For many refugees streaming into South Africa, especially from Zimbabwe, it is a matter of trading a life of poverty and famine for one of violent crime, unemployment and bureaucratic obstacles.
Most of the refugees arriving here try to escape the economic meltdown in neighbouring Zimbabwe. If they are not detained at the border, they make their way to the Johannesburg and Pretoria offices of the Department of Home Affairs.
Elliot Moyo, a researcher at the Centre for Forced Migration Studies at the University of Witwatersrand in Johannesburg, says: ”The Zimbabwean situation is traumatising in itself. It is true that some leave because of the economic collapse. They cannot access the basic commodities. Economic migration coupled with ongoing violence and intimidation has led them to seek refuge in South Africa.”
The Mail & Guardian Online spoke to two refugees about their experiences and the difficulty in obtaining asylum-seeker status in South Africa.
Lee Faison (33), an accountant from Kwe Kwe, Zimbabwe, manages an adult literacy school at the Central Methodist church in central Johannesburg, a known haven for refugees.
”They’re [refugees] are from all over. It’s mainly Zimbabweans but you can find some from Mozambique, Zambia, DRC [Democratic Republic of Congo], Rwanda, Ethiopia, Malawi and even Ivory Coast. We all stay peacefully at the church and no one interferes,” he says.
Leaving behind his wife and seven-year-old boy in Kwe Kwe, Faison set out in February 2006 for Johannesburg.
”I had some help. I knew people who were always crossing the border between Zimbabwe and South Africa, but coming [in] illegally is very difficult. The border guards are not dangerous. If you are caught by them, all they do is hold you for a while and send you back after fining you,” he says.
However, ”The people who rob and steal and kill at the border are vicious. They are [the] most vicious and should be known as animals instead, and not people. They have traits like animals. They attack people [refugees], rob them, beat them, kill and even rape women.”
According to the Department of Home Affairs, the number of people seeking asylum and protection in South Africa each day is estimated at more than 1 000. The department does say, however, that this number of registered asylum seekers does not reflect the number of those queueing outside its refugee reception offices.
Refugees soon find that life in South Africa has its own challenges.
Says Faison: ”Johannesburg has the stench of death on it. In my first week here I smelt death on the streets. I witnessed a shoot-out between cops and robbers on the first day I was here. In the second week I was here I was robbed. People here have such indifference to others.
”Johannesburg is unsafe. In Zimbabwe, I could still walk at night and know I won’t be mugged. With all our problems we still feel safe from each other.”
He sends whatever he earns home to his wife via cross-border traders. ”The deliverymen charge 20% for every R100 we send home. For groceries, it depends. They judge and give us a price, but we trust them and we know the money will get home safe to our families.”
His wife is studying interior design at the technical college in Kwe Kwe. ”If things change overnight in Zimbabwe, I will be back home overnight,” Faison says.
Desperate measures
Many refugees resort to desperate measures to cross the border. Some are assisted by human traffickers, for which there is a booming market, and some arrive via bus or truck. Others travel to South Africa with temporary travel documents and decide to stay.
Moyo, of the Centre for Forced Migration Studies, says that towards the end of last year, the centre’s research team at home affairs saw an increase in arrivals from Malawi, Lesotho, Rwanda and Somalia.
Department of Home Affairs head of communications Jacky Mashapu says that the department registered 7 612 new applications for asylum during January this year.
”Refugee reception offices’ trend shows that Pretoria led the pack with 3 018, followed by Cape Town and Rosettenville respectively with 2 728 and 1 279. Durban (247) and Port Elizabeth (340) have fewer numbers of registered asylum seekers.”
The department has been overwhelmed by the flood of refugees. ”They are not able to deal with the mass exodus,” says Moyo.
Plenty of queueing await refugees who need to have their documents issued.
The Department of Home Affairs office in Johannesburg does not have sufficient infrastructure and human resources to process asylum applications. Refugees have to travel to the home affairs office in Pretoria to apply for asylum-seeker status; once they have been processed, collection takes place at the Rosettenville reception office in Johannesburg.
”This is not easy. It is a big challenge to newly arriving refugees who have to travel to Pretoria, [only] then to get there and realise that there is no relief. There is a bottleneck in the process,” says Moyo.
The department’s Mashapu says, however, that an additional home affairs office in Crown Mines in the city should start operating soon to help take care of the backlog in asylum applications.
Survival
To survive, many refugees resort to informal trade, find their way into the security industry or become waiters. Moyo says that some even get jobs as teachers.
”The Department of Education has benefited the most from the refugees. Many schools even help some get their papers,” he says.
Some South Africans feel threatened by the new arrivals, and there is a growing tendency among the country’s citizens to alienate and intimidate refugees, especially informal traders, says Moyo.
Sitting on an upside-down drum at the Central Methodist church, Peter Dzingai (39), another refugee from Zimbabwe, shares Faison’s sentiments.
Dzingai sells tea and coffee from a makeshift table — a board balanced over some tins and bricks. By pouring boiled water from a flask and using instant coffee and tea, he earns a few rands to send to his wife and three children in Masvingo.
The bus ride from Masvingo to the border was the easy part, says Dzingai; crossing the border on foot and avoiding the criminals operating there was difficult. The primary-school teacher now has to contend with doing odd jobs to earn an income to send home.
Dzingai’s reason for fleeing Zimbabwe is different from the others. Instead of fleeing to a ”better life”, he was forced to leave.
”I was a teacher at the primary school in Masvingo. The NGOs used to help with the schools and I joined them. There was nothing political in what they were doing. But I was victimised for working for with the whites. I tried to explain, but it was all in vain. I had problems with my neighbours and with the ruling party’s [Zanu-PF’s] district committee.”
Dzingai wants to rejoin his family soon and says that being without them in Johannesburg is the worst. ”Johannesburg is a little better than back home, but the worst thing I hate is the crime. The crime rate is too high, but I am more afraid of the thugs than the police. I was robbed three times. I miss my family and hope I see them soon.”