Archive for the ‘Diary: My house’ Category

Sept 1, 2009

Slum house in Pottinger Street. Pic: Theo Jeptha

“It’s a hot Tuesday afternoon and I have just arrived in King William’s Town to check out the place I’ll be living in for the rest of this month.

It’s a daunting task because I have to be extra careful about everything I say to everyone. The owner of the house I am staying in is also the same women I am investigating.

Prior to my first meeting with her, I had learned that she works in the Premier’s office in Bisho but our first encounter took place about a week ago when she was showing me some of her other properties that she is renting out to people.

Initially she had shown me some of her better places or communes but for the sake of my investigation, I wanted to be in the thick of things – get the real experience of living in the slums like her tenants.

Thankfully I managed to persuade her to give me a back room at one of her other houses at 6 Pottinger Street, King William’s Town – a spot which I had heard from one of my contacts, was a place packed with people.

Unsurprisingly, I found out later that at 6 Pottinger, 21 people live on the residential premise – SHARING A SINGLE BATHROOM BETWEEN THEM!

I’m sure you can imagine the health hazards by now.

Sept 2, 2009

Yekela talking to a client. Pic: Theo Jeptha

I’m on my way out to meet the home’s owner, a woman by the name of Agrinette Nompiliso Yekela in King William’s Town. We agreed on rent at R1 200 for a small back room at 6 Pottinger. The room has nothing in it, not even a lightbulb.

We meet outside Jet Mart clothing, where Yekela runs a street vendor’s stall. Yekela rushes from her high profile office job at the Premier’s office at exactly 4pm every day to her street vendor’s stall.

But I quickly realise that it’s just a front for her real business – it’s really an office where her clients come to see her if they need a place to stay. And Yekela provides.

She seems to very popular because I asked a few people – strangers nogal – where I could find accommodation in this town and they told me about a women who sits outside the Jet Mart store. I knew straight away they were talking about the very same women I had met.

Anyway our meeting does not go as planned, she changes her mind about letting me move into the

Mrs Yekela on her way home after a productive day. Pic: Theo Jeptha

house today, saying she does not trust me enough to give me the keys without paying the full month’s rent – and a deposit of R600 upfront.

I do not want her to get suspicious of who I am, so I play it cool and tell her that I will deposit R1 800 into her bank account – God’s Creation Investment cc – the following day and bring her the deposit slip as proof of payment to her office in Bisho.

She agrees and we part ways,  but I manage to get a room and spend the night at another slumhouse belonging to a woman called Zoleka Mciteka at 2 Marais Road.
Mciteka also owns an overcrowded commune on Alexandra Road next door to Capital Properties business premises.

Sept 2,  2009

Mrs Yekela

It feels a bit strange waking up in Zoleka Mciteka’s place because I’m not sure if she knows or is friends with Yekela and any mention of my appearance there will have blown my cover.

The only thing that tells me my cover is safe is that I had introduced myself to both ladies:  as Khayalethu to Mciteka and Babalo to Yekela. I knew that they could probably describe me perfectly to each other if they were friends but luckily she’s not interest in what I am doing in King William’s Town.

I pay Mciteka R250 for the night and quickly collect my belongings.

My next mission is now go to Standard Bank and deposit Yekela’s R1800 so that she could give me the keys for my new room.

I deposit the money and make a few copies of the deposit slip and then drive to the Premier’s office in Bisho to give her proof of payment. I call her and we meet in the parking lot outside the Premier’s office.

Yekela is carrying a black hard-cover notebook which I assume to be her “real-estate business file.”

Inside it has a lease agreement contract and house rules which she reads out to me and I sign.

“Let’s get this inside the car and sign this,” she says to me. She seems nervous and keeps on looking around to check if anybody is noticing us.

While going through the lease agreement in the car, she nearly catches me out twice – first she asks me for my ID book and as I am about to reach into my bag to get it, I suddenly remember that I am “Babalo” not Gcina. I quickly dismiss her and say I left it at home because I did not think I would need it.

She then barks at me, saying: “where’s your driver’s licence I want to see it!” – Oh no, I think, this is going to be a dead give-away.

I quickly suck up the courage and look her in the face: “NO! I don’t have one and I know that I’m not supposed to be driving, I am just taking a chance.”

