Neil Fraser
February 16, 2004
LAST Friday, 6 February 2004, was a significant day in the history of the city, appropriately so in this the Decade of Democracy. Whilst it is to be overshadowed by other events that take place on Constitution Hill, it was significant in that it was the day that the Constitutional Judges moved into the new Constitutional Court building.
Future dates of significance will be later this month when the court sits in session for the first time, the official opening on 22 March and then every single day when a judgement is handed down. Judgements that will protect the Constitution of South Africa, judgements that will concretise issues for future generations.
Constitution Hill is one of the largest of the inner city regeneration projects currently in progress. It is also the most symbolic, in fact probably the most symbolic project in South Africa, and, I think, one of the most exciting.
The new buildings have and will be extensively covered by technical and other journals so I don't intend to cover them here. (An excellent review was provided in the November/December 2003 edition of Urban Green File.)
Suffice it to record that they comprise the Entrance Foyer and Court Chamber, the Judges' Chambers - a series of three storey buildings attached to an administration wing that links the Court Chamber on the south to the Library on the north. The Library will be the largest constitutional library in the southern hemisphere housing some 350 000 volumes. Set in sensitively designed public and private space, the buildings not only reflect the values and ideals of our Constitution but are part of and provide a wonderful addition and stimulus to the whole inner city regeneration initiative.
The 'Hill' is situated between Braamfontein and Hillbrow covering an area of some 95 000 square metres. Its history is found in four ignominus institutions together representing the very antithesis of the new building that has been steadily taking shape amongst them over these past few years.
The Fort, the so-called Native Gaol, the Women's Gaol and the Awaiting Trial Block, buildings that collectively represent above all other things man's inhumanity to his fellow man.
With the exception of just a few years when it operated as a military establishment, the Fort was almost continuously used as a prison. It was a place of punishment, incarceration and human indignity. When the British subdued the city in 1900, Boer soldiers were imprisoned in the buildings.
A group of Cape Afrikaners who had fought on the side of the British were executed there. Its inmates included Mahatma Gandhi; anti-British Boers incarcerated during World War 1; the 1922 miner insurrectionists; two Nobel Peace Prize winners, Albert Luthuli and Nelson Mandela; the Treason trialists in the 1950s as well as the children who threw stones at the authorities in the 1976 Soweto uprising. Most were at the Fort only temporarily before being transferred to other places of incarceration.
Those who were kept there for longer were generally common criminals including murderers, rapists and burglars but the bulk were ordinary folk whose crimes related to the apartheid system. Failing to carry a pass, brewing beer or crossing the legislated sexual racial divide created by the infamous Immorality Act, all of these earned admittance.
The Women's Gaol was built in 1909 and imprisoned both black and white women - in different sections! Daisy de Melker, the only woman to be executed in South Africa, was held here prior to her execution in 1932. She had been found guilty of poisoning her son and both her husbands. Winnie Madikizela-Mandela and many other prominent activists were incarcerated here.
But again, the vast majority of the inmates were neither murderers nor political activists but ordinary people; ordinary women who were arrested because they had no passes or had been found brewing and/or selling beer. The latter, criminal offences because this was the prerogative of the State through their beer halls! Many women, with babies on their backs, were imprisoned here in the 1950s when, as a form of protest, they presented themselves voluntarily en masse to the police as pass offenders.
The third component of the prison complex is Sections 4 and 5, known as Number Four. 'Number Four' became a term which "symbolised both courage and fear, the cruelties and indignities of colonialism and apartheid, and of the prison system in general. From the very beginning of the Fort's history as a prison, white inmates were kept within the Fort whilst black inmates were kept outside its ramparts. In 1902 Section Four and Five of the prison replaced the Native Gaol built in 1893.
Number Four contained the general cells for black male prisoners where violent criminals, pass offenders and political prisoners were incarcerated side by side. At its extreme north are 24 punishment cells that held men who had committed an offence inside the prison - such as trying to escape. These cells also held men with infectious diseases like smallpox or with mental illnesses, or juveniles. The steel doors of the cells are covered in graffiti and contain an evocative record of the lives, fears and aspirations of the thousands of men who were held here over the decades."
