Cracks of hope in the North

Jan Gerber

The Northern Cape and North West are HOT. And dry. It’s a harsh part of the world.

And government isn’t making it much easier for these provinces' residents. Much like the elements, what passes for governance here is something that residents must endure, rather than something that helps them thrive.

Yet, many of the people we’ve met on this journey refuse to let their environment, and minimal support from government, keep them down.

One of the highlights of the trip so far has been the gardeners of Upington – a group of residents of the Rosedale neighbourhood took a look at their rubbish-strewn environment and decided to do something about it. The result is patches of inviting green oases between the corrugated sheet metal homes and orange-brown ground.

From the Northern Cape we made our way to the North West. In Vryburg, everyone we spoke to, when asked what gives them hope that things in their town could improve, referred to the recently built mall.

It reminded me of the PJ Harvey song Community of Hope, in which she describes a depressed part of Washington DC, and ends the song by repeating: “They’re gonna put a Walmart here. They’re gonna put a Walmart here.”

It’s telling that something as banal as a mall is a beacon of hope in Vryburg – a town once described as the "Texas of South Africa”, due to the thriving cattle industry.

From Vryburg to Mahikeng. To be honest, I haven’t fully wrapped my head around Mahikeng. As we entered, it looked like it could have a cool frontier town vibe. I was soon shaken out of that thought, literally, as the roads in Mahikeng are a bad joke.

Here we have a bustling town, the provincial capital, with no roads. Mahikeng has a lot of tourist potential. It has a rich history, and is on the way to Namibia and Botswana. How is it possible that the powers that be just simply neglect to maintain this infrastructure?

We were told of a “village boy” who comes into one of the neighbourhoods and fills the potholes with bricks and sand. Unfortunately, we could not track him down.

From Mahikeng, via Rustenburg, we made our way to Joburg.
I wasn’t sure what to expect from Joburg. When I visited the city in December 2022 for the ANC’s conference, I was shocked at how it went backwards from my previous visit (also for an ANC conference in 2017). Since December 2022, roads have exploded. People aren’t getting water.

However, none of the roads we travelled on have exploded, so far. But we ran into a spot of ridiculous, excruciating traffic on Saturday, due to traffic lights at a busy intersection not working.

But there is something about Joburg – a hard-to-define collective spirit, perhaps? – that gives me the feeling that it will rise again.

Getting spiritual in Mpumalanga and KZN

Jan Gerber

Our lodgings just outside Mkhondo, formerly Piet Retief, which we reached driving on a very dodgy gravel road, was, uhm… interesting.

There was a caged monkey, and let's leave it at that.

We left for the town early on Saturday morning – the day after Good Friday. The town was deathly quiet. The neighbourhood of Kempville's potholes has little road between them and nary a soul in sight.

On the side of the road, women were cooking traditional meals, like cow's head, in giant potjies.
We got weird vibes at a nearby strip mall. Very few people were around, and those who were didn't want to speak or have their pictures taken. Maybe it had something to do with the stripped cars in the parking lot?

The people who were out and about all seemed to be heading to a church service. Some of them were wearing green overcoats.

We visited the Ethandakukhanya township, where a religious ceremony of the eMphophomeni Temple-Unyazi LweZulu was taking place in an open patch of land. They were wearing white or light blue robes, men on one side and women on the other.

After the main ceremony, we were allowed to enter upon removing our shoes. While they were welcoming us to take photos, I still felt like an outsider (which I was, of course). Right next door, another church service of a different denomination was happening.

From Mkhondo on to Richards Bay

We had dinner at the Richards Bay Waterfront on Saturday evening in a place called Mojito's – regulars at Cape Town's Long Street a few years ago might remember the name.

As we entered, The Gambler was playing. As is their wont, Afrikaners were dancing – langarm. They soon invited some of the black patrons to join in, which they did. The playlist was what one could expect at a white wedding - Bryan Adams's Summer of '69, Jonny Clegg's Impi, and, of course, Mandoza's Nkalakatha. The DJ, by the way, was Indian.

We heard that ANC secretary-general Fikile Mbalula would attend a church service just outside Richards Bay on Sunday morning. The notice the ANC sent out said 08:00.
When we left shortly after 10:00, there was still no sign of Mbalula.

The service was in a massive tent on the sports field of a TVET college. Representatives of the ANC, EFF and IFP were in attendance. I thought when Karl Marx wrote "religion is the opium of the masses", he meant it as a critique, not as electioneering advice.

From Richards Bay to Durban

Driving through rural KwaZulu-Natal, the rolling green hills dotted with settlements, it's hard to believe that the tranquil atmosphere belies that the area is a hotbed for political killings.
This is perhaps why, when we got to Durban, most of the people we approached were very wary of talking on camera, and unlike the other places we visited, people didn't volunteer criticism of their political overlords.

I last visited Durban when I was four years old, so I don't have a recollection of it. Having pored over Zigzag surfing magazines as a teenager, I half expected Durban to be a cross between Hawaii's North Shore and Miami, with its own local flavour mixed in. The reality is far from that.
Durban should be an awesome place. It appears that it is politicians holding it back.

However, we got to experience another spiritual event: the Hare Krishna Festival of Chariots. On Monday evening, scores of people pulled three chariots across the promenade, one blue, another red, and the other green. The idea is that it symbolises that god's blessings are bestowed on everyone - you don't have to visit a place of worship to be blessed.
They usually hold it over Easter weekend because there are a lot of tourists in town, but this year, not so much.

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