“Where are your car keys, I want to see them,” she says. I take them out and show her that there’s no drivers’ licence attached.

By now I’m crapping myself, my armpits are sweating. Inside I keep praying and hoping that she does not catch me out.

Eventually she says: “Sign here and I sign very quickly so that she can get the hell out of the car and go. When she gets out and shut the door behind her, it is a huge moment of relief because I know just close I had come to being busted!

“Damn! That was close.” That’s all I’m saying to myself on my way back to KWT to collect my keys from one of her tenants living in the same house I’m moving into.

Sept 3, 2009

Arrival at the KWT home. Pic: Theo Jeptha

I get to the house and knock on the door a few times. There is no answer, so I go around to the back and see an open door and hear the sound of a child playing. I yell: “Is there anyone home?!”

A woman named Mrs Khuselo walks out and I ask her to give me the keys to the back room. I explain to her that I have just spoken to Mrs Yekela and she’s the one who said I could fetch them.

No questions asked, Mrs Khuseko gives me the keys and I go to go check out my little “possie”!

My journey with KWT slumlords is on…

Sept 3, 2009

My new home in KWT

I spent my first night in my little backroom last night and I must admit,  I do not feel in danger at all. My burglar gate was locked with a padlock and my door was also locked.

In the morning I get a chance to meet some of the other tenants before they go to school. Three young guys live in the room next to mine.
“Eita ma Outie, nigrand majimbos!,” I said greeting them in colloquial urban “tsotsi taal” (rogues language).

And one of them say: “Eita da, sigrand mey ta akhonto.”

We exchange a few words and this quick introduction enables me to walk up to their front door and get a quick glimpse inside their room.

It is squashed-up by three beds, a cupboard, a stove a few dirty pots and dishes.

The only available toilet and bathroom is inside the house which means these guys also have to share them with at least 21 other people.

They told me that they pay a monthly rent of R1 500 collectively for their single room.

I introduce myself as just “Gcina from East London” to these guys and they do not show much interest in what I’m doing in KWT.

They tell me their names and I say I’ll pop in more regularly when they are around since I don’t

My new home in KWT

know anyone in town – and they agree.

Later on I decide to go and check out another place or commune that I have been told about before I moved to KWT.

It’s on the main road (Alexandra Road) next to Capital Properties.

This house, is also owned by Zoleka Mciteka – the woman who had put me up for the night on Monday in her other house on Marais Road.

I’m lucky enough to catch one of her tenants standing outside when I arrive, a young man by the name of Luzuko.

I introduce myself to him as someone who is looking for accommodation in town and he says he will try to help me me to get a room in the same house, because someone is supposedly moving out.

Luzuko shows me his room – which has been subdivided from other rooms by a piece of cardboard. It is messy because he shares it with another guy – so there’s washing and dirty clothes all over the place.

The pots and groceries on the floor immediately tells me that these guys cook and eat in this tiny room.

The bathroom shower is dirty as hell. I cannot not imagine myself taking a shower there. Conditons inside the shower can safely be described as a health hazard.

Luzuko is a very nice guy, who wanted to help me and so we agree that I will come around in a few days so I can go “house hunting” with him.

Sept 4, 2009

Tenants of my house. Pic: Theo Jeptha

By now I’m getting comfortable with life with my fellow tenants. The one flaw in my room is that I still don’t have a lightbulb – and therefore no sufficient light.

I also know it would make no difference to my landlady whether I ask for a lightbulb or not – so I’m not even going to bother in raising the issue with her.

I get the feeling that this is how things are run in this house. If you have a problem you fix it yourself.

The landlady in the Premier’s office is too busy to be worried about broken taps or lightbulbs – she tells her tenants to fix their problems themselves.

After a quiet morning, I decide to try my luck at one of the communes I have driven past and observe earlier.

It is not far from where I live so I drive there and park by the gate as if I’m waiting for someone.

Judging from the traffic of people going in and out, I’m convinced that this is also a slum

home.

I see a young chap outside carrying a bag and I go up to him and introduce myself as someone who

Some of the tenants of my house. Pic: Theo Jeptha

is interested in renting a room there.

He tells me he is moving in with his two friends who are sharing one room and paying about R1 500 per month.

