In Mandelaville, near Roodepoort, residents are literally in the dark as they wait for the Johannesburg Metropolitan Council to deliver on the promises of a better life it made when it relocated them from Diepkloof in 2001. Four years later, they still watch battery-operated TVs because there is no electricity.
But unlike residents of other townships across the country, who took to the streets barricading roads, stoning cars and marching to highlight their plight, Mandelaville has opted for the legal route.
The residents are taking Jo’burg Metro to court to force it to build houses and upgrade their living conditions. In fact, they have already won a high court order for the council to deliver. But it is still reneging on its promises.
According to Mandelaville Crisis Committee chairperson Thulani Skhosana, their story began in 2000 when the African National Congress asked them for votes in return for a promise of relocation to a place with better living conditions than the informal settlement they had been staying in since 1976.
The council promised to build houses for them within a year of their arrival, as well as to upgrade the old mine houses in which some of the residents had been housed.
They are still waiting. Many still stay in shacks, while the 734 families in the mine compound have to share 105 working showers. Taps and showers, which have no doors or curtains and therefore provide no privacy, are communal and not gender differentiated. Those staying in the shacks also have to share the few available toilets, which are not partitioned and lack privacy.
Skhosana said the immediate problem the community faced when they arrived was the lack of schooling facilities for their children. But, after soliciting the help of Wits University’s Centre for Applied Legal Studies (Cals) and challenging the provincial government, a primary school has been built for some of the pupils. Others are transported to schools elsewhere.
The biggest disadvantage, say the residents, is that, whereas in Diep-kloof many parents survive by performing odd jobs in neighbouring suburbs, Mandelaville is in the middle of nowhere.
”What we want is a decent life,” said Skhosana. But he is at a loss to understand why the council is failing to provide services even after the initial court order. ”Our ultimate goal is to have houses. We hear that some informal settlements are being formalised and being proclaimed townships, while we are left behind.
”Maybe they think that even if they gave us services such as electricity and water we would not afford them since they are so expensive after being privatised,” Skhosana mused.
While the majority is clamouring for housing, there are those who just need identity documents to access government grants.
Sindi Moya earns R30 every four days for being a nanny in the area. With two children and a 70-year-old mother to support, the family is barely surviving. ”If my mother had an ID she could get a pension grant, which would be enough for us to live on. I don’t care for the houses, give my mother an ID. She needs an ID so that, even if she dies, she can be identifiable,” Moya said.
But Mandelaville is a community on the rise. At least two young people are now completing tertiary education at the University of the Witwatersrand. One of them, bachelor of commerce student Vumile Mhluthwa, is the first litigant in the application to force the council to honour its promises.
Mhluthwa said they are hoping the Johannesburg High Court will force the council to show some commitment towards the community. With the assistance of Cals, he hopes to see the Metro being held liable for contempt.