Category Archives: SIT Research

What is the Price of Eduction? School Fees & Kennedy Road

What is the Price of Education?
A Look at the Inefficacy of School Fee Policy on Kennedy Road

Saren Stiegel
Supervisor Fazel Khan, University of KwaZulu-Natal
School for International Training
South Africa: Reconciliation and Development
Spring 2006

We are so poor, but we don’t know that we are so poor.
There is no access to knowledge…
They don’t know that the policies don’t apply to us. The people in Pretoria are too high to learn about the experience of the informal settlements.
-S’bu Zikode

What we have said is that we understand your economic plight is low but we make an appeal to them to give something to our school fees. Because at
the end of the day, if all the learners apply for an exemption from school fees, whatever subsidy we get from the department is not going to allow us to run the school in terms of telephones and so on. So we need to make an appeal, that we know your economic plight is bad but if you want your children to get quality then obviously you have to pay. Someone has to pay for it.
– A.K. Maharash, Principal of Palmeit Primary

Saren: Is there anything else you want to say about school fees?
“Can I ask, if you can, how can I get help?”
-Jabulani Zungu

Initially when we had the first democratic elections,
one of the pledges was free education for all,
and free housing all, and free this for all and free that for all.
But the government has realized that it cannot fulfill all its promises.
So as a result you have got the masses, who are uneducated.
They heard “free” and now they expect “free.”
-A. Bhairoparsad, Principal of Clareville Primary

The Principal told us, “If he takes my baby, all mommies will send babies
without money.”
-Zandile Nxumalo (Translated by Lungile)

Table of Contents
I. Acknowledgements 4
II. Abstract 4
III. Introduction 5
IV. Glossary of Terms 7
V. Background and Literature Review 9
a. A Brief History of User-fees 9
i. The Policy Development Framework 9
ii. The Funding Formula 15
iii. Critiques and assumptions 18
a. Constitutionality of Funding System 20
b. Government responses and amendments 21
VI. Methodology 25
VII. Limitations of Study 26
VIII. Findings and Analysis 27
a. Attempting to frame the Kennedy Road experience 27
i. Knowledge of the Policies 28
ii. Payment Capabilities 29
ii. Responses of the Children 31
b. Specific School Policy in a Poor Community 33
i. Beliefs of parent’s financial abilities 36
d. How to Proceed 38
IX. Conclusions 40
X. Recommendations 42
XI. Bibliographies 43
a. Bibliography of Interviews 43
b. Bibliography Written Sources 44
XII. Appendices 45
1. Resource Targeting Table 45
2. Calculations for Exemptions 47
3. Survey Instruments 48
4. Transcribed Personal Interviews 50
5. Letter Templates for Workshop 67

Acknowledgements
I am forever in appreciation to the members of the Kennedy Road community for welcoming me into the community and allowing me to speak with them. I am indebted to M’du Hlongwa for helping me with transport and translation and introducing me to Lungile Mgube. Through her translation, Lungile provided an abundance of information in this text. She also escorted me to Palmeit and Burnwood. For all that she did, I cannot thank her enough. Zama Ndlozu was more than helpful in escorting me to the police station, translating the flyers and translating during the workshop. The welcomeness and warmth I received from these friends, as well as S’bu Zikode and Nonhlanhla Mzobe, was more than I can ever repay.
I am also extremely thankful for the administration at Burnwood, Palmeit, Clareville, and Rippon for being forthcoming with information and time. To Salim Vally, for listening and responding to ideas and questions and providing me with invaluable information, I am truly grateful. To Vanessa Nichol-Peters, thank you for putting in valuable time to read my unwieldy draft. And to Gretchen Young, thank you for helping me sort out ideas and progress. I would also like to thank my advisor, Fazel Khan, for facilitating my introduction to M’du.

Abstract
This year, 2006, many years into the new dispensation, the country is still struggling with racial and class tensions and inequalities. The education structure is situated squarely within this context. Despite having policies specifically in place to allow fee exemptions, the pressure to pay school fees has become extremely burdensome to poor black parents and the learners. Education and access to education can be extremely pivotal in empowering change in communities. Yet, situating access to basic schooling within a financial framework unattainable for some demonstrates an illicit strategy to entrench the poor.
This paper is a case-study of parents and learners in the Kennedy Road settlement that are struggling with the current policies. I will lay out the education development framework and the exemption policies that are intended to provide a transformative education system, contextualizing the situation of school fees and parents financial abilities. Through interviews with the local schools and members of the imijondolo (shack-dweller) community, I will analyze the access to education. Attempting to frame the experiences from Kennedy Road, exploring the local school policies, and questioning how to proceed, will demonstrate how social justice and economic inequalities in relation to education are being dealt with in South Africa. This paper finds that despite the ANC’s utopian pronouncements of democratic participation and attempt to redress inequality, education policy set against these efforts of social justice and economic equality. The school-fee policies, aimed at transformation, are only perpetuating the inequality issues and un-democratic society the ANC declared they would eradicate. Abolishing the fee system and increasing government allocation to all schools in need is the only way to assure pressure is taken off poor parents and children.

Introduction
When the new democratic government came into power in 1994, it was given the daunting task of addressing the deep inequalities and social backlogs apartheid left in its wake. In education, the learning disparities amongst racial groups, including the facilities and the resources, were immense. Necessary declarations of rights to basic education were part and parcel of the new ANC human rights’ agenda. In the negotiations into the post-Apartheid school reparations, a funding model was made to equalize school funding, urge integration, and parent participation. Despite amendments made to the legislation and funding structure, the current system for school funding is heavily dependent upon parents paying school fees. Alongside the user-fee structure, the government set forth exemption policies in order to ease the financial burdens of poorer parents.
This year, 2006, many years into the new dispensation, the country is still struggling with racial and class inequalities. The education structure is situated squarely within this context. Despite the policies for fee exemptions, for the poor black parents and the learners pressure to pay school fees is extremely burdensome. Education and access to education can be extremely pivotal in empowering change in communities. Yet, by situating access to basic schooling within an exclusive financial framework demonstrates an illicit strategy entrenching the poor.
Some critics of the government argue that the difficulty of poor parents to pay fees exemplifies that the macroeconomic strategies of educational funding are perpetuating education inequalities. In order to explore this, I will begin by giving the development of the policy framework, a brief history of the user-fee policies, highlights of the current policies, reviewing some social and human rights’ theory and its violations. This background contextualizes the responses by Kennedy Road parents, learners, and schools administrators, and frames their struggles within a theoretical perspective.
Much has been written and critiqued during the years of the transition, working towards a more equalized system of educational access. Still, little has been changed with regards to the grassroots relationships and plights of the poor. The imijondolo, or shack-dwellers, of Kennedy Road are amongst the poor that are plagued with the burden of school fees. The majority of children in the community attend one of two primary schools, Palmeit and Clareville Primaries, and one secondary school, Burnwood Secondary. This paper centers on educational access of Kennedy Road children and their parents who deal with the financial burdens of school fee policy.
My objectives in this project are twofold. At the macro level, I look to understand the policies, laws, and affirmative rights, how they are taking effect, and to what extent the efforts for social justice and transformation are being approached. How does a society shape its laws and policies to rebuild and sustain its people? Then at a more micro level, I explore the individual struggles of poor parents and what schools are doing or not doing to accommodate to their rights. I hope to show from the perspective of the parents, the extent to which funding policies and corresponding exemptions are in sufficient in making the admission process correspond to the fundamental right to education. Through interviews and a focus-group workshop I was able look into the situation of the Kennedy Road parents– what fees do they pay, do they receive any assistance, their relationship with the principals, etc. I look at the ways in which educational policy addresses the difficulties of poverty and I examine the policies and opinions set forth by the schools—how have the Principals shaped their policies, what kind of access do they provide to the parents to participate, etc. Thus, the body of this paper will begin by framing the Kennedy Road experience, the responses of parents to fees and responses of the children, then will explain the specific school policy from the perspectives of poor community members and the beliefs of parent’s financial abilities, and end by discussing how to proceed with these conflicting struggles.

Glossary of Terms
It is necessary to grasp the following concepts to understand the rest of this paper:
Adequacy Benchmark: Designates the minimally sufficient cost to satisfy an individual learner’s right to
education. For 2006, this amount is R527.
Annual General Meeting (AGMs) : The parent, community, and administrators meeting where budgets
are made and corresponding fees and exemption policies are set.
GEAR and RDP: ANC’s macroeconomic strategies that determine the federal and provincial
responsibilities and monetary allocations for education.
Fee Exemption: The policies that allow parents to be full, partially, or conditionally absolved from
paying fees. Parents are fully exempt if their annual gross income is less than 10 times the annual school fees; they are partially exempt is the income is less than 30 times but more than 10 times the fee. *** There should be automatic exemption should be granted if the learner’s parent is receiving a pension or welfare grant.
Medium Term Expenditure Framework (MTEF): Sets the national budgetary guidelines and allocations
for the provincial departments of education.
Ministerial Review of the Financing, Resourcing and Costs of Education in Public Schools (Review):
The 2002 report on the school-funding regimen.
Model C Schools: As part of the negotiating process, parents were asked to choose between three
models, Models A, B, and C, of integration and school funding. Model A schools would have
made schools completely private, receiving 45 percent subsidy phased over three years. A vote
for Model B schools would have retained the public status, but could admit black students up to 50 percent, maximum, of the enrollment. This is the same as the Model C school. What is different is a vote for the Model C school would have created the so-called ‘state-aided’ school. Seventy-five percent of the budgets for these schools would have been received through state funding, making the remaining 25 percent the responsibility of parents and donors. The majority of parent bodies in white schools voted for the state, or “status quo” schools budget. Yet, government negotiations in 1992 required the status-quo schools and the Model B schools to convert to the Model C structure.
Norms and Standards of School Funding (Norms and Standards): National policies that give regulations for the provincial departments to guide school governance.
Plan of Action for Improving Access to Free and Quality Basic Education (Plan of Action):
Sets out the changes that need to be made to SASA and the Norms and Standards.
Parents: This includes both parents and guardians of learners, including grandparents and caretakers of
orphans.
School Governing Bodies (SBGs): The governing body of a school comprised of the principal, bursar,
parents, and community members.
South African Schools Act 1996 (SASA): For the purposes of this paper, the significant sections
of the Constitution include Section 29 (1)(a), the basic right to education. The policy asserts that no child should be refuse admission whether or not their parent has paid the user-fees. It establishes that the SBGs have the authority to determine the budget, the fees, and the exemption policies. This allows the SBG to determine whether or not the parent qualifies. Also, Section 39 of SASA designates that schools should set fees when the majority of parents at the meeting.
User-fees: Used interchangeably with school-fees, these are the parent-paid fees demanded by the school in accordance with the Norms and Standards.