Unfortunately I do not get to check it out inside because his friends are not there and he is waiting for them outside.

We exchange numbers and agree to meet up again so he can introduce me to his friends…

Sept 7, 2009

Back at the slumhouse. Pic: Theo Jeptha

Going back up to KWT again after last week’s close encounters with Mrs Yekela, has given me some confidence to explore this story further by getting to know her tenants.

My plan for this week is to create an open and trustworthy relationship with these people so that they can talk to me freely about the conditions which they live under.

Being based in this house is definitely a strategic move because I’m always close to the action and If there’s nothing happening here, I can go to other places and check out the movements there.

I arrive in KWT at about 2pm and drop off the car preparing to continue my life with my house mates.

It turns out to be a fairly quiet night.

Sept 8, 2009

Today I spend the afternoon at Luzuko’s place in Alexandra Road, sitting outside on the porch and chatting. He tells me about his family and how he ended up living there because he could not afford any other accommodation around town.

He says he has no control over what the house looks like because there are many other people that live there and everybody basically comes and goes as they please.

He tells me the rooms are given to those who pay upfront and there is no direct supervisor in the house. The landlady,  Mrs Mciteka, collects her rent money at the end of the month and they barely hear from her after that.

The only time they get to see her is when she comes around to collect her money.

There are approximately 10 to 12 people staying there in 8 bedrooms which have been subdivided to make more space.

Even the lounge has been made into two rooms and all the people share one washbasin and a shower.

The paraffin primus stoves that they cook with in their rooms are a serious health hazard.

The stench coming from leaking sewerage pipes and refuse bags outside are causing problems with nearby businesses and adjacent properties because the sewerage flows onto the street.

Sept 9, 2009

Slum residents relaxing. Pic: Theo Jeptha

The guys from next door had no classes today so they spent the whole day lounging around in their room.

I spent most of the day with them fooling around and taking photos.

By now I can sense that they are comfortable with me and the camera, so the atmosphere is pretty relaxed.

They enjoyed posing for the camera and having their pictures taken.

By now I have introduced myself to them as a Dispatch reporter – but they still have no idea what I’m reporting on in KWT.

To be honest,  the guys didn’t show much interest in my job, so I let things be that way.

Hanging washing in the back yard. Pic: Theo Jeptha

We go out and buy some beers and started drinking in their room.

We are all sitting on the beds because there are no chairs in the room and even if there were, there is not enough space to fit them.

While sitting here, I can’t believe that these guys in their late teens and early twenties are living like this.

Imagine bathing, cooking, eating, sleeping and studying in one room – just because you can’t afford anything else. It’s horrible because I feel claustrophobic while I’m sitting here.

It does not seem like there is enough space to move.

They asked me to stay for supper but I can’t because it does not feel right to eat their food when they have so little.

Sept 10, 2009

Anette Rademeyer

I have seen some pretty nasty things since I arrived here.  To think that these people live like this for 365 days a year,  while other people are cashing in on their miserable experience is totally sickening.

An interview with DA councillor Annette Rademeyer shows me just how serious this problem is and how it affects other people.

Many people around KWT are struggling to sell their houses because the property values keep decreasing with the mushrooming of these illegal communes.

One couple I know of, has been trying to sell their house for months now, but nobody wants to buy it because it’s right next door to a slum.

I spoke to them and they told me that they have now even removed the “For Sale” signs outside, because nobody wants to move live next to a crowded commune.

Rademeyer says health regulations and zoning regulations are ignored as well as the state of the property.

She says in most of these cases, the main complaint she gets is about the

Slums have become a health hazard

health issue.
“The sewerage system cannot cope and in one case, the tenants use the garden as a toilet which impacts on the neighbours.”

“This simply has to stop – One property which has been the bane of my life since around 2006, has still not be acted upon.  The owner gets given chance after chance, flouts the law, ignores letters and notices, but nothing is done about stopping what is going on,” she says.

She says King Williams Town “is turning into a slum and in some cases, the culprits either live in the more affluent parts of town or they don’t even live in town.”

“Such activity devalues other properties in the neighbourhood affecting people’s lifetime investments.  What is the point of investing in a town or city when the local authority does nothing to ensure that people who break the law are taken to task and forced to clean up their act?” she asked.