Housing for the All Africa Games is being built within sight of the Alexandra offices where refugees from factional battles sheltered in 1992 … and still live, writes Thokozani Mtshali
A young woman died of pneumonia in Alexandra this week. She had lived in the former muncipal offices, into which about 300 people have been crammed for almost eight years.
Residents this week did not know the young woman’s name, did not know whether she was a mother or what plans she had had for her future. What they knew was that she was not the first to die in the cold, draughty hall and that she would not be the last.
Ella Mokhondo (71) should be enjoying the golden years of her life. But she has been stuck in the municipal offices since she was forced out of her home by the outbreak of political violence between Inkatha Freedom Party-aligned KwaMadala hostel dwellers and African National Congress supporters of Alexandra.
Mokhondo lived in Beirut section with her grandchildren from 1971. But 20 years later, the area became a war zone, leaving scores dead and countless families torn apart. By mid 1991, it had escalated into a full-blown battleground. Life came to a standstill as gun battles raged day and night.
By March 1992, at least 560 terrified families had fled their homes and by 1994, Beruit was entirely occupied and controlled by IFP members.
Mokhondo was among those who fled with nothing but the clothes on her back for the relative safety of churches, community halls, schools and the neighbouring northern surburbs. “I hoped we would return to our homes in a week or a month,” she says.
Now, she faces the prospect of spending a decade in the offices. She, like many refugees, feel they have been let down by the government. When the All Africa Games village was built on a hill overlooking Alexandra, she hoped some of the units would be set aside for the displaced people, but was told the homes would be sold after the sport event.
Margeret Masikwameng (50), one of the first displacees to arrive at the municipal offices, asks why it has taken the government more than seven years to help them. “If there is no money to build houses for us, why in six months have they built more than 1 000 houses for the All Africa Games?”
Masikwameng lives in what used to be a boardroom with 12 families. Inside the dark hall, beer crates are arranged in a beehive format to make homes for the families.
“Men are not allowed to visit overnight. They have their own camps. Marriage doesn’t matter anymore,” explains Masikwameng. “We’ve got free divorce.”
She complains that family lives are being destroyed. “We can’t tell children to be inside the house before dusk – there is no house.”
Pauline Lemao shares similer concerns. Her son was in matric but dropped out of school weeks after their arrival at the camp. But death in the camps is her main worry. “I can’t remember how many people have died since we came here. In another block, all the occupants have died. Yesterday, a young girl died of pneumonia.”
Catherine Grant (48) lives in the old Alexandra Community Health Centre with more than 50 other displacees of Beirut. Grant was shot 16 times during a night attack in Beirut and is now permanently disabled.
She cries as she tells her story: “I had hoped that we would return to Beruit. I testified to Judge [Richard] Goldstone [head of the commission that investigated the violence in many townships] but since then nothing has happened for us. I never knew that democracy would come and find me in this place. But even this time I did vote because if we don’t, we might spoil something.”
Further down the road is MC Weiler Primary School, which has been a refugee camp since 1990. This is where Zakes Makwela (11), a grade two pupil at Rembrandt Primary School, and her mother Queen have lived for the past eight years. The only life the boy knows is one of poverty and homelessness.
He explains that none of his classmates at Rembrandt know he is homeless or that his father was killed during the war. “I’m glad that my mother sent me to a white school. My friends are convinced that I come from a rich family,” he said. About four to six families share in one class at the school.
Member of the Gauteng legislature Obed Bapela, also a resident of Alexandra, says: “Alexandra is unlike Thokoza [in the East Rand] where it was possible for the local council to evict illegal occupants. In Beirut, most houses were completely ransacked and demolished. More illegal occupants came in to erect shacks, and now Beruit is more of a squatter camp.
`There are other problems; some displacees, especially landowners, insist they want to go back to Beirut, including those who have been relocated but still claim ownership of their initial land.”
Sizakele Nkosi of the Eastern Metropolitan Council said that 270 of the 700 families displaced by the war have been relocated and another phase of relocating refugees will be completed by the end of the year. Nkosi believes all displacees may be housed by June next year.
But for Mokhondo the camp has ruined her life and help has come too late.