Background and Literature Review

Brief History of the Practice of User Fees
The Policy Development Framework

In the ANC’s Restoration and Development Program (RDP), the policy framework that included the initial strategies for education and training, visions of redressing apartheid legacies were vividly articulated. The goals were targeted at bringing people out of poverty through an integrated program based on the people’s needs. A preview of the education rights came as the description that “all individuals should have access to education and training irrespective of race, class, gender, creed or age.” The documents cite the state to have “central responsibility in the provision of education and training.” These were the 1994 proclamations that were to frame the education to suit the people.
In his essay “People’s Education for People’s Power,” Bobby Soobraryan explains this slogan that captured the stage and location of the education struggle emerging from the apartheid inequality. For the majority of South African’s, the apartheid educational structures were not only blatantly unequal, but also a system meant to perpetuate the submission of blacks into a socio-economic formation based on oppression, exploitation, poverty, social dislocation and powerlessness. Soobraryan notes that “education is always in the interests of those who are in control…Under Nationalist control education was used to further subservience and oppression. Whereas in the hands of the people, it becomes a weapon for liberation.” People’s Education was a democratic initiative and should be judged according to the reception within the ambitions of South Africa’s majority.
In the initiative of democracy the National Education Crisis Committee (NECC) was created, instituting the research centers in the University of Natal and Witwatersand. Under the NECC, the guidelines of the People’s Education highlight education and politics as “inextricably linked in a manner that the transformation of education should occur within the context of social transformation.” After the repressive instruments of apartheid education, this ‘transformation,’ a nebulous concept for nation-building, must be understood as the restructuring of societal and the economical policy and law in which lives of the poor can be rebuilt and fostered to redress deep-seeded inequity.
After 1994, policy changes occurred, compromising between state and market resources, public and private schooling, and the character of decentralization. In “The South African State in Transition,” Oldfield outlines the role of the state and society in reconfiguring education in a developmental state. She illustrates the complex and dynamic definitions and goals of the apartheid state, transition state, and post-apartheid state. The debates of governance, decentralization, fiscal austerity, and governance hindered on the question of “what degree a ‘facilitative’ or minimalist state can change the stark structural inequalities that lie at the heart of the South African developmental crisis.” Oldfield argues to address South Africa as a developmental state that is neither centrist nor minimalist. Instead, the developmental state should strategically utilize private funding and civil society to serve the whole population of South Africa, addressing the imbalances, inequalities, and economic efforts. The difficulty lies in building the centralized/ decentralized strategy to address the goals of democracy while redressing apartheid inequalities.
Karlsson, Mcpherson, Pampallis highlight that “three of the most commonly stated goals of the post-1994 reforms in education governance have been those of increasing democratic participation in decision making, creating an equitable system of education and improving the quality of education provision.” Prior to 1994, the education system had fifteen different education ministries–one for each of the ten bantustans, one for each of the four officially recognized race groups outside of the bantustans (African, white, coloured, and Indian), and one responsible for the Department of National Education whose task was to set the national norms and standards. This was in fact a decentralized system with each department having its own model, funding formula, and governance, department and parent relationships. Decentralization, or the shift in power to the provinces and the schools, is thought to be a facilitator of democratic objectives; it allows decisions to be made within the people’s reach and power is distributed out of what could be a tyrannical location. At the same time, in the transition the undertaking of the provincial departments of education was the organization of a single provincial system out of the former racially and ethnically based departments that had operated in their territories.
The Interim and the final Constitution and the South African Schools Act (SASA) 1996 were the rudimentary organizers of school control in South Africa. The Interim Constitution, which came into effect in 1993, delineated control between the national and provincial government. While the Department of Education created the national norms and standards, the provincial government was responsible for the systems of implementation. The South African Schools Act delegated many schooling functions amongst individual schools’ governing bodies (SBGs). This was done in the efforts of democracy, which are incumbent upon a people’s education. In the vision of democracy, bestowing funding to school governance bodies was done to maximize the democratic part of stakeholders, including the broader community, and was meant to orient school governance towards equity, effectiveness, efficiency, accountability and the sharing of responsibility. Though this decentralization seems to be ideal in the efforts of democracy, SBG functioning and resources are challenged when they are comprised of apartheid undereducated adults.
At the same time, the ANC government furthered new macroeconomic strategies, which corresponded to the role of the state in education. After giving an $850 million loan, the IMF and World Bank came in to encourage fiscal discipline, liberalization of international markets and private provision of goods and services. In her essay, “The Link between Macroeconomic Policies, Education Policies and the Education Budget,” Katerina Nicolaou asserts that the objectives of equity and democracy driving the initial Reconciliation and Development Plan (RDP) were affiliated with a centralized, interventionist environment. The ANC democratic strategies transformed from the effort to “promote and encourage equality and deal with the wide range of backlogs” to demand for and supply of skills to further the country’s economic growth. Equity should be obliged through state provisions rather than market competition. Indeed, because the RDP was to organize a more equitable distribution of income and social services and for education increase in expenditure was allocated in order to redress the social backlogs. Nicholau points out, however, that there was a shift in government intervention in the original RDP and the White Paper introduced by the Department of Education. This was the beginning of the move from the RDP to the macroeconomic strategy, GEAR. GEAR highlighted a more market-oriented and decentralized approach, increasing the needs of many schools in order to supplement the fiscal restrained government allowance. Reverting to the spirit of the RDP, the Medium Term Expenditure Framework (MTEF) was introduced in 1997 to make amends to the budgetary guidelines of GEAR. It became the policy tool that allocated the amount of state spending for the coming three years and furnished the strategies for the subsequent planning. Still, the neoliberal ideology infused the policy development.
According to their essay “The Rationalization of Teacher and the Quest for Social Justice in Education in an Age of Fiscal Austerity,” Salim Vally and Consol Tleane, point out that human capital theory informs the discourse of the main school policies, including GEAR and SASA. By decentralization in the government and the market cost-cutting strategies, GEAR ‘resuscitates’ human capital theory, relying on the idea that there is a direct correlation between education and economic growth. Vally and Tleane explain that in human capital theory, “education is seen as an investment for the nation in which students and workers are both value-added products and the means by which the economy is to be improved.” Yet, this also means education took the focus of economic growth, rather than democratic strength. That is, by marginalizing redistribution plans, GEAR redirects goals to efficiency and savings, instead of human development. These developmental policies still inform the funding framework for the school and shape the user-fee system, calling into question the efforts of redress and equality. The following section illustrates the structure that brought about the system of funding controls and corresponding user-fee funding.

The Funding Formula
The practice of the user-fees formula began prior to the transition in order to retain white privilege and voices in school control. The negotiations leading up to school structure decisions were inundated with protests, white interest groups staged walk-outs, and with an emerging black middle class argued over accountability and participation on how to organize the budget. As part of the negotiating process, parents were asked to choose between three models, Models A, B, and C, of integration and school funding. Model A schools would have made schools completely private, receiving 45 percent subsidy phased over three years. A vote for Model B schools would retain the public status, but could admit black students up to 50 percent, maximum, of the enrollment. This is the same as the Model C school. The difference is that a vote for the Model C school would create the so-called ‘state-aided’ schools. Seventy-five percent of the budgets for these schools would have been received through state funding, making the remaining 25 percent the responsibility of parents and donors.
The majority of parent bodies in white schools voted for the state, or “status quo” schools budget. Yet, government negotiations in 1992 required the status-quo schools and the Model B schools to convert to the Model C structure. Most Model C schools were historically white schools when the new democratic government gained power in 1994. After the transition the Department of Education debated three alternative funding structures. Option 1 would offer minimal change to status quo funding, while Option 2 would radically equalize per learner expenditure for all schools. Option 3 highlighted parent fees for school funding in order to redistribute state funding to schools in need. International consultants urged a fourth option of equalizing funding to a certain extent, yet making private subsidizing, i.e. school fees and donation, the majority of school funding. The argument was that, without charging fees, the budget would have to double in order to equalize funding to the level of the historically white schools. To further the argument, it was noted that the burgeoning middle class families and wealthy families who denied the option of financial participation would flee the public schools and education funding levels would subsequently diminish. Thus, The fourth option was adopted with the 1996 legislation in the form of South African Schools Act (SASA) and the 1998 administrative guidelines of the Norms and Standards for Public School Financing (Norms and Standards). The charging of fees allowed these schools to disproportionately exclude black children whose parents could not afford the costs. As Karlsson, Mcpherson, and Pampallis point out, explicit racism was no longer tolerated, so ‘school choice,’ or the school admission policy, was situated within a much larger structure of governance and funding, school organization, and the whole of the education system.
SASA and the Norms and Standards set out the fundamental structure for school funding to redistribute state funds and depend on the income of parents and other donators to supplement their shortcomings. Non-personnel costs, facilities, equipment, and learning materials, comprise only about 8-10 percent of a school’s budget. Within the guidelines of the Norms and Standards, the allocations of funds to non-personnel resources is unbalanced, with 60 percent of funds going to the neediest 40 percent of school, in order to redress the inequalities. Nicholau points out, however, that the Norms and Standards cannot expend a large amount because it adheres to the stringent budget of the MTEF. That is, the neoliberal macroeconomic strategy influenced by the IMF and the World Bank requires the federal education budget and provincial school policies to abide by a fiscally conservative framework. For it is the responsibility of the provincial governments to determine the ranking of the school in terms of need. The Norms then set up a resource-targeting table which allocates the percentage of resources of school according to the need quintile, whereby the poorest received 35 percent of non-personnel funds and the richest 20 percent is only allocated 5 percent. The concern in the provincial determination of needy schools is that resources will differ from province to province, allowing inequality to accumulate between parts of the provinces where schools need more funding. The personnel costs comprise 85-90 percent of a school’s budget and are driven by a per learner formula that favors the poor, which is determined by the physical condition of the school and the poverty level of the surrounding community. Under the Norms and Standards, the state determines a uniform, and a national teacher salary on a sliding scale of qualification. It is then the substantial responsibility of the school governing bodies, through fees and private donations, to supplement the funding for both the personnel and non-personnel costs. This perpetuates inequality between schools when supplement in funding is from poor versus wealthy parents.
In the vision of democracy, bestowing funding to school governance bodies was meant for democratic participation. The Norms regulates the question of fees to this administrative body of parents, teachers, community members, and learners. The Norms give numerous choices to SBGs for methods of raising funds, determined at the school budget meeting. In order to accurately assess the financial capabilities of parents, Section 39 of SASA has schools set fees when the majority of parents at the meeting decide to do so. The fees should be determined by ‘equitable criteria’ and include the total, partial, or conditional exemption for parents who are unable to pay. Parents are fully exempt if their annual gross income is less than 10 times the annual school fees; they are partially exempt if the income is less than 30 times but more than 10 times the fee. In theory, schools are prohibited to exclude learners who cannot pay or do not pay. Although learners cannot be excluded, parents can be prosecuted or handed over to debt collectors for failure to pay fees. In the effort to avoid this, the exemption policies should be made clear to parents in the Annual General Meeting (AGM). Many assumptions are made that impede the implementation of these equitable policy efforts, and as I will discuss in the following section, critiques have been made to the policy framework that are part and parcel of these assumptions.

