January 18, 2002
By Thomas Thale
ASK almost any resident of Soweto's Diepkloof, and you'll be told that the neighbouring Mandelaville squatter camp was a squalid, overcrowded, nest of crime. Ask anyone who lived inside Mandelaville, and they'll tell you it was home.
For 12 years, the two communities lived side by side - hating one another. In January, the shantytown ceased to exist. While armed police looked on, men in red overalls pulled down the shacks. Children, oblivious to the drama around them, played happily in the streets as the adults, some carrying babies, piled their meagre belongings on to municipal trucks.
Those evicted gathered on the grounds of the nearby Diepkloof Hall to have their forms processed. Ahead lay a long trek out to Durban Roodepoort Deep mine west of Johannesburg, where new state-funded housing awaited them. No one complained of being late for work: most of the residents were unemployed and had lived here for years without visible means of subsistence. This alone had made them suspect in the eyes of neighbouring communities, who watched the evictions with undisguised relief.
Diepkloof residents have stronger roots in the city. They stay in brick houses and most of them are employed. Compared to their squatter neighbours, they live in relative comfort. They resent the presence of the outsiders, who retain strong ties to the countryside. To them, the removal of the Mandelaville eyesore has been long overdue. The squatters were blamed for the upsurge in crime, for the closure of a local clinic, for harbouring illegal immigrants and for a myriad other social problems. Diepkloof residents wanted the squatters moved out of their backyard, and where they went did not much matter.
The case of Mandelaville brings into sharp focus the challenges facing post-apartheid municipal authorities. The spectacle of an informal community being removed inevitably rekindles memories of the brutal forced removals carried out by the apartheid police. That a black government must resort to removals is an irony of our times. On the one hand, the state has, through its Reconstruction and Development Programme, prioritised housing the poor. On the other, the housing ministry clearly can't cope with the huge influx of migrants to the cities. Most of the evicted Mandelaville residents are first generation migrants from the Eastern Cape, the poorest province in the country. They have come to Johannesburg in search of the elusive gold.
The scrapping of apartheid legislation, such as the infamous "pass laws", made it possible for people from the countryside to move to the cities without much hindrance. However, this influx was neither planned nor regulated. There was no accommodation for people flocking into the cities. As a result, informal settlements mushroomed next to major cities, with communities erecting structures on any piece of land they could find.
Which is just what happened with Mandelaville. The settlement had been in existence since 1990, and attracted mainly Xhosa speaking migrants to Johannesburg. It was home to between 2 000 and 3 000 families. Residents, coming from the same area, retained strong bonds and "homeboy" networks. They lived in an urban space without being fully integrated into established urban communities. Their sense of community remained tribal.
Vuyisile Moedi, ward councillor for the area, said that Mandelaville was "squalid, congested, inaccessible to the authorities and used as a springboard for crime." Living conditions in Mandelaville were far from ideal. In this, it was no different to other informal settlements scattered around Johannesburg. After years of controversy, the fate of the settlement was finally sealed last year when the Metro Council, under pressure from Diepkloof residents, obtained a court order to evict the community.
The city council arranged alternative accommodation for the residents, buying disused hostels at Durban Deep mine, in Johannesburg's far west, for R3m. The mine hostels, previously home to migrant workers were closed in the early 1990s. The structures will now be used to shelter a new wave of economic migrants. The advantage of the hostels is that they are solid brick structures – the disadvantage is that they are located far from established urban communities and employment centres. Informal traders will not only have to travel long distances to buy their stock but will also have to get new clientele.
Not all the residents could be accommodated at Durban Deep, and some of the more prosperous families were moved to Sweet Waters near Ennerdale in Johannesburg South. According to Sizakele Nkosi, executive councillor for housing in Johannesburg, residents who went to Sweet Waters have bought their own land and will be given a R16 000 Government subsidy, while those resettled in Durban Deep will qualify for R18 000. Nkosi attributed residents' attempts to resist the move to "fear of the unknown". He said Durban Deep offers more space and better accommodation.
When the Mandelaville residents arrived for the first time at Durban Deep, they waited in another long queue at the office to be allocated their rooms. Two thousand families needed to be processed. Those who could not be accommodated in the hostels were given land for their shacks. The men in red overalls set to work again, this time helping to rebuild the shacks, but with brand new sheets of corrugated iron, supplied by the council. Tensions ran high, and members of the residents' committee were inundated with complaints from residents. Older women, for example, protested that they did not have the energy to rebuild their shacks and said they should be moved into the rooms instead. Councillor Nkosi said that rooms were earmarked for young people who did not have big families. Some residents complained that their belongings had been damaged or stolen in the ensuing confusion. "I've lost my clothes, TV and money," said Nomaphala Sifili. The main beneficiaries of this process were clearly informal traders who did a roaring business, selling grocery items to the new arrivals.
Other complaints related to the size of the rooms and plots. "I had a 3-roomed shack in Mandelaville, now I've been given a small plot to build on. Where will I put my belongings?" asked James Tishala.
Elphias Ntuli, a member of the Mandelaville executive committee lashed out at Diepkloof residents, accusing them of taking up accommodation meant for the squatters. "The rooms they are giving us are too small to accommodate families. They promised us running water and toilets but look! The showers are not partitioned and some toilets are not working," said Ntuli pointing at the gaping hole where the toilet bowl should be.
Councillor Nkosi said the rooms were not intended for people with families. He added: "I toured the place in December and the showers were partitioned and the toilets were working. They may have been vandalised." Nkosi said that despite these "teething problems," overall, the process of relocation was on track.
The biggest problem however appears to be schooling and transport costs. Residents complained that transport costs to the city would double as they must first travel to Roodepoort to board Joburg taxis. There are also no high schools in the area and learners will have to find schools in Dobsonville, which is about 15km away. While they lived in Mandelaville, their children attended schools in Diepkloof, within walking distance.
In spite of their problems, most residents agreed that conditions at Durban Deep were much better than in Mandelaville. Those who moved to Sweet Waters appeared to be relatively happy with their new surroundings. George Madolo, a spokesman for the Bhekaphambili (look ahead) group which moved to Sweet Waters said that they had pooled their resources and bought a plot. The area will be developed from the 6 February. Only residents who qualify for the R16 000 Government subsidy will be welcomed in Sweet Waters. "About 90 families have already settled at Sweet Waters and we expect more by the weekend," said Madolo. He expressed overall satisfaction with the resettlement process.
Mandelaville is just one example of a major headache for the authorities ... and it is a problem that will not easily go away.
