Fire, water and women in the shack settlements of Durban

-Image by Nozuko Lulama Hulushe of Kennedy Road stand tap
Arriving in Durban just before the March 2006 municipal elections I was met with the loud cry emerging from around the city: "No land, No house, No vote". Led principally by Abahlali baseMjondolo (shackdweller's movement) in Durban, the call was an indictment of the current municipal regime, echoing earlier calls by the Landless People's Movement in 2003 to withhold votes until land was won (Alexander, 2006). A deepening entrenchment of neo-liberalism in South Africa is fueling the fire in which the rich get richer, and more and more of the country is thrust into poverty, the majority of whom are black. By many estimates there are more than 3 million people living in shack settlements in South Africa. For the poor little seems to have changed since the end of apartheid.
Life in the shacks is untenable. In Kennedy Road, an informal settlement comprising of nearly 7,000 residents, women spend hours of queuing for water at a single stand tap that serves 700. There is only one toilet for hundreds of residents. There is no garbage pick up. There is no electricity. Women speak of the perils of shack fires and the lack of access to water as two points in a revolving cycle of hardships in the settlements. While the city insists homes are being built, the municipality seems more intent on a process of 'removal' and 'Slum Clearance' than on adequately addressing the needs of the poor (Pithouse, 2006).
The situation of shack dwellers draws to light not only understandings around how class is constructed in a post-apartheid context, but as Amanda Alexander and Andile Mngxitama remind us, it also elucidates the deeply raced and gendered oppressions through which neo-liberalism is rooted in South Africa (Alexander & Mngxitama, forthcoming). Nomvula Mdlalose from Kennedy Road writes :
It has been long time since we have been in this place. I’ve even given birth to three children since I have been here. I came here in 1992 when I was young. I haven’t seen any progress or development here. There is only illness from diseases, from TB to HIV, that has taken so many people. They leave behind small children because of AIDS.
Black women are on the front lines of both in terms of the oppression and the resistance to the hardships of life in the shacks. As has also been apparent through the continuing repression of Abahlali baseMjondolo, poor black men continue to feel the systemic oppression meted out by the state through police, prisons and courts on the level of their bodies, as well as through the difficulties of day-to-day life in the shack settlements (Zikode, 2005).
These harsh realities lurk just beneath the glossy surface of the city, potentially unnoticed by visitors. Yet shack dwellers refuse to be silent. A steadily growing mass of communities throughout eThekwini have mobilized under the banner of Abahlali baseMjondolo to demand their right to decent living conditions. Their stories and voices will not go unheard.
The response to shacks
By the city's own admission, there are 205 000 households in the eThekwini municipal region who may have to wait until 2022 to have a home. Without a hint of irony Mayor Obed Mlaba wrote that this is his strategy of 'bringing homes to the people' (Mlaba, 2006).
A child living in a shack today has the mayor's shaky promise of a home once they nearly reach adulthood. This is the appallingly inadequate reality that thousands of people living in shack settlements in Durban are being asked to accept.
It is hard to imagine how a mother might explain the news to her children that it may be 16 more years before it is possible to begin to build a better life.
How would mayor Mlaba explain this news to his own children if he were faced with the situation? How would he describe to his daughter that while stadiums are being built, she must wait for a home to live in?
Would he attempt to convince her of the benefits of the Grand Prix to the greater South African society, hoping to drown out her despair beneath the drone of fast cars? 'Dear child', he might implore her, 'with events such as the World Cup, yacht, cycling and canoe races all around us, we can wait for a house and continue to live in this poverty. Only 16 more years at worst…'
How would he explain to his daughter as she grows into womanhood how the prosperity of Durban is more important than a childhood that excludes fear of sickness, poverty, insecurity and potential death? And, if she makes it through the difficulties of living in the shack settlements, will it not be with a tinge of dreadful sorrow that this child, now grown, finally receives a home?
Of course, there is no way to explain to any of the hundreds of thousand of people living in shacks in Durban why their lives are not first on the agenda. The city's 'budget is limited' only by what it has chosen to prioritize.
These are people's lives. These are years that cannot be reclaimed. Given the swiftly dropping life expectancy in South Africa, which has decreased from 62 years in 1990 to 47 years in 2005, this urgency becomes all the more critical (UNFPA, 2005). It is in this context that the plight for a home is the very plight for life itself.