Critiques and Assumptions
In his article in a recent edition of The Mercury, Usha Naidu argues that only a small portion of parents attend the AGMs, skewing the decision making ideology. The meetings, orienting the fee structure and budgetary guidelines, are necessary in order to implement the user-fee policies and corresponding exemptions. Moreover, most parents are not ‘financially savvy’ enough to question the school on the budgetary decisions during the meetings. More and more schools are budgeting in the sports facilities, after-care and homework shelters, none of which have immediate results for the parents paying the fees. The projects are in the light of capitalist development, whereby schools can be more competitive and attractive to parents looking to enroll their children based on the facilities. These types of projects exemplify the growing portion of schools that can look toward the fee system to facilitate economic gain, while many schools need the fees to stay afloat.
In the macroeconomic policies of government, beginning with one of reconciliation, the RDP, and the other more general, have had the effect of subverting democratic movement, especially in terms of policies for equity. As mentioned earlier, Nicolaou demonstrates that because of financial discipline, state expenditure was diminished on social transformation initiatives like education. This notably increases social backlogs by producing inequality in the labor force. In other words, the favoring of privatization within the educational provisions intensifies existing inequalities. Market initiatives can only be constructive when equality has been achieved. While the Norms and Standards does shift funds to the poorer schools, Vally highlights that it only distributes 7.8 percent of educations budgets, which for some is futile. For most schools, poor infrastructure is the norm. While the fiscal discipline constrains the funding for the poorest schools, the situation for a significant number of poor learners is ‘deteriorating.’
At the same time, historically privileged schools can set fees with no limitations. In his essay “Decentralization in the New Education System: Governance and Funding of School in the New South Africa 1992-1997,” John Pampallis argues that SASA paradoxically de- “democratizes” in the effort of democracy. In other words, the decentralization that has led to a greater democratization of schools by giving the main stakeholders, the parents, the influential voice in schools’ affairs, is also contributing to the perpetuation of inequalities among schools. In the negotiations leading up to the school structuring decisions, the groups that sought the more radical changes were less visible and were prone to depend on their new democratic government to champion their interests. Now SBGs can institute significantly higher fees, discriminating against parents that cannot pay. Trends show that parents paying fees will move their children to better resourced schools or even prohibit the enrollment of poor parents, through exemption policies to enter the school. Moreover, the assumptions made as to the capacity of the SBGs to determine the parents’ income and raise funds accordingly was amiss. The question then becomes whether or not the user-fee system is an impediment to the constitutionality of Section 29 (1)(a) of SASA, ‘the basic right to education.’

Constitutionality of the School Funding System
To clarify, though the user-fee system–responsibilities of SBGs, etc.– is inextricably linked with the sustentative adequacy of the school the issue at hand is whether or not the fees ‘restrict or impede the exercise of the right to basic education’. The African Charter on the Rights’ of the Child, signed and ratified by South Africa, requires the government to ‘provide the right to free and compulsory basic education.’ This is the same with the Convention on the Right’s of the Child, also signed and ratified by South Africa. And while Section 29 (1)(a) of SASA grants the basic right to education, it would seem the user-fee system is violating that right. The South African constitution appears conceptually disparate from the ratified international documents in the difference in the term “free.” However, The policymakers argue, however, that in a ‘financially stringent’ government, expenditures to benefit the wealthy would be futile. This system is meant to be the ideal approach in equalizing education. Thus, the argument becomes intertwined with questions of poverty and its consequences on how school supplement government funding.
Policymakers also wrongly assumed that exemption policies would serve to integrate those who cannot afford the high school fees in certain schools to still apply. The burden of fees prevents many parents from even applying to schools. The 1998 Poverty and Inequality Hearings showed that poverty is still a major obstacle in the utilization of the right to education. As Katerina Tomasevski, UN Special Rapporteur on Education, eloquently stated to the government
My most serious complaint against South Africa is that it has not eliminated school fees… It should [be] seen as a means of eliminating institutionalized racism…. The right to education must be linked with other human rights needs–the eradication of poverty and the eradication of discrimination.

Evidence suggests the despite solely violating the rights, it is an impediment to redressing inequalities in as much as it perpetuates them. My fieldwork is a case study of how the exemption policies are fraught with difficulties to not only redress inequalities, but are a mere reflection of the racist and class situation. The following section describes the recent amendments made to the system and discusses the future possibilities.

Government Responses to Critiques
Paradoxically, the same year as the Poverty and Inequality Hearings, the Amendment of the Education Laws Act was made, allowing governing bodies to employ additional teachers with their own financial resources. The state was transferring responsibility to the SBGs for accumulating more personnel resources; this was one of the first amendments, which furthered the school quality gap in the teacher labor market.
In 2002, the government set up a ministerial review team, comprised of members of the Department of Education, as well as economists, to report on the school funding regime. The Department issued the Ministerial Review of the Financing, Resourcing and Costs of Education in Public Schools. It addressed non-personnel funding norms (which only consist of 8-10 percent of the budget), while not addressing the 90-92 percent expenditures on post-provisioning personnel. SADTU, South African Democratic Teachers Union, called into question the formula used to determine allocations to poor school infrastructures and to address the discrepancies in per learner funding. Further, data proposed that parent opposition to fees was only amongst the minority 15 percent, arguing for little dissatisfaction with funding. Thus, the review fails to offer analysis to the fundamental policy issues concerning the inherent inefficacy of the user-fee system and need to abolish the whole system. Instead, the review argues that funding through fees promotes community participation and interest in educational quality. As stated earlier, the funding system, created and perpetuated in assumptions of white and class privilege, demonstrates the current framework for educational change.
In June 2003, after critiques were submitted to the review, the Department of Education issued its Plan of Action for Improving Access to Free and Quality Basic Education (Plan of Action). This became the layout of the changes to be made to SASA and the Norms and Standards. It proposed a complete renovation of the Exemption of Parents from the Payment of School Fees Regulations. In a two-tier framework, the policy complexly distinguishes and arranges a fee system amongst fee-paying and ‘no-fee’ schools. Though the ‘no-fee’ system is a step in the right direction, there are several defects. Key features of the Plan in Action include national rather then provincial quintiles to determine poor schools. The national DOE sets an ‘adequacy benchmark’, which designates the minimally sufficient amount to satisfy a learner’s right to education. The adequacy benchmark is set at R527 for 2006; the poorest quintile will receive an allocation of R703, while the wealthiest quintile will receive R117 to help reach this mark. Unfortunately, the Plan gives a window to evade the no-fee principle by allowing schools to charge fees where the adequate benchmark allocation is not sufficient. While poor schools are struggling to raise fees to reach the minimum, wealthy schools will be able to improve quality of the school; the discrepancies in schools will proliferate. Also, the removal of school fees will only occur in R to 9, not 10 to 12, despite parents’ poverty level. Attendance is currently dwindling because of paying the fees in earlier years. Moreover, charging for the years necessary to matric (graduation) will not help to prepare learners for life, let alone employment.
For the schools that do not qualify for the no-fee schools, the amendments made to the exemption policies hope to protect poor learners more sufficiently than the prior. First, a single compulsory fee must be set to provide for clear exemption criteria and outlaw all registration fees. The amendment clearly articulates that, despite the parents’ ability to pay fees, the learner must not be ‘victimised’ in any way, including suspension from classes, withholding reports, or verbal abuse. The Department also extends the policies to include orphans and parents who receive support grants. The new formula would require the SBG to take into account parents who have more than one child and to calculate the exemption accordingly.
Similar to the Plan of Action, the new exemption policies have the potential of again failing to protect poor parents. Although the new exemption policy takes into account parent’s number of children, it still allocates the power of the SBG to confirm exemption. This could allow the SBG, as it did before, to disqualify parents based on unlawful, such as racism or classism. Moreover, the mathematical and linguistically complex proposed calculations for exemption, as if it was not complicated enough before, will likely baffle the experts. The difficulty of the formula, as did the other, will rely on the SBG to inform parents of the extent to which they are exempted, situating the payments again in a slippery ideology. In other words, the SBGs, already causing poor parents hardships in budgetary determinants, will again have the authority to determine exemptions because of the formula’s difficulty. And still, if the complicated formula is causing problems for the SBG and the principal, they could forego the complexity by simply charging parents more than they are required to pay.
The Parliament passed the Education Laws Amendment Bill in 2006 to make about five to ten percent, about 28, 000 schools, fee-free in this following year. Many schools are still waiting to hear if they qualify. As with the Plan of Action that informs this Bill, the changes to SASA and the Norms are not without deficiencies. The framework for no-fee schools does not clearly define which class of schools will qualify. Information regarding a school’s ranking will be made available through the Government Gazette and on the internet, which severely restricts access for poor households. Moreover, only the poorest of the poor are said to be part of the allocations. This narrow frame of schools disregards the schools that have minimal facilities, yet are still struggling in gathering fees from the poor parent pool. Hopefully, in the near future the qualifications for national fee-free schools will expand, but until then only individual school policies can be altered. The following is a look at the realities of paying for education for poor parents and the learners and how specific schools are dealing with the dilemma.

