Jacob Koen can't stop smiling when he looks at his new home in Elandspoort, west of Pretoria: "I have never lived in a home before." He looks at his worn green ID book and searches for his date of birth. "And I am 60 now, so that is a long time."
Until May 22 he lived under a sheet of tarpaulin, which he pitched wherever he stopped. A supermarket trolley – with a makeshift trailer – held his few possessions.
His wife was killed while they slept near Krugersdorp, and he still has the scar above his lip from the attack. "I don't want to go back to that anymore, and now Mr Zuma has made sure I don't have to," he says.
The trolley is now parked at the back of his new house, with a mongrel tied to it. The back of his neighbour's house creates a confined space where its bark echoes across the new housing estate.
His other security comes from an alarm company. "I have fought too much in my life. I am old now, so they can fight my fights for me."
On this warm Tuesday morning, he is excited that President Jacob Zuma is coming to his house in Danville for Mandela Day. There isn't a single crease on his couch: "This is Zuma's bench. He will sit here when he visits."
In preparation, he rakes the red earth outside the house. When the builders have gone, he plans a lawn and maybe a pathway from his front door to the tar road.
Permanent accommodation
There is a solar panel on the roof for hot water, and he has just taken delivery of a black dustbin. Services here are good and the houses are well built, he says.
Koen shares the two-bedroom house (with a bathroom and living room) with his fiancé and brother-in-law, who joined them while he was getting chemotherapy. His brother-in-law supplied all the furniture in the house because the two came with so little.
Koen lived in Bethlehem for a while, a settlement of poor white people a few kilometres away. People there live in Wendy houses. Zuma visited in 2008 and said he was "shocked" and "surprised" to find poor white people. "All this time I did not realise a section [of the population] existed that could be referred to as poor whites," he said.
Zuma returned in 2010 and promised to help the community and to find them permanent accommodation.
On Thursday, Zuma came to see the product of that promise. A whole new community has been built in Elandspoort, an extension of Danville, with 110 out of 407 houses completed.
Fifteen families from Bethlehem have been moved there, along with people from all over Pretoria, to create a multiracial community. A handful of these were officially handed over by the president, who was followed by photojournalists and television crews. But the media were not allowed into the houses because Zuma wanted to talk to the new owners in private.
Community members get their chance to talk as he walks between houses. At the corner of one house, a group of white women get their cellphone cameras ready for a snap of the president. "We just want to touch him and see he is real," they say.
Planned route
A woman asks if he is "Mr Zuma", and he smiles and gives her a big hug, both their faces exploding into giant smiles. "You look just like Mandela," she says. "I can't believe this."
Zuma then walks past Anton van Jaarsveld's house. Van Jaarsveld took his son out of school just to see "our president". He also lived in Bethlehem, and cannot stop talking about his new house. He already has plans for new shelves and security bars on the windows. But crime is not a problem.
Van Jaarsveld's only complaint is one house in the neighbourhood where nine people have been crammed into its three rooms. They come and take people's food and bully his son. "He is a good boy and does not swear, so they do not like him," he says.
"When we have been here for longer and have fences and know each other better, we will be able to sort this out," he said. For now, the community is still new.
Zuma's second-last stop is Koen's house. The president does not sit on the couch, and prefers to stand and chat with the family. He then gives Johann Cloete – Koen's brother-in-law – a new ID book. Cloete has never had an ID, and could not get his disability grant. Koen offers him tea, but Zuma says he has too many residents to visit. But he will be back for a cup, he promises.
At the end, Zuma diverts from the planned route – creating panic among his guards – and climbs on to the sound truck to talk to the few hundred people gathered there. This is the most homogenous public crowd he has ever seen, he says.
"I always feel very happy here because your problems are genuine and people are not afraid to say they need a house."
He talks about the day, and promises to come back. He owes Koen a cup of tea, and is bringing a bigger bath for a woman who said she cannot fit into hers.
The only politicking comes after Zuma is whisked away to another meeting. Gauteng Premier Nomvula Mokonyane takes the microphone and chants: "Viva ANC government, Viva." The music is turned up and the party starts.
Liggiehuis
The streets of the older Danville neighbourhood look like many other lower-middle-class areas in Pretoria. Tall trees line the wide roads and the houses are all large, nestled in yards with neat lawns. But in the middle of the day, there are people sitting or walking around – the houses look good but the poverty is visible.
To help hungry children, Brenda van der Merwe converts her house into a Christmas tree for the festive season. The money raised by people visiting then goes to buy presents.
"We supply thousands of children and families with something they would never have during the festive season," she says.
Along with the presents and food, children can pose with Santa Claus for photos. "These are the things children really want and need when they are young, but when you have so little, it is hard to give it to them. We want to help with that," she says.
In her first year, she used her own money to buy sweets and gifts for 200 children. The project has grown to include people from the surrounding communities. Last year, nearly 12 000 children received sweets and gifts, and 1?000 families got food parcels. "Some people are good at hiding their suffering, but we are here to help everyone," she says.