The fourth building, now mostly demolished, was the notorious Awaiting Trial Block constructed in 1928. This was the only building that housed male and female, black and white, political and common. The 156 treason trialists of 1956 led by Nelson Mandela were held here for two weeks. Scores of activists were locked up here for three months during the 1960 State of Emergency and hundreds of teenagers after the Soweto uprising of 1976. All of the groups were incarcerated in special communal cells that, ironically, allowed political prisoners to meet and talk in ways that they could not do on the outside because of banning. In the Awaiting Trial Block's horribly overcrowded communal cells for common criminals, new inmates were inducted into the brutal life of prison. They were often robbed, attacked and even raped by members of the 'Numbers' gangs.
Of the four buildings, only the Awaiting Trial Block has had to make way for the Court and its public areas. However, four sections of the building, its central stairwells, have been retained, two of which have actually been built into the new Court buildings and two that remain freestanding in a public area to be known as Constitutional Square.
They will all be capped with illuminated towers that will serve as beacons and landmarks on the site. The retention of these sections of the Awaiting Trial Block in Constitutional Square provides a vivid contrast, from the oppression symbolised by the demolished building to a place of freedom where people can meet and gather freely.
What I find most exciting about the complex is the symbolism that is expressed in the buildings and in the many artworks it contains. The recognition and acceptance of the pain that the historic buildings represent and the transformation of that negative history into a powerful and positive force for the future is what preservation is all about.
The architects, OMM Design Workshop and Urban Solutions, have created something very special by retaining the built reminders of injustice and oppression and carefully placing the new buildings which signify freedom and hope amongst them.
There are many examples of the sensitivity with which this blending of old and new, good and bad has been treated. The facebricks that once formed the outer skin of the Awaiting Trial Block were all set aside during the demolition process and now form the steps and paving to the 'Great Africa Steps' that provides north/south access across the site between Section Four, what was, and the new court buildings, the hope for the future. But, even more symbolic, these facebricks also line the inside walls of the Court Chamber itself, a constant reminder to the Judges of the human indignity and tragedy that took place throughout the country in the past and the need to defend our country's young democracy for future generations.
The concrete beams above the glass entrance screens are 'engraved'' with the foundational words of the Bill of Rights; 'equality' 'freedom' and 'human dignity'. The words are cast into the concrete in the handwriting of each of the eleven Constitutional Court judges, each set of words in one of our eleven national languages. There is also a twelfth set symbolising our national concern for the disadvantaged - in Braille. The tenets of the Constitution set in concrete. Neat!
The entrance foyer to the Court Chamber is themed around trees, the raking columns reflecting the trunks and branches, delicate mosaic coverings portray the leaves whilst the slotted roof allows ever changing light patterns to move across the room and dapple the floor like a forest.
Why a tree? In early debates around the symbols of the new Constitution, the traditional western symbols of the scales of justice and the sombreness of legal buildings was rejected in favour of African iconography and lightness. What better symbol then than the community gathering below the shade-giving branches of a tree presenting, debating, listening and finally hearing the findings of their traditional or elected leaders.
A system that provided transparency and openness - anyone could listen or submit comment - and that also demanded the accountability of the leaders. In the Court Chamber great care has been paid to the juxtapositioning of judges and those dialoguing with them, thus the judges are positioned so that they have direct eye-contact with those leading 'evidence', no one is looked down on.
The judges are in touch with the reality of the world via a horizontal slit window that connects them to the outside and provides natural light. The wooden doors leading to the court building are carved with the words of the Bill of Rights but in the hand-wording of sign language, again expressing concern for those physically disadvantaged.
Because democracy demands that the real voice of the people is heard, there will be no amplification in the Court Chamber which has therefore required great attention to acoustics. The passage leading to each judges' chamber is fitted with a metal gate, each one individually designed as a reminder of metal prison cell gates.
The carpeting has been specially woven from designs by numerous artists and a public gallery will feature a collection of arts and crafts reflecting the diversity of our peoples.