Methodology
My primary research methodology was semi-structured interviews with Kennedy Road parents and children, three Abahlali baseMjondolo members, and administration officials of local schools. Lungile Mgube, an organizer of the community créche, introduced me to parents and children and served as a translator for the Kennedy Road community members. For four of the interviews, M’du Hlongwa also served as a translator. After attempting to get written permission in the first three interviews, I realized that with limiting writing abilities and that this request could cause unnecessary stress. I proceeded with translated, oral permission in order to ask questions and utilize their information. As was communicated to me with shocked faces and announcements of umlungu, meaning white person, few non-blacks and few outside the poverty group venture into the community of Kennedy Road. Perhaps for this reason, many parents seemed hesitant to talk to me. Yet, others seemed extremely forthcoming and did not hesitate to ask for clothes and food in return. In these cases, I would relay their needs to the development committee. And due to her reaction to the material, I only interviewed one child. Although her mother was present and I had oral permission, I felt that my questions would be too stressful on the informant.
In my interviews with the Principals of Palmeit, Clareville, Rippon, the Bursar of Burnwood, and a woman corresponding between the Palmeit Principal and parents, I attempted to explore their perspectives of the funding situation. I began each interview by giving the principals an abstract of my paper to sign in approval. I also rephrased my questions during the interview to see if I could get different or more accurate answers.
Also, at the end of my last week, I held a focus-group workshop with the parents at Kennedy Road. This was conducted with the help of my translators, M’du Hlongwa and Zama Ndlovu. Along with inviting informants during the interviews, I made flyers to inform more parents of the workshop. During the workshop I showed the parents exemption forms for Burnwood and Rippon. I also wrote out letter templates for parents who are receiving grants and templates for the police station affidavits.

Limitations of Study
Needless to say, the length of time and my energy capacity greatly limited the extent of my study. My data was limited by the amount of people I had time to interview at Kennedy Road. Moreover, the sample of people was not fully representative of the parents in the community. And more importantly, the language barrier limited my ability to understand their full sentiments and opinions in the interviews and the workshop. Though my translators M’du and Zama were extremely strong in their efforts, the limited number of translators at the workshop caused the parents to get impatient. Thus, I received little data from the workshop itself. Moreover, I found that without enough translation the templates were too difficult for the parents to understand and write out.
Moreover, responses include my subjectivity as an interviewer to skew the data. My translators’ subjectivity certainly compounded with my subjectivity. Interview subjectivity also came into play with the school administration. In transcribing interviews, my accuracy was constrained by the bias of framing information in order to achieve certain conclusions. As far as I could, I tried to work against this. Though I was able to interview most of the schools the parents named, there are more schools in the area and, given more time, I would have researched them. Notably, gathering a comprehensive understanding of policy is impossible with four schools. Also, due to my limited information at the time of questioning, I was unable to ask certain questions to Palmeit and Burnwood, which would have been helpful for the workshop. Further, the needs of the schools could have also altered their expressions. Two of the principals tried to asked for my help in getting computers and funding; this could have skewed the information they provided to explain their budgets. Also, as I stated above, a Kennedy Road parent asked me for clothes and food, which might reflect the limitations of accuracy if questions are answered in order for me to provide these things.

Data and Analysis
Attempting to frame the Kennedy Road experience
In Durban, the Kennedy Road imijondolo, shacks made of wood, sheet metal, and the like, cling to a hill overlooking Etekwini College and the city’s main garbage dump. In the shacks, people old to young are able to be close to city opportunities. Yet, this location does not justify the ways of their poverty. Garbage, despite being next to the dump, is strewn between the shacks; cement outhouses, most clearly razed and unused, have above ground drainage systems that the people use for their waste. There are few shacks with electricity and even fewer with water; water has to be fetched from one of the seven taps required for every 1000 dwellers. Alfred Mdletshe describes, “The rooms are hard to live in, and there are no toilets, so the bush around us is full of excrement. When its rains, there’s sewage slush all around. It really stinks.” The living situation of the shack-dwellers is a sobering reality.
Despite the hardships, community members have taken their own initiative to change their situation and provide awareness of their plight. The social movement, Abahlali BaseMjondolo, comprised of surrounding shack settlement members, is struggling against government policies that make rising out of poverty hopeless. Mdletshe describes, “We vote for a party which tells us it is fighting poverty, but look what’s happening… if you are poor, it means you only get poorer.” As Katerina Tomaveski stated earlier, education will be crucial in the fight out of poverty. But like Mdletshe argues of other policies, the current educational system fails to provide access for the poor. In essence, it is allowing the poor to ‘only get poorer.’ The leader of the social movement, S’bu Zikode, articulated the issue with government policy. “They don’t know that the policies don’t apply to us. The people in Pretoria are too high to learn about the experience of the informal settlements.” This is the Kennedy Road community’s plight trying to access education.
There are many primary schools in the surrounding area, but the most affordable are Palmeit Primary and Clareville Primary. Despite the lower school fees of Palmeit and Clareville, parents are struggling to pay or not paying at all. The only secondary school option is Burnwood Secondary, which allows the school to charge unattainable fees for poor parents. Granted, accompanying the user-fee system are the policies of exemption. The following section looks at the parents’ knowledge of the policies.

Knowledge of the Policies
Speaking of his community, S’bu Zikode sees the financial situation and his people’s knowledge of the policies explicitly. “We are so poor, but we don’t know that we are so poor. There is no access to knowledge.” In support of this statement, of the twelve people I interviewed only two knew of the right to education and did not have children. Yet, these rights’ and exemption policies squarely apply to the financial struggles of every person I spoke with. Jabulani Zungu asserts that paying school fees is just ‘too difficult.’ He does know there is someone to ask or apply to for help, but he does not know how to start. In the workshop I held, not one parent knew about the exemption forms for Burnwood. When M’du Hlongwa translated that fees were set at the Annual General Meetings, and that they could arrange meetings with the Principals if these fees are a problem, blank faces stared back. In this case, Usha Naidu’s assertion in The Mercury, that most parents are not ‘financially savvy’ enough to question policies was not confirmed. Many parents do not attend the meetings—they do not know they exist. Further, when I told them that the Principals at Clareville and Palmeit claimed the fees are reasonable and, more so, that most of the parents think this, howls of laughter emanated in the hall.
Speaking to the parents individually I discovered that even if parents were informed, many policies are being violated. Zandile Nxumalo’s daughter was refused access to Burnwood Secondary even when she sent in the affidavit from the police. So too, Nonzukiso’s children had to be sent to the farm in the Transkei when Palmeit would not accept the children without the fees. With the lack of knowledge of children’s rights, schools are restricting the parents and learners’ access to schooling. In the next section, I will show the importance of knowing rights and policies for education access when the parents’ financial situations are so dire.

Payment Capabilities
For these parents’ income yearly allowances to schools is too much, which is evident in their living conditions. All parents I spoke to did not have a substantial or even existent income. Most parents are on grants or pensions. Both Nancy Khebesi and Regina Ntsolo receive old-age pensions of R820 per month. True, this situation was worse before November when she dug through the dump to look for food. But she still has to pay R200 twice a month for Paraffin, R70 a month for insurance, and buy food and other necessities for the 3 grandchildren she supports. Similarly, Regina used to cut up cardboard and sell it to make a living; now she is receiving substantially more. Yet, as Lungile translated, this is “not enough because she has to buy everything with this money.” Even with pensions paying for food is still a struggle—paying for education does not seem feasible. As described earlier, the policies describe that parents of grants or pensions should be automatically exempt from paying. But the both the awareness of this law and the schools’ practice are not present here.
Many of the parents are unemployed or venders living on a pittance. With the exception of one grandmother, all the parents I interviewed had multiple children for which they have to support and pay school fees with this small or absent income. Flora Dlamini tried to negotiate with the principal at Burnwood Primary because she could not pay for both of her children. He asked her to make arrangements to pay R10 a month, but “she can’t even buy groceries.” Because the principal is ‘refusing’ to help by absolving her from the fees, this learner has no access to education.
Cousins Zola Cele and Skhumbuzo Respect Cele stopped being able to pay fees when her brother died and his father died, respectively. She decided to leave Burnwood this year to move to another school in the rural areas. But because she didn’t pay the fees the previous year, Burnwood would not give her the files and reports she needed to transfer. As turned out, she was not able to go to the farm school and Burnwood would also not let her back in without reports. Both these 18 and 23 year olds, know about the right to education; yet, neither one was able to finish their schooling. Skhumbuzo did not know he could access education despite payment. For him, it is too late for him to utilize the secondary school exemption policies. For Zola, to know about these rights are vital when there is no one to pay her fees. What is more, both stated fervently that they would go back to school if they had the chance. All the parents and learners rely that education is a high priority, despite school officials’ reasoning for not paying fees, which I will convey later. The response of the children to school fees, sometimes not outwardly apparent, is important to consider when looking at the impediment to learning.

