‘Braknaars’ of Sourvomit
Sickened by Cape Town’s disrespectful tourists, ever-increasing living costs, its daily whitening and a coloured populace Americanised into clones, Zebulon Dread moved to the unknown
The unknown is Afrikaans, white Swellendam, 230-odd kilometres from Cape Town, and its twin, coloured Suurbraak 20km away. There I squat on private land amid the mountainous terrain of the Overberg in a wooden wendy house with no electricity, a river for running water and a long-drop for all my vegetarian delights.
Swellendam is rumoured to be the third- oldest town in South Africa. As old sometimes implies an inherent state of somnambulism, Swellendam attracts geriatric, mostly German, tourists who flock to see the old Drostdy museum and other buildings commemorating Boer history.
Most of the people from across the N2 and the railway line in coloured Railton laughed derisively when asked about the benefits they get from tourism.
Ta Sofia, a bellicose gap-toothed woman put it succinctly when she said: “Ag, that’s just white people’s crap. Who else has so much time to waste? A person would swear they’ve got nothing better to do with their time. Look at me, I have to work my arse off for a piece of meat for my pot. Sies, ga!”
The town is dotted with bed-and-breakfasts, all white-owned, catering mainly to a white market. The tourist end of town hardly sees a black face, except for the labourers and maids who eke out a living on the miserable wages that are endemic of the entire Overberg region.
The Swellendam Gazette, a local community newspaper, rarely reflects the opinions or stories of the non-white population, except for legal notification of sales in execution.
The National Party is firmly in control of the town and Railton does not expect much change in the near future.
Suurbraak, in one translation, could be Sourvomit. The name suits it: alcoholism is endemic to the whole Overberg region and is exacerbated by cheap wine labels with names like “Sweetheart” and “Papsak”.
Leon Rosser leases Suurbraak’s local supermarket, the only legal outlet for wine sales. White and Afrikaans, he arrived five years ago against the advice of family and peers, who were convinced that coloured Suurbraak would never accept him. Being a humanist, somewhat of an idealist and a businessperson, his business thrives, although most of it is on credit.
Owing to the seasonal labour on the many farms dotting the town, Suurbraak essentially has a credit-based economy. Rosser, after losing much owing to non- payment, has invented a budgeting system in which he tries to instil a culture of responsible debt by helping people to see what they can really afford.
He is philosophical and upbeat as he prepares his lease for another five years. Many others who have tried their hands at business in the community have failed.
Clustered around the hills from onderdorp (agri-based), middedorp (middle class) and die plaat (lower echelons) are around 5 000 people of varying ages. The youth do not see much of a future for themselves and there is an ever-increasing exodus to Cape Town.
The farmers use Suurbraak as a convenient labour market. The average wage is R125 per week. For women, it drops down to anything from R70 to R90.
(Master) Henri Barry owns the sprawling Lismore farm adjacent to the Suurbraak border. His workers – most of whom did not want to be named for fear of reprisals – find it immensely difficult to feed, clothe and educate families on their wages. Work begins at 7am and ends around 5.30pm.
Many farmworkers in the area site their lack of unity as the cause of their oppression. The policy of divide and rule is employed by farmers who favour some workers with handouts of mealie meal and meat to break discontent, so some workers, mindful of their stomachs, will side with the farmer.
Unionising has been attempted by organisations from as far afield as the Karoo, but saamstaan (standing together) is not a policy the workers believe in. Foremen, some of whom earn R150 a week, generally look out for themselves and do not act as shop stewards against the system.
Workers living on the farmers’ land are also susceptible to evictions and prone to intimidation because they have nowhere else to go, nor do they possess the means to travel. This, coupled with many other fears, keeps them bound to a network of slavery that has long been outlawed by the government.
Workers at Monteith Trust, a farm not far from Barry’s Lismore, humorously relate the behaviour of “Baas” Giepie, a farm manager, who, after morning prayer, admonishes everyone for “fokken” standing around.
A worker there said: “We must first pray, then all hell breaks loose, because then you get chased like the devil. The bosses use prayer to enslave us. I just pretend that I’m praying, but all the time I’m thinking about killing him.”
One of the sacrifices of a life of toil is the loss of self respect and the absence of child care. Captain Crimley, Suurbraak’s local police chief, bears witness to the type of social ills that beset Suurbraak.
“When a person has no self-esteem, a low self-image and a general lack of seeing the future, one deals with a situation that often leads to many abuses, such as domestic violence, alcohol abuse and overall frustration that never seems to go away.
“This attitude is transported into the whole community like a communicable disease and before long you have to deal with similar problems from a growing, disenchanted, disenfranchised and rebellious youth who further erode family values because they have grown up to see their parents and elders cowed. The encroachment of American values and a lack of role models leads to situations that are not easy to handle.”
A case in point is the attempted suicide of a 14-year-old girl in January who was upset because she had to wear her sister’s hand- me-down uniform to school: she drank her grandmother’s heart tablets.
The “label culture” of teenagers is prevalent here, and wearing the right stuff increases their esteem among their peers.
The Suurbraak police station shuts at 5pm each day. But recently the theft of its television and video machine had the entire community amused for days. After in-depth investigation, it transpired that a problem youth who had earlier been released on charges of bicycle theft broke in to the police station for revenge.
The TV and video machine were stolen from him by other youths when he got drunk after the robbery, and police eventually traced them to a house in Ashton, about 70km away.
The churches do little to heal the social ills in Suurbraak, Crimley said. They are divided, sectarian and only interested in their own flock.
