Life in Tent City

City Hall is in darkness, the double doors are locked and the cleaners are sweeping the steps, only the dozen green portable toilets stand as testament to the people who lived there for two weeks. In  Spilsbury Street a dreadlocked Mozambiquan who has not returned to his homeland paces up and down the wide sidewalk, never venturing too far from his possessions which are a large, red, square zipper bag with a teddy bear silskreened on the front, a heap of dusty grey and brown blankets and a bundle of brand new socks still stuck together. They are heaped on one of the two columns that regally define the small space that he occupies. He wears a gold hoop in his left ear and he chews on a matchstick. His black faux leather trousers and his red fleece hoodie may be too hot in the midday heat but they’ll no doubt be insufficient against the cold, wet weather that is forecast.

At Rand Airport we are pleased to see that the municipal services have pitched up en-masse, not so pleased to see that some of their employees are sitting on their backsides staring malevolently at the new residents. The queue that snakes around the Red Cross table is four people deep and consists mainly of men. The grass that was so worrying yesterday is still dry, but trampled down somewhat from all the activity. The same volunteers smile their welcome, it is humbling that they never seem worn down by their plight. They are putting up tentsand there is no time for idleness or moaning; their positive attitude is an inspiration.

Entrepeneurs have sprung up, on offer are the skinniest fish imaginable; red, pink and orange sweeties and square biscuits are sold singly. There are three hundred tents numbered in black koki pen next to their doorways and there are fifty toilets. This services three thousand people. Less than fifty metres from the camp is the Germiston Lake yet there is not a single tap for fresh water. There are no lights yet. Erasmus ponders the difficulties and dangers of living in darkness, it is agreed that the school children must be given fire-drill first thing in the morning.

Joseph is the Germiston City Hall representative and Shepherd is the Primrose representative. There is a mixed air of bewilderment, relief and dissatisfaction. The Malawian contingent surrounds Mark soon after our arrival. Again Mark makes the calls to their High Commissioner and his Deputy, again the calls are routed to voicemail. The Malawians lips quiver as they tell of their disgust and disappointment in their government. Their leader Said is in hospital; their feeling of abandonment is palpable.

As we leave Armand approaches us, clutching a pink plastic packet with his belongings – identification papers and certificates. He returned to work today and his employer was eager to ask him about his experience.

“Did they give you a house?” He asked.

Armand confirmed he is living in a tent with nine other men.

“Did they give you blankets?

Armand confirmed that blankets were handed out.

“Did they give you food?”

Armand confirmed that he had received meals.

His employer grabbed him around the neck and throttled him while his fellow workers pulled his uniform off.

“If you get all that then you don’t need a job, come fetch your money on Friday.”

Hurt and insulted Armand asked about his UIF card.

“Your UIF money bought you all that food, you’re not getting another cent,” his employer said.

The police station wouldn’t allow Armand to lay a charge of assault and referred him to the Labour Court, they told him he must go to the CCMA.

He sighed and pointed to a tent behind him.

“I live there at number 230, please if you can help me I am a woodwork finisher,” he said.

The Powers That Be

When the crowds arrived at Germiston City Hall on Sunday night, Joseph took charge. Realising that the multitudes would swell to chaos, he immediately mobilised some of his fellow refugees and they formed themselves into a task team. They did not wait for officialdom to direct them; they took their instructions from the needs of the displaced.

Since then other people have arrived and have manoeuvred themselves into positions. It’s fascinating to watch how the possibility of power motivates some people. An official who isn’t a councillor introduces himself as such. Labelled logistic convenors seem to be directing food in a direction that leads to neither the kitchen nor the mouths of the displaced. Group after group of the migrants approach me to complain about the food that is disappearing in front of their eyes. As I show The Times photographer around we both witness a food marshall packing his suitcase full of new clothes and food. I suggest to one of the convenors that they rotate their marshalls daily, at least that way everyone will get a chance to pilfer.

It is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain a neutral stance and I think it’s dangerous to do so; to shrug one’s shoulders is tantamount to condoning pilfering and if theft is allowed, what else can opportunists get away with?

