At an age when most people are enjoying a quiet retirement, Reshoketswe Mabulelong has started not just a new career but one which finds her wading across muddy building sites in a hard hat, shouting orders at men.
“No, no, you can’t ask my age, just say I am a senior citizen,” says Mabulelong sternly. A former nurse, she used her retirement package to build a house, and the building bug bit.
“I saw men in the community who had been retrenched by big contractors. They are not literate, they don’t have bank accounts, so they can’t open their own companies. They have the skills but they cannot work alone and I saw that as a source to be utilised.”
She recruited some of the men to build her new house. “I acted as the project manager for my house. I am very proud of it — I learned a lot.” She then embarked on a round of courses and workshops offered by Women for Housing, learning everything from working with cement to project management, and is now the owner of a thriving construction company.
Her company has just completed work on a skills development centre in Zakariyah Park, on the sprawling fringes of Jo’burg’s ever mushrooming metropolis. The centre, commissioned by the City of Jo’burg, will offer training in computer skills, cooking, carpentry and sewing, in a bid to alleviate the high poverty and unemployment levels in this area. Billowing sheets of ochre dust scud across the landscape, scouring the tiny dwellings in which so many of the city’s workforce live, far from the opportunities offered by the golden city.
“There was such a dire need for this project, the people here are so hungry for it, so we have met their needs. It makes me feel proud,” says Mabulelong. She worked as a community development nurse training people on nutrition and women’s health, but says there is little difference between developing communities through education or through — literally — building the nation.
Home fires burning
“A house means warmth, it means comfort. The meaning of home is universal. A woman has to keep the home fires burning, but how can she do that without a house?”
While she does not play down the problems of trying to manage men, she has an old-school, accept-no-excuses attitude: “Some of these young men are not so committed. They are only after money and don’t care about quality,” says this formidable matriarch. “I prefer older people who have experience, a sense of responsibility and are concerned about quality.”
Quality is also an issue for many of their clients: “Most women are single parents and home-providers, so they feel more confident when they see women working on their place, because they know we pay more attention to detail,” she chuckles.
Mabulelong has now entered into a joint venture with Tsedi Raselomane, a young woman half her age, whom she met at a Women for Housing workshop. Raselomane worked her way up through the industry, working on construction sites during her school holidays, and later setting up a small business painting houses, plumbing and doing maintenance. After attending Women for Housing training workshops, her first big project was winning a tender from public works department to renovate the Brixton Police station.
In addition to gender dynamics, the duo often has to deal with the issue of race in an industry not used to having black women on top. “Look, white men don’t have work now, so they need us … and we need their expertise. What fun is it if you are seated at home with your expertise?” says Mabulelong
Both are dismissive of notions that the anticipated building boom ahead of 2010 will create jobs for women in the construction industry: “We don’t just create jobs for people,” snorts Mabulelong. “They must have the passion, they must have the heart for it and they must have the expertise. We don’t hand anything to anyone on a plate.”
Quality is key
Another woman who has embraced construction as a successful second career is Thato Lehlokoe. She has a BCom in accounting, was studying towards an MBA, and was deputy director of finance at the Legal Aid Board when she decided to trade in her briefcase and office for safety boots and work in the great outdoors. She attended Women for Housing workshops where she learned bricklaying, plumbing and construction best practices before setting up her own company, Basadi Together. “This is the most comfortable job I ever did,” she says surveying her construction site in Orange Farm, where she has been contracted to build houses for this year’s Women’s Build project. “I am at peace with myself”.
A physically imposing presence, she is close to six foot tall in her construction boots, a big bundle of energy and enthusiasm. One minute she is up on the roof of a house, the next leaping down to check on the men building a wall, and challenging her team to lay the next row of bricks not just as fast, but as neatly as her. “I am faster than these guys,” she shouts gleefully as she sets to with her trowel and a tray of daka (mortar). “I don’t wait for inspectors to tell me something is wrong. If it’s not right it comes down.”