Responses of the Children
With the exception of Sbongile Khuzwayo, many said that their children like being in school. When I interviewed her, Sbongile Khuzwayo was sitting on her bed that took up one room of the two room shack. When I went back the next week to give out flyers for the workshop, she was still in the same spot. Sbongile, in her late 60s is on a support grant for her leg that is missing. She uses this to support her grandchildren. She had to be in hospital for the amputation when it was time to register her grandchildren, so they registered themselves and she did not pay any money. She talked to the Principal and he said she has to make an affidavit at the police station about her ability to pay the fees, but it is difficult for her to walk. The principal and teachers keep sending messages that the fees have to be paid. She said that her children sometimes attend school without the fees paid, but most of the time they are at home– they are running away from the messages that demand them to pay. This is not literal restriction of the learners’ right to receive education. However, the children’s shame inflicted by paying school fees is enough to impede their right to learning.
S’bu Zikode asked me, “Why are children failing? Its not because they are not clever… They haven’t had any breakfast and then they get to school and they are reminded about how poor they are when they are asked for school fees. Schools don’t believe that the children can’t afford to pay.” Victoria’s granddaughter confirmed this explanation of paying fees effecting children’s learning. Victoria excelled her marks in Burnwood. But because she could not pay the fees and she was pulled out of Burnwood, she is no longer passing. Having children fail as a response to their poverty, will harm their school and personal abilities, affecting their future employment and living opportunities.
Jabulani Zungu thinks his children feel embarrassed or ashamed at the continual prodding by the school. Many of the parents reiterated Jabulani, saying their children’s shame is pronounced. I saw first-hand the shame Zandile Nxumalo’s daughter, Sizwe, is feeling. With the presence of her mother, I stretched my own ethical guidelines. I asked her if she is ever asked for fees. With her nodding confirmation, I proceeded to ask how she this makes her feel. As her tears began to pour, she showed that the reality of poverty, especially as a child, is an experience that extends beyond the ideology of the educational policy. If education officials could experience, as Abahlali attempts with their social movement, the experiences of the poor, no educational facility would allow learning to be restricted.
To ask children for fees– to make them responsible for reporting and give letters to their parents–asks ethical questions. What is clear is that learners are not unaffected by their situation. Still, it is not only the poverty that effecting their learning. In the classroom, children are being inundated with the realities of poverty. As Katerina Nicholeu noted earlier, having students fail will produce an inequality in the labor force. And as with Victoria’s daughter, failing due to shame, will preserve the class divide.
The people I spoke with at Kennedy Road named the local schools, Palmeit and Clareville Primary and Burnwood Secondary, as the schools their children attend. These are the locations where their children are supposed to be learning the thinking and methods with which to live their lives and transform their poverty. The following sections describe the policies of the local schools, exploring the extent to which policies are being adjusted in favor of or against the people of the poor community.

Specific School Policy for a Poor Community
Although there not the formal payment policies, both Palmeit and Clareville strongly urge their parents to pay the R250 and R190 schools fees, respectively. Another local Primary school, Rippon Primary, despite the principal’s arguments otherwise, charges a high R500 for tuition. In comparison to Rippon, Clareville and Palmeit seem reasonable. Like Rippon, the only Secondary school in the area, Burnwood, charges a steep R800. Both Burnwood and Clareville point out that all policies are made within the South African Schools Act, inasmuch as the fees are legally set by the parents at the Annual General Meetings to contribute local participation. So too, are the exemption policies in the attempt to address the needs of the poor. Though Palmeit and Clareville do not have formal exemption policies, meaning forms and calculations to achieve full, partial, or conditional exemption, they assure that with a parent conferences a plan can be made that will suit their financial needs. Rippon and Burnwood, I assume because their fees are higher, have forms and corresponding documents that are needed to qualify for an adjustment of fees.
The Principal at Clareville, A. Bhairoparsad, explains the necessity of requiring fee payment, even in parts, rather than allowing full exemptions.

Now we present two budgets at my school, one is with exemptions, one is without exemptions. And this is a very poor community that we serve. You’ll find that we have the parents agreeing that if everyone pays school fees then the school fees will be cheap. Because the system of exemption is that one is paying for the education of the other. The bottom line is you want the rich to subsidize the poor, because what will happen is, if you subsidize 50 percent of your school, then the other 50 percent will be paying for their exemption. But if everyone puts their shoulders together and say “hey I’m going to make an effort to pay school fees,” then their school fees are going to be reasonably priced.

With this reasoning, communal parent support encourages a better quality school, fulfilling the budget needs, and easing the payments of all the parents. Ideally, parents can come individually and discuss their needs and payment abilities with Principal Bhairoparosad in order to make the system work for their needs.
Similarly, the AGMs in Burnwood and Rippon, parents and the school governing bodies decide to use exemption forms to allow complete charging of fees. Both schools require the SASA form with the calculations, an affidavit from the police station stating their request for exemption, proof of unemployment, an unemployment card, the pay slip for the amount that they are supposed to pay, and another affidavit from the police station stating that they are unemployed. The Rippon Principal, Jenny Adams, highlights that after the governing body looks at all the documents, at the beginning of the year, none have been turned down if they include everything. However, as I illustrated earlier few parents know of these policies nor can they obtain all of these documents. Zama Ndlozu and I experimented with going to the notoriously racist Sydenham Police station to get the affidavit. Of all the people I met throughout my fieldwork, the police were the most unhelpful and condescending. After waiting an hour and asking many people who had no clue what form I was talking about, I was given one double sided sheet. The affidavit, in English, gave little guidance on how it was supposed to be completed. This experience confirmed that although once forms are obtained exemption should be a breeze, obtaining the forms prohibits too many people access.
For Clareville, Palmeit, and Burnwood, the admission of learners is over the limit. Despite the struggling budgets of the schools and their ability to get parents to pay fees, both Maharash and Bhairoparsad assert that they are offering the highest quality education; and that this, not the lower fees, is the real reason why learners attend. Also, according to the administrators, the high amount of learners choosing these schools is that they do not prohibit entrance or take parents to court based on the ability to pay fees. In contrast, Rippon, though they claim to accept all learners and have high class sizes, they are not over the learner limit. Rippon does institute debt collectors on parents who do not pay fees. Although Adams said she receives many children from the informal settlements (which include Foreman Road settlement, also close by), no Kennedy Road parents told me that they send their children to Rippon. This could be because of the high fees and corresponding risk of debt collection. As I noted earlier, Spreen and Vally emphasize the rarity with which poor parents send their children to wealthy schools. Despite emphasizing that repossessions do not occur, few poor parents will apply to wealthier schools with these property risks. This keeps the poor communities condensed to too few schools. With a majority of poor parents, some schools will struggle with budget criteria, perpetuating the disparity of inequality between schools and learners.

Beliefs of Parents’ Financial Abilities
The ‘norm’ for parents, as believed by schools, is that, despite their financial situation, they can afford their child’s education. In other words, a class structure is being perpetuated—an ideology that parents who cannot pay are uninterested in their child’s education. The Bursar at Burnwood, Anbernarthan Reddy, states that even when parents ‘promise’ they will pay, they do not. He clarifies, “I mean, they can afford it but they don’t. In fact, they spend more on the tuck shop.” Many of the school officials touted the term ‘entitlement,’ emphasizing that, because of their poverty parents would choose not to pay, thinking they deserve free services. That is, schools assume parents can afford it but they choose not to pay. Bhairoparsad argues, conversely, that it is wrong for parents to assume that the ANC’s promises of free education should be taken seriously. Indeed, “the government has realized that it fulfill all its promises. So as a result you have got the masses, which are uneducated and they heard ‘free’ and now they expect ‘free.’” As was so clearly displayed to me, unless people are told otherwise they do not know the current policy, it is not that they do not care. Yet, by orienting thinking around parents able to pay creates an ideology framing poor parents as indifferent to their child’s education. This ideology sustains the racism and classism in society education should be eradicating.
In the schools defense, the schools claim to make continual efforts to inform the parents of their payment duties, encouraging them to come to the AGMs and individually see the administration. All the schools send letters home with the children, informing them of the AGMs. “You cannot be oblivious to the law… Your school is inviting you to a meeting and if you are so keen and you can’t afford to pay school fees, etc, you will come and hear your view there. … You have the right to say ‘I cannot afford to pay school fees.’” All the officials stressed that the parents can come discuss their financial concerns. Jenny Adams explains the situation at Rippon Primary:
Yes a lot of parents know about the [exemption policy]. And they don’t go and apply for whatever reason. It may be embarrassment. But I know my parents know about it because they come to the meeting. Not all come, but we send letters home.[Parents] just refuse to pay, they don’t apply for exemption– they wont come near us. We know these parents can afford them. We look at the children; are they dressed in a funny way? With the conditional grants we allow them to not pay until they get a job and then request them to just come and help. Maybe on a Sunday, maybe come and help with marshalling on a work day, then the parents say that they are working. And if they’re working then they should be paying fees. Its an ongoing battle.

Many parents seem to be avoiding them, but the Principals argue that they know the financial struggles– the parents just need to ask. Unfortunately, if the parents do not know these policies exist they will continue in their struggle to pay the fees.
Moreover, as I acknowledged earlier, parents receiving grants should get automatic exemption and numerous parents from Kennedy Road are receiving them. If Adams knew most of the parents were receiving government support, then parents might be able to ease their burden. In Burnwood and Rippon where there are formal exemptions and the fees are high, automatic exemption should be taken advantage of. For Clareville and Palmeit, because they are not offering exemption from fees, it is crucial that the parents inform the Principals they are on grants. Though they may not be able to receive full exemption, explaining to the Principal the difficulty of living on these incomes should ease the struggle.
In contrast to Rippon’s automatic exemption for grants and pensions, however, Clareville Principal Bhairopasad thinks grants are a ‘contentious issue.’ His “concern is that if they are getting this money then they should be obligated to pay school fees. Because part and parcel of the welfare grant is maybe towards their child’s education.” As was explained to me, supporting a family on welfare grants and pensions is significantly more difficult than the Principals think. His urging the parents on small subsidies to pay exemplifies the interpretation of the user-fee policy that could strain the parents’ financial struggle, making poverty transformation nearly impossible.
In the school’s perspective, at the end of the day, despite the parent’s poverty, the budget needs to be fulfilled. The Palmeit Prinicpal describes that even when parents are struggling to pay fees, he “will remind the parents of all the commitments of the school has to pay and we tell the parents that if they cannot pay school fees as a whole then they can come and pay whatever half they can pay.” Bhairopasad urges that these letters and announcements to the children of the schools’ needs are not intended to pressure the parents and the learners, but, instead, to ‘motivate.’ Whether or not the parents’ situation is truly capable of paying the installment fees, a different perspective is told from the parents on whether have been informed of the meetings, funding requirements, and exemption policies. How to proceed to make the parents and the schools work together in this is important to consider.