“My heart changed since my arrival here. If we happen to move out of here, please tell the other people to bring us pillows, curtains and blankets. What are we going to put in a new house? We have nothing.”Housing for the All Africa Games is being built within sight of the Alexandra offices where refugees from factional battles sheltered in 1992 … and still live, writes Thokozani Mtshali
A young woman died of pneumonia in Alexandra this week. She had lived in the former muncipal offices, into which about 300 people have been crammed for almost eight years.
Residents this week did not know the young woman’s name, did not know whether she was a mother or what plans she had had for her future. What they knew was that she was not the first to die in the cold, draughty hall and that she would not be the last.
Ella Mokhondo (71) should be enjoying the golden years of her life. But she has been stuck in the municipal offices since she was forced out of her home by the outbreak of political violence between Inkatha Freedom Party-aligned KwaMadala hostel dwellers and African National Congress supporters of Alexandra.
Mokhondo lived in Beirut section with her grandchildren from 1971. But 20 years later, the area became a war zone, leaving scores dead and countless families torn apart. By mid 1991, it had escalated into a full-blown battleground. Life came to a standstill as gun battles raged day and night.
By March 1992, at least 560 terrified families had fled their homes and by 1994, Beruit was entirely occupied and controlled by IFP members.
Mokhondo was among those who fled with nothing but the clothes on her back for the relative safety of churches, community halls, schools and the neighbouring northern surburbs. “I hoped we would return to our homes in a week or a month,” she says.
Now, she faces the prospect of spending a decade in the offices. She, like many refugees, feel they have been let down by the government. When the All Africa Games village was built on a hill overlooking Alexandra, she hoped some of the units would be set aside for the displaced people, but was told the homes would be sold after the sport event.
Margeret Masikwameng (50), one of the first displacees to arrive at the municipal offices, asks why it has taken the government more than seven years to help them. “If there is no money to build houses for us, why in six months have they built more than 1 000 houses for the All Africa Games?”
Masikwameng lives in what used to be a boardroom with 12 families. Inside the dark hall, beer crates are arranged in a beehive format to make homes for the families.
“Men are not allowed to visit overnight. They have their own camps. Marriage doesn’t matter anymore,” explains Masikwameng. “We’ve got free divorce.”
She complains that family lives are being destroyed. “We can’t tell children to be inside the house before dusk – there is no house.”
Pauline Lemao shares similer concerns. Her son was in matric but dropped out of school weeks after their arrival at the camp. But death in the camps is her main worry. “I can’t remember how many people have died since we came here. In another block, all the occupants have died. Yesterday, a young girl died of pneumonia.”
Catherine Grant (48) lives in the old Alexandra Community Health Centre with more than 50 other displacees of Beirut. Grant was shot 16 times during a night attack in Beirut and is now permanently disabled.
She cries as she tells her story: “I had hoped that we would return to Beruit. I testified to Judge [Richard] Goldstone [head of the commission that investigated the violence in many townships] but since then nothing has happened for us. I never knew that democracy would come and find me in this place. But even this time I did vote because if we don’t, we might spoil something.”
Further down the road is MC Weiler Primary School, which has been a refugee camp since 1990. This is where Zakes Makwela (11), a grade two pupil at Rembrandt Primary School, and her mother Queen have lived for the past eight years. The only life the boy knows is one of poverty and homelessness.
He explains that none of his classmates at Rembrandt know he is homeless or that his father was killed during the war. “I’m glad that my mother sent me to a white school. My friends are convinced that I come from a rich family,” he said. About four to six families share in one class at the school.
Member of the Gauteng legislature Obed Bapela, also a resident of Alexandra, says: “Alexandra is unlike Thokoza [in the East Rand] where it was possible for the local council to evict illegal occupants. In Beirut, most houses were completely ransacked and demolished. More illegal occupants came in to erect shacks, and now Beruit is more of a squatter camp.
`There are other problems; some displacees, especially landowners, insist they want to go back to Beirut, including those who have been relocated but still claim ownership of their initial land.”
Sizakele Nkosi of the Eastern Metropolitan Council said that 270 of the 700 families displaced by the war have been relocated and another phase of relocating refugees will be completed by the end of the year. Nkosi believes all displacees may be housed by June next year.
But for Mokhondo the camp has ruined her life and help has come too late.
“My heart changed since my arrival here. If we happen to move out of here, please tell the other people to bring us pillows, curtains and blankets. What are we going to put in a new house? We have nothing.”