Titanic Titus, previous mayor and general shopkeeper, puts it succinctly when he muses about the many preachers, dogmatists and self-help therapists who arrive with a flourish only to be slowly broken down by an apathetic community ready and willing to receive anything as long as they are not required to do too much.
“Before anyone can do anything in this village they must first bring in a psychiatrist, because as long as the people remain spiritually damaged, no one will achieve much success,” Titus said.
Titus managed to persuade the Cape authorities to release funds for electricity, and borrowed money for a community hall.
However, he was not very good at keeping records and rumours abound about misappropriation of funds, selling off of land and other tales of rural intrigue. To get to the bottom of it requires a mammoth investigation, for which no one has the energy nor the inclination.
The new mayor is a member of the African National Congress. Asked what he thought was the most serious problem in Suurbraak, he cited politics.
Bertram Beukes is a local schoolteacher, rugby trainer, member of the police forum, former member of the now defunct and debt- ridden Suurbraak Community Organisation and leader of the civic association.
The community did not vote for him – he was installed in his position by the local council. To this day, three years down the line, the community is still asking how he became mayor, even after much explanation by his council.
The ANC was elected unopposed in the local election, and the elected members could vote in their mayor. But because jobs are so scarce in Suurbraak, many voters believed the unemployed should have been interviewed for the position of mayor.
Beukes says he wishes for a situation where he could have gauged his real support, but things being as they are, he is legitimately in place and people will have to wait for the next election to make their feelings known.
But he is not the demon many of the fence- sitters label him. His only fault could be that he is not consultative enough, but he says this merely stems from the fact that sometimes things have to be done and someone has to initiate them.
Suurbraak is dependent on the Overberg District Council for funding, which consists mostly of NP members, so Beukes does not get much support from them.
Many of Suurbraak’s proposals are not given half as much attention as the often whimsical requests coming from NP-ruled towns. He quotes the example of an application for a water affairs matter, for which they requested R60 000, the absolute minimum required. They received R40 000, whereas he has often seen other councils getting money for far less relevant matters.
“Apartheid in the Overberg has had no reason to manoeuvre itself underground, as it lives alive, well and thriving. Because the ‘Brak’ is still carried by central state funds, capital projects are still a priority and thus smaller non-essentials like the possibility of toilet facilities and recreational amenities at the swimming holes in the river, have to be pushed on to the backburner,” Beukes said.
“It is a national problem and not confined only to Suurbraak. Some light has emerged this year with the granting of R380 000 from social services for which we are grateful as it offers the chance to involve the youth in a scheme centred around their upliftment.”
The problem facing them is what to do when the funds run out and whether whatever is initiated will be maintained. The history of Suurbraak denotes otherwise. The local community-owned creche just had their budget slashed from R4 000 per month to R1 200, and they have to pay four employees, feed the children and maintain the institution.
They have decided not to feed the children any more and the burden will now fall on an already depleted workforce not even earning a minimum wage. More children will eventually be kept home as parents will not be able to afford increased fees, and the cycle of decimation started under apartheid will continue.
Above the hills lies the newly built irrigation dam funded by different departments to facilitate farming on the many smallholdings along the river. Most of the R1,5-million went to the white contractors who left behind them a fair level of ecological devastation.
The dam is leaking, causing further damage because underground water is filtering through a large area, and one of the pipes has burst, remaining unfixed for more than a month while precious water shoots into the air.
Since its inception, hardly 10 people have made use of the new scheme, as the water affairs sub-committee decides on how the project will pay for the electricity generated by the very expensive pump station plonked in the middle of nowhere without any environmental impact assessment.
To crown it all, mandrax is available in the town and there are many who can pay for the luxury of smoking sleeping tablets at prices ranging between R40 and R50. The shebeen culture is evident everywhere and a recent march by the police forum has not yielded results as the need to escape from the harsh realities overshadows any form of reason.
Every Sunday at 6am a fanatical evangelist on the hill screams his admonishments through a sound system, imploring the people to bekeer (convert) for the the end is nigh. Many wish for an end to his disturbing tirades, especially as on Sunday mornings the hangover hurts.
The summer fruit season is nearing its end and many of the women working at Langeberg know that the “wealthy” months are near an end and winter austerities draw closer. At least the double incomes alleviated their debts and allowed some women an easier sleep while they earned their own money, buying temporary independence from a patriarchal society.
Titus had the last words when he said: “The happiness and joys of Suurbraak are far too often associated with external stimuli, capital culture of acquisition and how much money one has. The challenge is whether they can rise above this and begin to appreciate the wonderful independence, peace, quiet and environmental jewel in their midst, rather than looking beyond for the unattainable. Maybe then the people can save themselves.”
On the other side of the river, retired white matriarch and avowed reborn Christian Annemarie Mitchell resides with her husband. She sees herself at the forefront of the tourism bandwagon that believes it can bring upliftment, work and opportunities to a village with hardly a place for a pig to piss in.
She is organising workshops, and when asked whether she had obtained consensus from the community she became apoplectic with rage, referring to the “Braknaars” as these people who don’t want to do anything for themselves. She said that she really loved these people and wanted to do something for them by stopping the tourists who were just passing by and making sure that they took notice of Suurbraak.
I fear that Suurbraak might just end up like Swellendam, with a bunch of European geriatrics looking at another coloured zoo with nothing to do.
Still, Suurbraak lies nestled in its ancient lore and lifestyle, quite alive in a waiting-to-exhale sort of way. Aluta continua!