How to Proceed
The schools and the parents must questions how policy can be brought closer to the realities of the poor. For some schools, no-fee policy is supposedly in the process of being changed. Whether or not schools choose have their fees waived, however, will partly be the responsibility of the parents to urge. Clareville has considered applying. Commenting on the new policies, Bhairoparosad says:
The department needs to do that to all the schools. See the South African government is allowing refugees into the country. See the refugees are allowed to be here as well. Many of our freedom fighters have gained refugee status in other countries. The idea of refugees is entirely acceptable but at the same time you need to encourage your refugees to become active members of the economy.

Yet, Bhairoparosad states it as a necessity for refugee children not the poor learners of his community. By speaking of only the refugees as reasoning to have fee-free schools, he seems to imply his views on the financial abilities of the community. He thinks parents can pay, they just choose not to. As I stated earlier of ‘no-fee’ schools, they still will able to supplement government allocations with fees. If this is the case, Bhairoparosad might still try to get fees from Kennedy Road parents who cannot pay and are not informed of their rights’. Without parents informing him of their financial needs, he will not know that they cannot afford to pay.
The responsibility is then put onto the parents to inform the Principal of their realities in paying fees. In the AGMs, the fees are set and the policies are told, and the Principals are urging the parents to attend. However, the ability of parents to actually respond to these letters and attend the meeting appears slightly outlandish when considering the language factor. With the exception of the Jabulani Lungu, Zola and Skhumbuzo’s knowledge of a few English words, I could not interview the ten other people without a translator. Few of the parents had been educated and few could even sign their names. Yet, every school sends their letters in English. Clareville said they have a Zulu translator in their meeting, but the other schools emphasized English is the ‘medium’ and the meetings will be held accordingly. These are the meetings where the exemption policies are made known, where the fees are set, etc. To expect parents who were unable to receive proper education to know English and, further, to be able to do mathematical calculations to fill out exemption forms, displays the policy’s evasion of the people’s needs. This is notably in opposition to Soobraryan’s description of the ANC’s efforts for the peoples’ education. The Rippon Principal mentioned that “when you’re translating into Zulu it takes up so much more space and so much time.” This seems to say that utilizing space and time to inform the poor of their rights’ weighs too heavily on resources. Makaharash stated, “So far, and I’ve been here for three years, no parent has told me that they have problem with Zulu.” Perhaps if the Principals were told of the parents’ specific needs in translation, more communication and knowledge on rights’ and policy would follow. To bring the Principals closer to the parents’ needs was part of my idea in holding a workshop with the parents. To get the poor access to education, Zulu translation needs to be part of the schedule. To withhold information from the poor through the language barrier is emblematic of the inequalities of education that are being perpetuated.
For the workshop, I wrote out English letter templates for parents who are receiving grants to assure they receive automatic exemption, and other templates for parents who are struggling with payments. I also wrote out in English what the parents should write on the affidavit. All the letters informed the Principal of the struggles with English and asked to initiate communication through a translator. Perhaps, the most productive part of the workshop were the copies of the exemption forms for Burnwood. The exemption policies, that Reddy said everyone knows about, are completely unheard of, which indicates extreme failure in the policies. As I illustrated few parents know or attend the AGM and are consequently suffering with user-fees. If this can be blamed on the parents disinterest and does not enough to encourage policy change, then the childrens’ response should. Abolishing the fee system is only way to assure the pressure being taken off the children, parents, and schools.

Conclusion
As the experiences of the people at Kennedy Road settlement and their local schools reveal, the South African educational policies are ineffective to redress the inequality and encourage a transformation for the future. As I was told from S’bu, the policies do not consider the whole of the South African people. The shack-dwellers can barely pay for food. To ask them to pay for school fees would, needless to say, strain their situation. Their poverty is being perpetuated when these parents need to save money instead of putting their money towards food and water.
Granted, policies for burdened parents do exist. Yet, schools are still restricting the children’s learning. The children’s shame inflicted by paying school fees that is felt by poor children is enough to impede their right to learning. It is not only poverty that affects their learning. Policies inflict stress on children by bringing their poverty into the classroom, indicating failure to redress the inequalities of schools. And as with Victoria’s daughter, failing due to shame, will preserve the class divide when inequality is perpetuated in the labor force.
The AGM meetings, the SBGs, and the structure of the user-fee system are attempting to encourage democratic participation. Instead, however, they are financially, mentally, and physically burdening poor parents not participating in governance. Following the policies set forth by the government, the schools determine fees and exemptions in the AGMs. The schools argue that they struggle for the parents to discuss their finances with them and to figure out a plan that works. Regardless of the community pool, the schools need the parents to supplement the small government allocation. With the risk of rejection and debt collection, poor parents will not send their children to wealthier schools. Still, the fees at the schools they are attending should be able to accommodate their financial abilities. The exemption policies, that Reddy said everyone knows about, are mostly unheard of in the Kennedy Road community, indicating failure in the policies themselves. Moreover, to get the poor access to education, Zulu translation needs to be enforced. To withhold information from the poor through the language barrier is emblematic of the inequalities of education.
As I illustrated few parents know or attend the AGMs and are consequently suffering with user-fees. If this should be blamed on the parents’ disinterest, as the administration urges, and is not enough to encourage policy change, then the responses of children should be. The democratic efforts, having SBGs set the fees, situates the ability of school supplements in an unequal setting. If the schools do grant exemptions for all the learners in their surrounding poor community, the schools will struggle to fulfill budget criteria. The disparity of school wealth will be exacerbated. Further, if the principals and SBGs have the opinions of Bhairoparosad in parent financial ability, they will still urge the parents to pay the fees and strain their finances. As I noted, his theories about welfare grant exemption and some no-fee schools indicate his thinking about parents’ ability to pay the fees. Abolishing the fee system and increasing government allocation to all needy schools is the only way to assure pressure taken off the parents and children.
Education is argued to receive the largest portion of the national budget, despite the recent decreases in 2006/7. Still the distribution and the policies needed to supplement it are enough to question the priority of redressing and transforming inequality. With the government’s macroeconomic agenda, learners and parents in poor communities are suffering to pay these fees and receive their right to education. If schools are to be part of the transformation, policy needs to be changed to allow access to the poor. The Kennedy Road shack-dwellers need to be eased of the burden of paying school-fees. As of right now, 14 years into the new ‘democratic’ government, the inequalities and silencing of the poor are being preserved through the school-fee policy and, needless to say, it should not continue.

Recommendations for Further Study
• A complete focus on school policy, including attendance at the AGM, interviewing school governing body members and officials at the school. Meetings with Department officials at both the Provincial and National level would be ideal.
• A more thorough study of parents’ relationships with schools. Perhaps doing a workshop on fee policy at the beginning of the study, then through participant-observation investigating how the parents follow through with letters and forms.
• A deeper study into parents’ opinions of government responsibility in grants and education. What should the government do for their children and what should the money be for?
• The role of the Principals in developing school policy.

Bibliography of Interviews
Personal interviews in chronological order
1) M’du Hlongwa- April 5, 2006
2) S’bu Zikode- April 19, 2006
3) Nancy Khebesi- April 19, 2006
4) Jabulani Zungu- April 19, 2006
5) Regina Ntsolo- April 19, 2006
6) Zandile Nxumalo- April 19, 2006
7) Daughter Nxumalo- April 19, 2006
8) A.K. Maharash (Palmeit)- April 24, 2006
9) Anbernarthan Reddy (Burnwood)- April 24, 2006
10) Zodwa Maduna- April 21, 2006
11) Flora Dlamini- April 21, 2006
12) Sbongile Khuzwayo- April 21, 2006
13) Zola Cele- April 21, 2006
14) Skhumbuzo Respect Cele- April 21, 2006
15) Victoria- April 21, 2006
16) Nonzukiso “Agnes”- April 21, 2006
17) S’bu Zikode- April 29, 2006
18) Nonhlanha Princess Mzobe- April 29, 2006
19) Jenny Adams (Rippon)- May 2, 2006
20) S. Bhairoparsad (Clareville)- May 2, 2006

Bibliography of Written Sources

African National Congress (ANC). 1994a. The Reconstruction and Development
Program: A Policy Framework. pg. 4. Pretoria: ANC.

Article 11, Section 3(a). South Africa signed this Organization of African Unity
document on October 10, 1997, and Ratified it on January 7, 2000.

Karlsson, Jenni, Gregory Mcpherson, and John Pampallis. “A Critical Examination of the
Development of School Governance Policy and its Implications for Achieving Equity.” 139-177. Education and Equity: The Impact of State Policies on South African Education. Sandown: Heinemann Publishers, 2001.

Motala, Enver and Pampallis, John. “Educational Law and Policy in Post-Apartheid
South Africa.” Education and Equity: The Impact of State Policies on South
African Education. Sandown: Heinemann Publishers, 2001.

Naidu, Usha. “Schools are like Businesses,” The Mercury. February 7, 2006.
http://www.themercury.co.za. 06/06/25.

Nicolaou, Katerina. “The Link between Macroeconomic Policies, Education Policies and
the Education Budget.” 53-104. Education and Equity: The Impact of State
Policies on South African Education. Sandown: Heinemann Publishers, 2001.

