I came to South Africa with a limited idea of what a township might be. People living in shacks, I thought. Of course that’s what a township is. But that’s the most basic definition of what a township could be. There is a sense of removal from those people you see in pictures, or read about – the people who live in somewhere far away in a shack.
My first memory of Cape Town is seeing a township along the left side of the highway as we drove away from the airport. I later learned that it was Khayelitsha, one of the biggest townships in South Africa. I’ll never forget the cars speeding past the homes, the corrugated iron, long rusted from wear, that made up the roofs and the sides; the blue fabric tarps; the trash littering the ground, intertwined with the metal of the fences.
This past week, I drove past Khayelitsha again, this time headed east. I drove and Khayelitsha followed me. Hills covered with shacks, uneven but sturdy in their construction. From the highway, it seems as if there’s no organization. They sit crookedly on the hills, not uniform in any way. I couldn’t believe immensity of it. It spread around me, almost endless.
I hadn’t imagined the townships to be so very human. This is something that perhaps everyone visiting a township or reading about them should keep it mind – the humanity. The people in townships are people. They’re not there by choice (unless they are), but they are making do with the materials that they have been given. They’re living their lives, just like you or me.
This past weekend a tourist couple was hijacked in Gugulethu and the wife was found dead in Khayelitsha. This incident of violence has shocked the world and will spread fear about the safety of townships. Perhaps this story can serve as a precaution to people wishing to venture into the townships to get a perspective on life there, but I also think it should serve as a reminder. The townships are not tourist attractions – they shouldn’t be treated as zoos. The people there are not there to be gawked at; they don’t stand around waiting for tourists to snap pictures of them. They don't exist to live forever in photo albums of the fortunate.
Townships aren’t far away. They’re closer than you’d ever think. They’re the reality that many South Africans face every day. But they’re also a forgotten segment of society. I was on a train last weekend riding next to a middle-aged white couple. We were speaking about our volunteer work with Projects Abroad, and the fact that we work in townships came up. My younger brother spoke of the violence that he sees everyday, about the children he loves so much, about the poverty there, and the woman replied that it’s a shame that there are so many social problem in the townships and reminded us that those impressions are not really South Africa.
I was offended. Social problems aren’t part of the REAL South Africa? The social problems shouldn’t be relegated to land not occupied by whites. The social problems affecting the townships are social problems that affect South Africa. South Africa, like any other country on this earth, has social problems. There are poverty, crime, corruption, education and health issues everywhere. This is a universal problem – the problem of problems. They exist. There is no perfect society – at this point in time, it seems impossible that one might ever exist. But the townships should not be left to cope without the unified assistance of their countrymen. They should not be abandoned just because there is no chance. There is always a chance.
I spent a month working in Vrygrond, a township in the Southern Suburbs of Cape Town. While I was there, I spent quite a bit of time walking through it. My terrible sense of direction would have found me lost and wandering, but my colleagues wouldn’t let me walk alone, and I was grateful for their guidance and their willingness to share their experiences with me. While I was there, I became friends with the people I worked with. We shared inside jokes, we laughed, we worked.
Even though there are problems including poverty, HIV/AIDS, under-education, and crime, a sense of hope lives in these communities. There is such a sense of triumph, of accomplishment and expectations; it’s contagious. Family trumps all and even though things are sometimes slow moving, there is an overwhelming sense of future for the people there.
The townships have a sense of community unlike any other I’ve experienced while in Cape Town. I have enjoyed the hospitality of a woman who let me come into her home to conduct interviews, who made me tea in her tiny kitchen, who let me carry her children around. This was no woman begging for handouts, this was a proud and dignified mother, an intelligent teacher, a strong community leader.
She spoke of her neighborhood nostalgically - speaking of its birth and growth and the momentous occasion a couple of years ago when they finally got electricity. She told me that even though some people are ashamed to come from such informal settlements, she has a sense of pride about her home. I agree; her home is lovely, clean and well kept, something that people assume might not be possible in a township – which is a lie that helps perpetuate the idea that people coming from townships are dirty and unclean. Her home is just that, a home. It's lived in and well-loved by the family who keep it.
She told me that her sister always tells people about the view from her house, which is a three-room shack on the edge of a township. I went to the edge of her property and looked. Behind me were small shacks and other crudely constructed houses, electricity connected from the tall wooden poles scattered almost randomly throughout, but in front of me spread the nature reserve, all white sand and green brush and blue sky. Above me hung plastic flags representing different countries, fluttering colors against the sky.
I felt like I too was at home.
http://www.mytripblog.org/pg/blog/kbarry/read/17450/a-township-perspective
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