A firm believer in leading from the front, she literally gets her hands dirty every day. “We women have been told for so long that we don’t know — now we want to prove that we do. I am competing with men in this industry who have more experience but my product is better,” she says confidently. “I am on site, I motivate the workers and I work alongside them to make sure the quality is consistent.”
She points out that it is in fact harder to build low-cost housing, as the residents often cannot afford to have the walls plastered, so brick-work must be done very neatly as sloppiness is not hidden under layers of plaster. “And even if it is going to be plastered, I still want it done neatly — don’t get into bad habits,” she grins at her crew.
A young man perched on the roof wears a red hard hat emblazoned with the legend “Basadi” (women), listening attentively to her instructions. She manages gender dynamics with courtesy and respect. “I don’t want to be a chauvinist. I give them respect as men and I also need to be respected.”
She is quick to stress that while construction is a field of opportunity for women, it is no easy ride. “All you will be given is a chance, but you will have to compete on the same scale and meet the same standards as men. And don’t wait to be called, read the newspapers to find the tenders. Network. Get out there and find the jobs.”
As a former corporate citizen, Lehlokoe is amused at how differently people treat her when she is wearing boots and blue overalls. “Sometimes in the bank, I see them looking down at me, and they do treat me differently. I don’t care — I’m there to pay my people or to cash a big cheque,” she says with a twinkle.
Gifts of democracy
A few houses down the road lives Mme Letia Lehlokwane, an unbelievably sprightly octogenarian. Born in 1918, she has seen it all.
She spent all her life as a domestic worker in Sasolburg but retired 19 years ago, with no home to call her own. With her blue and white print dress, headscarf, stockings and walking stick, she is the epitome of working class respectability. At present she lives in an mkhukhu in Orange Farm with her daughter and four grandchildren. Soon she will move into a house being built by the Women’s Build project, just a metre from her shack. For Lehlokwane, the modest two-room house is the fulfilment of her life’s dream.
“I am heartbroken. I never thought I would have this opportunity. It is like seeing my mother and my father again.” She links her fortunes to the democratic South Africa, reminding us that before 1994 even a shack would have been out of her reach. She calls for one of her grandsons to bring her a chair, so she can sit in the narrow passage between the shack and the house under construction, a hand resting on the wall of each. “The shack is Mr Mandela’s gift, and this new house is Mr Mbeki’s gift. Before them there was nothing. It was suffering.”
When asked what she is most looking forward to about moving in she says decisively, “Cleaning! I will be able to clean my house properly at last, because when you are in a shack it is hard to see how clean it is. My new house will be my mansion.”
Confidence building
Women for Housing is a non-profit organisation that facilitates opportunities for women in the housing sector, through advocacy, training and support. It runs training courses for women who are developing construction businesses, offering a range of skills from bricklaying, plumbing and plastering to finance, marketing and costing.
To celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Women’s March to the Union Buildings as well as the achievements of women in the housing sector, Women for Housing has teamed up with the Department of Housing, Thubelisha Homes and the National Home Builders Registration Council to build 50 houses for 50 women over the age of 50 in Orange Farm, south of Johannesburg.
The majority of beneficiaries of the Womens Build Project are women who worked as domestic or farm workers, and ended up homeless when they left their employment. Many had title deeds to plots of land but could not afford to build formal houses.
Twenty five of the houses are being built by two female contractors, who will be using the project to transfer skills to new women entrants in the industry.
“These two contractors were selected because the quality of their work has always been excellent. Emerging contractors are often blamed for shoddy work, but it is actually often the big contractors who cut corners,” says Elizabeth O’Leary, director of Women for Housing.”
The other 25 houses will be built up to window level by a core contracting team and completed by corporate volunteers who will add the finishing touches during the week of August 14 to 18. The volunteers will not only gain the opportunity to add value to the community, but for many it will be their first experience of an informal settlement. — Nicole Johnston