Oldfield, Sophie. “The South African State in Transition: A Question of Form, Function,
And Fragmentation.” 32-52. Education and Equity: The Impact of State Policies on South African Education. Sandown: Heinemann Publishers, 2001.

Pampallis, John. “Decentralisation in the New Education System: Governance and
Funding of School in the New South Africa 1992-1997,” 1998. Democratic Governance of Public Schooling in South Africa. Durban: Education Policy Unit, 1998.

Roithmayr, Daria. “An Overview of User Fee History and the Regulatory Framework,” The
Constitutionality of School Fees. Issue Paper 1, Sept. 2002: http://www.erp.org.za/htm/issue1-2.htm. 5/4/2006.

Roithmayr, Daria. “The Constitutionality of School Fees in Public Education,” The Constitutionality of School Fees. Issue Paper 1, Sept. 2002: http://www.erp.org.za/htm/issue1-2.htm. 5/4/2006.

Soobrayan, Bobby. “People’s Education for People’s Power,” 1990. Democratic Governance of Public Schooling in South Africa. Durban: Education Policy Unit, 1998.

Spreen, and Vally, Salim. “Education Rights, Education Policies, and Inequality in South
Africa.” IJED. (Not Yet Published).

Vally, Salim and Tleane, Console. “The Rationalization of Teacher and the Quest for
Social Justice in Education in an Age of Fiscal Austerity.” Education and Equity:
The Impact of State Policies on South African Education. Sandown: Heinemann
Publishers, 2001.

Vally, Salim. “Entrenching or Eradicating Inequality? Understanding the Post-Apartheid
State through its adoption and revision of the ‘User-fees’ option for School
Financing.” IJED. (Not yet Published).

Veriava, Faranaaz and Wilson, Stuart. “A Critique of the proposed amendments on
school funding and school fees,” Quarterly Review on Education. Vol. 6, No. 3,
Sept. 2005: Center for Applied Legal Studies.

Appendix 1
Resourcing targeting table based on conditions of schools and poverty of communities_
School Quintiles,
from poorest to least poor Expenditure allocation (percentage of resources) Cumulative percentage of schools Cumulative percentage of non-personnel and non-capital recurrent expenditure Per learner expenditure indexed to average of 100
Poorest 20% 35 20 35 175
Next 20% 25 40 60 125
Next 20% 20 60 80 100
Next 20% 15 80 95 75
Least poor 20% 5 100 100 25

Appendix 2
Calculations for full exemption:
If annual gross income is < 10 x annual school fees full exemption Gross income (ex. R190/month Welfare Grant) R2280 School fees (ex. Burnwood Fees) R800 x 10= 8000 Conclusion R2280 < 8000 --> Full exemption
2006 Proposed Formula for Calculating a parent’s entitlement to a full exemption:_
[(E=F+T+fyo)], [——–] / [I] > [10%], [( Y+ yo)].
The Plan of Action define what each letter stands for as follows:
E per learner expenditure by parent in a school;
F annual school fees charged to any parent in the school;
T additional monetary contributions explicitly demanded by the school;
f the lowest of the following three values; first, the adequacy benchmark for the current year, second, the average fee charged to the parent in the school, and third, the avergage non-discounted annual fees charged in other schools;
yo the number of learners in other schools;
Y the number of learners for which a parent is charged annual school fees in the current school;
I combined gross income of parents;
10% and is of the gross income spent on education.

Appendix 3
Principal and Bursar Survey Instrument
How long have you been the prinicipal here?
If its calculated or determined, how does the school rank in terms of passing students? poor to wealthy schools? Do you think you are receiving adequate subsidy for this?
How do families choose Palmeit/Burnwood?
How many learners apply?
How many children can you admit?
How many students do you have from Kennedy Road?
What are your school fees? What are your enterance fees?
Do you speak to the families about fees?
How do speak to families about fees? How do you speak to them?
How are the fees determined?
Do you exempt children who cannot pay the fees? How do you determine who will be exempt or partially exempt?
Do you distribute copies of fees policies/exemption policies?
Do you ever take families to court? Why?
Does your school ask for the fees of the children who are not paying? How do they do this?
In a family, what if one child can pay and the others can’t would you prohibit the brothers/sister from entering?
Do you have any programs that provide uniforms or arrange transport?
Burnwood: A child has left school because she was going to go to a school on a farm. But because she had not paid fees the year before she left and thus was denied her reports, she was not able to go to the farm school. Would she be able to come back to Burnwood?
Have you ever considered having your fees waived?

Parent Survey Instrument
How long have you lived at Kennedy Road? Where did you stay before that? Why did you come here?
Tell me about your childhood. Were you able to attend school?
In what ways has education helped you in your life?
How do you make an income?
Are you able to afford school fees for the school your child wants or should attend?
What school does/should your child attend?
Has a principal or another person ever told you about not having to pay school fees?
Do you know how to apply for exemption?
Are there any other financial barriers preventing your child from going to school?
Besides the fees, what else is making schooling difficult?
What steps will you take to make sure your child gets into school?
Would you need assistance? What types of assistance?
Do you have the number to the school?
Have you spoken to the principal?
Did they charge you registration fees?
Are you on welfare grants?
Palmeit: Have you ever spoken with Princess?

Child Survey Instrument
What do you like to do everyday?
What do you think children your age should be doing?
Who pays/paid your schools?
Does anyone at school ask about your parents or guardians?
Do your friends live in the shacks?
Do you ever talk about money with your friends? Paying for school?

Appendix 4: Transcribed Personal Interviews
(Numbered according to bibliographical chronology)

Kennedy Road Community Members

April 19, 2006
1) S’bu Zikode: “We are so poor, but we don’t know that we are so poor. There is no access to knowledge. God likes us all. What makes us say that god wants us to be poor? The very reason that we’re poor is because we look poor. We work very hard. The very same reason we are dying everyday is what is making someone else very rich.
They don’t know that the policies don’t apply to us. The people in Pretoria are too high to learn about the experience of the informal settlements. We want them to see what we see, feel what we feel. We want to teach you about the poisonous air we breathe. How are we supposed to fit ourselves into the freedom charter? Into the constitution?”

April 29, 2006
18) S’bu Zikode: Why are children failing? Its not because they are not clever. They haven’t had any breakfast and then they get to school and they are reminded about how poor they are when they are asked for school fees. Schools don’t believe that the children can’t afford to pay. I don’t know about Palmeit, because my children attend Clareville and Burnwood. Burnwood is the only secondary school in the area so they can charge too high fees.

17) Nonlanhla “Princess” Mzobe
SS: The prinicpal at Palmeit says that you are involved a lot at Palmeit.
P: See parents don’t care about their child going to school. I call parents about giving what they have to help the poor school. Any small payments they can make can help. Parents don’t even go to the meetings. When we have a governing body meeting we try to organise the parents and they say things like ‘we can’t go, its an Indian school.’ And we tell them its important they go to the meetings because thats where we decide on school fees and you learn about not paying if you don’t have the money.
SS: How do you find the parents?
P: There is a teacher who likes blacks so much. See most of the children are from Kennedy Road. Few indians are left at Palmeit. Parents really don’t care. I go house to house trying to get them to come to meetings. During elections…I became an SBG member, but then I had trouble because my child wasn’t going to school there. But now that he is again I can go again. Except I didn’t go to the meeting this year because I was so big with my baby.
SS: How are the SBG meetings?
P: I was rude at the last one. See some Apartheid teachers were hitting the blacks saying their brains are twisted like their braids.
SS: Did you discuss the fees?
P: You cant bother the children, because if there is no money, there is no money. How can they pay? The school must raise the funds with beauty contests and stuff. Before they wouldn’t let the children if they couldn’t pay, but they’re good now they will take the kids.
SS: Why now? What changed?
P: They organize thing– dance, swings– everything is good. Last year it was supposed to last 3 to 5 days but only 2 because of rain.
SS: How often do you talk to the school then?
P: If they want something they will call.
SS: How many children go to Palmeit?
P: More than 800…. Letter to principal would be helpful because they never explain to principal that they can’t pay, they just continued to be bothered.

Parents (including Grandparents and Guardians) of Learners at Kennedy Road

3) Nancy Khebesi (60s) #5907
How long have you been living at Kennedy Rd? 10 yrs.
Attended school? She never attended school (couldn’t sign her name for permission to interview.)
Income? Receives R820/month for pension since last Nov.; before that she dug through the
dump to look for food.
What are your expenses? Twice a month for Parafin, R200/month, R70 insurance
Three Grandchildren: (before none were paying school fees)
1) Akhona: (standard 10) still doesn’t pay- everyday she say she needs the money the money the money, at the end of the month she needs the money to get the reports
~the teachers will take the reports and still ask for $- the child is responsible for telling the teachers about her grandmother having no $
2) Bonkosa- R250, she can afford to pay for Palmeit Primary monthly R50; R60/month transport
3) Tatu: (grade 1) given to aunti
Has anyone ever told you that you don’t have to pay? no
What could I do to help you get children into school? She needs someone to buy the lunchboxes,clothes and food
Principle told her about not paying school fees

4) Jabulani Zungu (mid 30s)
How long have you been living at Kennedy Rd? Since June ‘94
Attend school? Never went to school
Income: He and wife not working
How many children? Eight children- 2 work and 6 in school
How do you pay for school fees? “too difficult” (he doesn’t pay)
They still go to school without paying: “Yes I went to school to explain my problems and
the Principal was understanding. But they are still saying they need the paper.” They are
still asking for money. Doesn’t go to school to discuss, just ignores the paper. “They don’t ask everyday.”
Which schools do your children attend? 2 @ Palmeit Primary school: R250 each and uniforms The two boys are in high school (Burnwood).
Is there anything that I/somebody can do to help you concerning fees? “I need the help- but I
don’t know how to apply for the help”
He thinks his children feel embarrassed or ashamed at the continual prodding.
Is there anything else you want to say about school fees? “I can ask, if you can, how can I get
help”

