friends could understand.”

The father of her child, Brenton cannot find work in Alicedale and so works in Port Elizabeth, however the relationship between them is not strong as Nadia says it was “just a fling”.
Nadia explains that the majority of the people in Alicedale cannot find work.

“We can’t get jobs, so every day people drink, the whole week they drink.”

There is clearly a need for sustainable projects in Alicedale and the community needs to work together and help each other in order to build a sustainable future for the town.
Education and the needs of the youth also need to be a top priority. Schools in Alicedale should be able to provide these young mothers with the opportunity to continue their education.
Although Nadia dreams of the day when she can return to school and eventually find a better job, she feels there is little way out of her situation. Despite her innocence, Nadia shows a tremendous amount of courage and maturity and is doing the best she can in her situation.

“I hope she doesn’t make the same mistakes that I made, I hope she doesn’t fall pregnant before she is ready,” says Nadia about Nuzzley.

A blind man's house

As Madoda places his hands on the box containing a swarm of bees, I start to panic. Even though I’m covered head to toe in a bee suit, I am afraid of being stung but fear more for him because he doesn’t care to wear protection over his face.

He remains calm and confident in what he is doing, slowly shuffling his hands across the box, feeling for the latch and then opening it. A bee lands on his arm but he does not panic as he reaches inside.

At fourteen years old Madoda, now 37, went completely blind. As a child he had reoccurring problems with his eyes, until he fell sick and eventually lost his eye sight all together. Despite this, Madoda enjoys an active lifestyle and is a supportive father to his four children.

At his home in Joza, Grahamstown he is the sole provider for his four children and his girlfriend Miriam. Miriam has struggled to keep a stable job and is currently unemployed. Madoda is also unemployed and struggles to support his family on his monthly disability grant of R970 per month. Their two eldest children go to Numpumelelo School on as little as R280 a month.

Madoda is a client at the Grahamstown and District Relief Association (Gadra). Gadra’s aim is to eradicate poverty in the Grahamstown community, through counselling, training and the development of sustainable projects.

The bee keeping project was developed by Gadra in partnership with the Makana Meadery. Its goal is to give blind people the opportunity to learn bee keeping skills and in turn generate an income from the honey, which will improve the quality of their lives.

Madoda was one out of six trainees who took part in the project and is now equipped with efficient bee keeping skills which he can use to generate an additional income.

Dr Garth Cambray, director of the Makana Meadery explains that the blind tend to be calmer around a swarm of bees than sighted people and this is why they make proficient bee keepers.

Cambray understands the desperate need for sustainable projects in Grahamstown and believes the bee keeping project will continue to be a success. Gadra seeks to develop sustainable projects that will change the lives of people in the Grahamstown community, especially in the township where poverty is rife.

Like Madoda, most of the blind people at Gadra are unemployed and their disability grant is the main source of income for their family. According to Social Investment Exchange (sasix), less than 3% of blind people are employed in South Africa. Lack of opportunities to learn skills and lack of training, results in a low self-esteem and social isolation amongst the blind.

Madoda has learnt how to read Braille, plays musical instruments, bowls and has acquired some computer skills. He is confident in himself and his abilities.

Each day of the week at Gadra is assigned a different activity. Many of the skills, he was taught by his mentor Pumi Poro, one of the co-ordinators at Gadra. Gadra strives to uplift members in the Grahamstown community and has given hope and confidence to Madoda and many others. .

Madoda flashes me a smile and calls me over to the box housing the bees. I hesitantly look inside. He laughs at me, as though he can see the nervous expression on my face and then points at the honey.