"Lokhu akuphephile.
Angiyithandi lempilo. Wonke amasonto ingane iyagula.
This is not safe.
I don’t like this life. Every week a child becomes sick."
- Image and text by Nontobeko Ngcobo
Over the past year a mass-based social movement calling itself Abahlali BaseMjondolo has grown throughout Durban. While the communities comprising the movement are diverse, their demands are unified: the government must make good on its promises to provide land and housing to the poorest of the poor (Zikode, 2005). Abahlali has managed to bring the conditions in which they live, their struggle for dignity and the basic necessities of life into the forefront of public discussion. The 2006 "No Land! No House! No Vote" campaign garnered an impressive amount of media attention during the lead up to the election.
The call to withhold votes brought forth the many contradictions apparent to the poor of Durban. How can democracy be said to function for those whom the political system has failed so significantly? How can people find faith in a system that continues to exploit them, repressing even their access to forums within which they can express their concerns?
"We are tired. We are really tired", laments Nonhlanhla Mzobe, one of the founding members and elected deputy chair of Abahlali baseMjondolo. She has lived in the Kennedy Road informal settlement since she was three-years old. Her 16-year-old daughter was born in the shacks. Perhaps Mlaba could gain some insight from Nonhlanhla on what it means for a child to grow to adulthood in the shacks.
Fighting Back
On February 27th 2006, in the lead up to the elections, the police suppressed a legal Abahlali BaseMjondolo march and wrongfully arrested 4 young men for 'illegal gathering' at Foreman Road. A few months later, after jail time, numerous visits to the courthouse, and the doling out of legal fees, all charges were dropped against the men. In November 2005 police fired rubber bullets at protesters and arrested a number of community members (Alexander, et al, 2005). The events surrounding the suppression of this march, and other instances of repression and arrests for peaceful Abahlali protests, are an unmistakable reminder of how the city is attempting to silence the poorest of the poor. What does this mean for the vibrancy of South Africa's post-apartheid social movements?
Yet, even within the context of repression, the marches continue as people fight for their right to the basics of life.
In the large settlements around Durban the sprawling shacks are hard to miss. In places like Kennedy Road and Foreman Road thousands of shacks dangle off steep, refuse strewn, slopes. I had my first encounter with these communities while in Durban as a visiting scholar with the Center for Civil society at UKZN. The shacks are a colourful mish mash of materials, shapes and sizes. The dangers of living in these settlements are innumerable. Many of the most sever dangers– open refuse and sewage, deaths and injuries from shack fires, inadequate water supply and toilets for residents including those living with HIV and AIDS – would be preventable if the municipality were to provide the same services as they do elsewhere in the city.
Fire and Water
"We live in shacks that leak when it rains and the water gets inside the house. Next to our houses there are loads of garbage and mosquitoes. This place we live in is not suitable for people. Would you live in a place like this?"
- Nomvula Mdlalose, resident of Kennedy Road, image by Nozuko Lulama Hulushe
In the time I was able to spend in a few of Durban's informal settlements speaking, working and organizing with people, I was struck by the realities of life in the shacks, especially how the lives of women were shaped and formed around such a precarious existence for themselves and their children. At Kennedy Road, for example, women's bodies were constantly impacted in immediate and intense ways by the dangerous environment in which they live.
Some of their stories are hard to forget.
Zodwa Nsibande story is one of those. On the evening before her exams Zodwa was burned in a shack fire. An active member of Abahlali BaseMjondolo, she knew of the danger of shack fires. Only a year before, one-year old Mhlengi Khumalo died in a shack fire caused by a toppled over candle. In 2005 at least six people, mainly children, had died from shack fires caused by fallen candles (Goldstone, 2005). Zodwa was cooking with an ethanol stove meant to be safer and cheaper than using paraffin. But the stove wouldn't turn off and Zodwa's clothes caught fire. She was treated for severe burns to her legs, face and body. It is impossible to reconcile the image of the thousands like Zodwa that are living in Durban without the basics of homes, water and electricity --- their lives at risk--- living side by side with residents who are enjoying all those same amenities.