The moveable metal sun screens to the gallery that run the full length of the building next to the Great Africa Steps were designed by architect and kinetic sculptor Lewis Levine and artist Patrick Rorke. The screen contains some 700 metal plates of which over 170 were finely engraved by Patrick Rorke. Each of these engravings represent images that Rorke conceived as a consequence of listening to the stories of ordinary people. He interviewed scores of people randomly chosen in the city streets - and conceived the images whilst they were recounting their personal histories to him. He found the process quite life-changing - people on the streets are no longer just a face to him but each represents an individual and very personal story. He glories in the building's interweaving of art and architecture pointing to the spectacular achievements produced by this intertwining of art and architecture at the peak periods of great bygone civilizations.
Ironically, literally in the shadow of Constitution Hill and its great symbolism and hope for the future, is another institution that continues to deal with the results of human perversion. Just to the west of the Constitution Hill site, separated from it by Joubert Street, is the Transvaal Memorial Hospital for Children.
Opened in 1923, it was the culmination of a project started some four years earlier by members of the Johannesburg Branch of the National Council of Women as a memorial to those who died in World War 1. The City Council donated the ground and funds for the construction of the building came from the private sector and various charitable organisations. Over the years the facilities have been extended but it was in the mid '80s that a special unit, The Teddy Bear Clinic, was established by Dr Lorna Jacklin.
Whilst it has been in existence for nearly twenty years, thousands of citizens probably drive past its gates every day and have no idea what great work it is doing. Whilst the penal institutions across the road closed in the mid 1980s bringing to an end one aspect of the bleakest chapters in the country's history, the Teddy Bear Clinic was just being established to deal with another dark side of human behaviour - the sexual abuse of children. The unit was started in spite of the denial by society at large that a need existed.
Recently the clinic has experienced an increased demand for its services which, whilst alarming in itself, is also seen by them as encouraging as it implies the breaking of this denial, the breaking of the silence over abuse. The number of cases it deals with is horrific. In 1999 they assisted 556 people, 376 being children. In 2002 they assisted 2689 children alone and in 2003, 5447 children and adults - in the first eleven months of the year!
The functions that the Teddy Bear Clinic provides are firstly medical - intake, medical assessments, case management and emotional support. The Clinic team comprises medical doctors, a nursing sister, volunteer counsellors and a management team. Secondly, therapeutic - the clinic employs a therapeutic manager to provide forensic assessments, play therapy and support. New initiatives that have developed from the unit are SPARC, the support programme for abuse reactive children, a youth justice initiative to divert young sex offenders (ages 7 to 14) away from the criminal justice system to a therapeutic programme.
Pre and post HIV test counselling for children who have been exposed to sexual violence, and social work assistance at Nthabiseng (Baragwanath) and the Zamakuhle Clinic in Soweto. Then, thirdly, a children's court support programme that provides children and parents with skills, emotional support and knowledge in preparation for their appearance in court. Finally, training. This is provided on an ongoing basis and is fundamental to outreach work and enabling the clinic to build capacity in the community.
I have only recently been made aware of the Teddy Bear Clinic and its work - I spoke last year at a TMI 80th Anniversary function and then was asked to speak about the Constitution Hill development at a Teddy Bear Clinic fund raising drive on Wednesday evening. They are desperately in need of funds to finance the ever-increasing demands made on them, just look back to the stats I quoted above. Their ultimate aim is to facilitate "the healing of a nation" through the "harnessing of South Africa's inherent resilience where there is an intrinsic respect for life in all its forms." A booklet that contains the background to their work also includes a typical story that must be replayed thousands of times in their work, I am not going to repeat the horror or the hope sections of the story but end with the healing section - "So here I am, I'm going to the Teddy Bear Clinic for counselling every week. I will go to court in three weeks time. Hopefully my father will be found guilty. Sometimes (in the present) I cry because I think about what my father did. He said that if I stay with my mother, my work will go down but now I am top 10 and my work is doing better. I never want to move away from my mother, step-dad, brother and sister. I am too happy here to be happy anywhere else."
If you can help contact Karen Bailey at 011- 481-5161/5118 or at hoadmin@ttbc.org.za regards.