Occasionally a metropolitan policeman is noticed and in a week I’ve seen one employee of the South African Police Service. When we approached the police to assist us when our feeding station outside the police station was swarmed on Tuesday evening, we got a blank stare. A municipal councillor arrives daily with food, hooting loudly even though she’s been asked not to; loud noises seem to irritate the already frazzled nerves of the displaced. Another councillor hands out his business card to anyone who is working hard.

Since both government and NGO’s (except the Red Cross) seemed to be absent at the Germiston City Hall we phoned and emailed the groups we thought might be best-placed to offer assistance. The spokesperson for the UN High Commission for Refugees initially wasn’t aware of what crisis we were referring to, but then when he was brought up to speed he wasn’t sure what the High Commission was going to do. The International Organisation for Migration’s South African representative informed us that they only assist with people trafficking, that repatriation no longer fell within the ambit of their services even though their website still says that the “IOM is committed to the principle that humane and orderly migration benefits migrants and society.” US Aid only helps with development aid. Oxfam have an auto-response email reply as does The Gates Foundation who really seem bent on making their stamp on the world by making it IT literate. Sir Bob Geldof didn’t reply.

The Malawian and Zimbabwean Embassies were responsive to the calls to send a representative to meet with their displaced people at the Germiston City Hall. The South African Foreign Affairs Desk was helpful in supplying telephone numbers for the various embassies and consulates. The DRC Embassy answered their phone after normal business hours and was eager to reassure their nationals, they have promised to send an official to consult with them over the weekend. The Norwegian Embassy were also available after hours and seemed willing to help but only at national government level. They suggested they might consider donating to the International Red Cross but probably wouldn’t consider the smaller local needy groups. Our aim was to try to get logistical support to repatriate some of the smaller groups whose countries don’t have the money to send home their nationals. We also need assistance for those foreigners who don’t want to leave.

In times of need the local community structures should be the first to respond. The Gauteng Health Pathology and Forensics car speeds up and down Lambert Street at least twice a day, fully aware of the displaced spilling off the sidewalks but the driver makes no attempt to slow down. I approach the local high school to take in two matric pupils temporarily as they are still attending school in Boksburg and they are being threatened by fellow taxi passengers en-route. Initially the principal will not even talk to me, but when he finally agrees to talk to my husband our request becomes a tangle of red-tape and we feel the blast from the door firmly shut in our faces. I resolve to start my own school.

The Germiston Cleansing Department have done an excellent job of cleaning up the streets around the Germiston City Hall and the bins are emptied on a regular basis. The Red Ants have been deployed as the quasi-security force and diplomacy doesn’t seem to be a pre-requisite for the job, perhaps the SAPS student constables might have been a more diplomatic choice.

The local city councillor slaps his business card in my hand and I ask him to organise schools for the many children. I smile because Mark says “Honey brings the Money.” The councillor winces and throws out the word ‘protocol’ in his feeble response. “There’s a meeting at 2,” he says. “I don’t do meetings,” I shoot back. I get up on the stage and I ask Sharon to make a request for teachers. In less than five minutes I have ten teachers from pre-primary to university level, we have formed a committee with a co-ordinator and he will meet with parents tomorrow to get our school up and running on Monday. As I leave our make-shift classroom a pastor approaches me. “There’s a meeting for stakeholders on Monday at 2, we’ve just had a meeting to organise it,” she says. “I’m not a stakeholder,” I say. “You are, you are,” she insists. “I don’t do meetings,” I say, “I only do whatever these people ask me to do, that’s what I’m here for.” I dial friends and tell them what our new school will need.

The paramedic brothers set up a medical station and have been working non-stop since Sunday; they have treated hundreds of patients. Their relief and delight at receiving donations of large gloves and other necessary medical supplies was uplifting.

Just after dinnertime the phone rings and Joseph says, “Thank you, the Jewish Board of Deputies have delivered the extra toilets and the gas stoves.” It’s amazing how it didn’t take a meeting to organise these essential items, just a phone call asking for help.

Our thanks today goes to: Improvon, Jewish Board of Deputies, Gifts of the Givers, Colliers, two ladies in the white car who come every day, Roger and Michelle from The Blue Door, Sanitech, Scaw Metals, Minenza, Methodist Church parishioners, Natalie, and the Councillor from Joburg who hoots. Your constant donations keep the displaced hopeful, God bless you all.