Only a few weeks earlier Zodwa, aware of the many hazards facing her community, had written:
"Life is too hard here in Kennedy Road, not only for adults, even for children. Here are our children. They don’t have proper places to play. They are playing near the dumping place which is very dangerous to them as well as unhealthy because there are toxic things in this dumping place.
"We are appealing to the government as well as his officials to build parks and playgrounds for our children so that our children should be safe and crime free."
The danger of deadly shack fires is an everyday reality. Yet it is a reality that can be averted. The city has provided no access to electricity in Kennedy Road since 2001. At night candles flicker within the wood, tin, and cardboard structures while food is cooked over paraffin. A moment's neglect can set a shack ablaze, which in turn will often cause the destruction of many other homes. In April 2006 a fire in Lacey Road left 250 people homeless. Weeks later the settlement at Joe Slovo was on fire. Still, nothing has been done to provide residents with electricity. The city claims that it doesn't have sufficient funds. Yet as Raj Patel and Richard Pithouse rightly point out, "The claimed lack of funding is not some objective reality. It is a political decision." (2006) While other projects such as the World Cup boom ahead, the shack settlements are still in the dark. The terrible burns Zodwa suffered could have been prevented.
Shack fires are one of the perils the residents of shack settlements are forced to contend with. Women living in the shacks have a lot to say about the conditions they face. As Christiniah Zizile Ngwazi writes next to a photograph of herself in the settlement:
"This is the house I live in. This shack built from planks and covered with plastic as a roof. When it rains it is as if I live in a pigsty. It leaks and the chickens come in and then there is a lot of mud and water. Also, the houses burn down frequently. There are many dead bodies because of shack fires."
-Text by Christiniah Zizile Ngwazi
If it is not fire it is the rain. Working with women like Christiniah and Zodwa who are fighting for change was inspiring and humbling. It made me keenly aware of my privilege as a white foreigner, and all that I take for granted with the simple gestures of turning on a tap and sleeping in a warm bed at night. It also made me reflect on how to support the work they are doing in a way that is not patronizing, but useful, and takes the voices, lived experience and knowledge of women living in these conditions seriously.
Zandile Nsibande is another active member of Abahlali BaseMjondolo. She is also Zodwa's mother. Zandile took photographs and wrote about the challenges of living in Kennedy Road. Her story is about water.
This is our tap where we fetch water. The distance from my shack to the tap is 2 km. It is very hard for me to carry 25 liters, especially when I’m dong the washing. I have to go 4 times to fetch water to do my washing. I’m going 2 times to fetch water for my house work, so I’m using 50 liters for house work beside washing.
Life is very hard at Kennedy Road informal settlement. The main challenge at the tap is the queue because there are 700 people for one tap.
Christiniah also talks about the time and energy it takes to access water:
I live in Kennedy Road in a shack. I have been living here for ten years but I have seen no progress. We tread in the mud when we go to the tap to get water which is 5 km away. There is only one tap and so we have to stand in line and wait our turn. You can wait for about two hours to get water, especially at the times when the workers are coming home from work.
-Image and photo by Christiniah Zizile Ngwazi
Fire consumes the shacks and the water queue gets ever longer. So often it is women who are left with the burdens of fetching the water, caring for the sick and HIV infected, watching over children who have nowhere safe and clean to play, cooking over open and dangerous flames and loosing valuable time in the water queue. The dangers and perils of life in the settlements are especially high for these women.
Theirs are just a few of the many voices in settlements like Kennedy Road who are saying enough is enough. A social movement was set in motion as shack dwellers recognized the necessity of speaking out on their own behalf about the injustices they face. Abahlali BaseMjondolo is an example of the way in which people are taking power into their own hands in an attempt to make positive change for their communities.
In a place like Kennedy Road, where 7,000 people live with only 5 stand taps, where children die when shacks go up in flames, where people are forced to relive themselves in the bushes because there are so few toilets, and where children must play in refuse --- in a place with all these harsh, daunting realities --- it is with urgency that people demand a better life. Even under such dire circumstances, people continue to stand up with dignity and honor and say ‘enough is enough’ and to demand their rights to ask for the basic necessities of life which many of us take for granted. The demand for land and housing reflects with utmost clarity what people need. This is what they want, and if the transformation of this country is really going to take place, this is what they must have.
Labels: Abahlali baseMjondolo, Housing