5) Regina Ntsolo (50s) #1649
How long have you been at KRd? 8years
Attend school? No
How many children do you have? Two children: standard 1 and 5: Clareville Primary
Income? Pension for 4 yrs–not enough because she has to buy everything with this money.
Before she cut up cardboard and sold it.
Are they paying school fees? Yes 190R is hard to pay. She didn’t actually pay the fees this year
because “she got no money.”
Did someone tell you or did you fill out forms so you didn’t have to pay? She paid half, half, half but this year she will pay in Sept. No forms, just didn’t pay– teacher continually send the
letter that says she has to pay more.
She hasn’t done anything about the letter, if she gets the money then she will pay.
Is there anything anyone could help you with? She doesn’t want any help
How do your children feel about not being able to pay the fees? They feel ashamed cause other
babies can afford to pay the school fees

6) Zandile Nxumalo #5890 (mid 30s) **needs clothes and food
How many children? 3 Palmeit for 2 yrs they haven’t paid, still bothered with fees
What school do they attend or want to attend? Sizwe (st.6, 15yrs) attending school was refused access to Burnwood– sent affidavit to police and they still wouldn’t take
him, now he goes to Bonella (R150) and pays R4/day for transport
Did you speak to the principal? He (Burnwood) told them “all mommies will send babieswithout $ if he takes the baby.” “She sends the baby to the school without the money.”
Principal (Palmeit) phones/sends letters for fees- Zandile say that they will send money
when they can-
Principal has not informed about exemption

7) Sizwe Nxumalo (9yrs)
Have teachers ever ask you for fees? (Nods)
How does this make you feel? Ashamed (she begins to cry and the interview stops).

April 21, 2006
10) Zodwa Maduna (late 20s?) #384
How long have you lived at KRd.? 9yrs
Attend school? Yes
How many children? 4 children- one died diseased, 8, 6, 3
What school do they attend? Palmeit Primary-
Are you paying school fees? not paying
Have you spoken to the Principal? Have not. She talked to one of the ladies who is working in the school to tell the principal- still asking children
Income? She has no money for food
Do they ask for school fees? after R50 registration fee/each child balance for fees still standing
How do they ask for school fees? sent letter three times this year. Yesterday (April. 20): made a class announcement “anyone who hasn’t paid has to pay”
Children talk about how they feel after this? she feels bad

11) Flora Dlamini (50s)
How many children? 2 children
Attend which school? Burnwood
Source of Income? “She tries because she is a vender.”
Are you paying fees? She afforded to pay for one child
Have you spoken to the Principal? Tried to negotiate with the prinicpal that she won’t pay for one, but he said no she has to pay for both. He asked her to make arrangements to pay R10/month, etc. but she can’t even buy groceries.
-Thus, the one child stays home (gr. 7 st. 8) because “principal is refusing”
She thinks the Burnwood principal is wrong in what he is doing- her children attended Palmeit Primary and the prinicpal allowed her to pay for one and school there.
How does your child respond to this? The other child would like to attend school- if it
happens that she could go back to school she would
How do you get uniforms and transport? She was once helped by another Indian by the name regie, he was paying for the children, buying them school uniforms, but she doesnt know what happened– he just stopped

12) Sbongile Khuzwayo (60s) 410
How many children? 2 grandchildren- 9 and 11
Which school do they attend or want to? Palmeit Primary
Income? She receives no income from parents
Paying fees? She is the one that pays the fees- she took them to school and they were registered but she hasn’t paid any money.
Attending? The principal or the teachers were sending messages that they have to be paid,
but because she had to be in hospital for the amputation (one leg, up to knee) she
says that they must stay at home. They sometimes attend but most of the time they
are at home– they are running away from those messages that they have to pay.
Uniforms and transport? ask ppl and walk
Is there anything we could do to help the children? She talked to a social worker at Clare Hospital and she transfered her to Durban social workers, they said its not their job to help her, waiting for welfare to help her.
Have you spoke to SBGs or principal about letting the children into school? yes she did talk to the Principal and he said she has to make an affadavit at the police station, but its difficult for her to walk

13) Zola Cele (18yrs) 425
When and where did you attend school? Left Burnwood this year to move to another school but because she didn’t pay the fees the previous year, they wouldn’t give her her reports. She wasn’t able then to go to the farm school.
Spoke to Principal? Went to talk to the secretary and they told her to come back with parents, but parents live on the farm.
Income and paying fees? Stopped being able to pay fees when her brother died
Response? Very willing to go back and repeat a year. Most of her friends at school are poor and cannot pay.
Knew about the right to education but didnt know who to talk to about it, thought her mother would take care of it.

14) Skhumbuzo Respect Cele (23yrs) #425
When and where did you attend? Left Chesterville school in 2004(?) because father died and couldn’t pay for transport.
Income and paying fees? he didn’t try to go to another school cause he had no one to support him.
Why Chesterville and not Burnwood? Father thought closer schools were too expensive so
father said he would pay the money for transport.
Response? now he wants to go back to school
Knew about right to ed. but didn’t know who to talk to about it

15) Victoria (50s) #440
How many children? 1
Where did/do they attend? Child started at the creche then went to Palmeit Primary then sent to Centenary. She passed St.7 after she found out she can’t afford paying R800 after R50 entrance fee. Took her to Inanda (black school instead of a multi racial school) where the fee is R180.
Child’s response? She has failed a grade up until she was pulled out at grade 10, now in 11
Has she ever been told about exemption? No
Has she tried to talk to the principal at centenary? Yes. Fees must be paid no matter what.
Know about right t education? She didn’t know every child has a right to ed. but now she knows something- “so thankful.”

16) Nonzukiso “Agnes” (early 30s) #440
How many children: 2 children–13 and 15,
Which school did they attend? Were going to Palmeit primary but left cause they couldn’t pay. Paid half until ‘99 then they went back to farm
Speak to principal? He said she must have the money so they went back to farm in transkei.
Heard about right to education? She didn’t know about the law. (Asked M’du to explain rights)

Interviews with Principals and Bursar of Schools in the Kennedy Road Area

April 24, 2006

8) Palmeit Primary Principal: A.K. Maharash
Principal: What they told us at the regional meeting we attended this year is that the interviews, to press and to whoever is not our responsibility. Our main job is to run the school. Any information that anyone requires generally has to be given from the education department. The education department in KZN employs a PLO for that party in government and what they told us was that in the event of information that goes out to the press and they become aware that company ‘x’ said that– we can be charged for misconduct. That is what they told us. So now the purpose of this research, I see now that you give me the right not to answer the questions and so on… in a lot of ways I would like to help you with your research because I am also a student who believes in you researching and getting information. Basically this is what my doctorate thesis is all about.
Tell me did you go to any other schools in the area?
Saren Stiegel: Yes I will be going to Burnwood.
P: Ok then lets proceed with the interview and I have the option to remain anonymous.
SS: How long have you been the Principal at Palmeit and where were you before?
P: This is my third year. Before that I was in Bonella, Cato Manor.
SS: How do you think this school ranks in comparison to Bonella?
The economic type of the parents, at Kennedy Road and Bonella is the same because they are educating learners from the informal settlement as well as low socially economic people. The educating is very very similar.
SS: Do you think families are drawn to Palmeit and Bonella because its cheaper? Why do you think they choose the school?
P: If you look at Palmeit, many children are coming here because we are offering quality, in terms of our education. Because here the product of our learners, who are not necessarily from the area itself are coming here because, obviously one is the fee factor, and two is that they can see that from time to time we are basically on the upward mobility.
SS: How many learners apply each year?
P: This year we had quite a bit, I don’t know the actual figures. See now how we judge our learners is that the ones that go out are generally in the grade seven, so last year we had about 50 learners out so if 50 go out that means, without anyone else, we’re supposed to have 320 learners. But this year we have about 405 learners, so obviously we got about fifty more learners. Approximately I would say, about 1500 learners came in in 2006.
SS: Do all the children pay fees?
P: You see the school fees policy is a very tricky situation, because we have a monthly meeting where we set our school fees, right? Now when I came here I adopted a very simple policy is that, where those people who don’t pay school fees are achieving, (signals to Lungi), you see she knows now, we do not hand over to debt collectors or other collection agencies where people have to go and confiscate or take the TVs and what have you to get the school fees. We don’t do that. But we make an appeal to the parents with letters that they have to pay the school fees.
SS: Do you ever approach the children about paying?
P: No no we never approach the children. At our assemblies we make announcement about paying the school fees. We send a letter at the beginning of the year to the parents to tell them how they can pay the school fees. Maybe its R50 a month, or R20/ month or a R100/month. Whichever way they can afford to pay. So we have a meeting with the parents and then we need to follow that up with letters to the parents.
SS: What do you do if the parents say they are not able to pay fees?
P: See the parents who cannot pay, they normally will come and see us. Then obviously we refer that to the governing body. But like I said in the beginning, it is very typical if the parents can’t pay we don’t use collection agencies. At the same time the parents come and tell me that they can’t pay the school fees, I will remind the parents of all the commitments of the school has to pay and we tell the parents that if they cannot pay school fees as a whole then they can come and pay whatever half they can pay. See because the subsidies that we get from the department, obviously, is not enough for us to run the school properly and thats where the governing body comes in. We supplement the government subsidy with fundraising and so on.
SS: Do you have any exemption policy or forms people can fill out or is it just by conversation?
P: The exemption policy is part and parcel of the school. We all know it. But if we have for example, a 100 learners coming from an informal settlement and if all 100 apply for fee exemption, they still have to come to school. So what we have said is that we understand your economic plight is low but we make an appeal to them to give something to our school fees. Because at the end of the day, if all the learners apply for an exemption from school fees, whatever subsidy we get from the department is not going to allow us to run the school in terms of telephones and so on. So we need to make an appeal, that we know your economic plight is bad but if you want your children to get quality then obviously you have to pay. Someone has to pay for it.
SS: What if one child in a family can pay and one cannot, will you accept both children?
P: Yes we do. You see the learners get the letters and we obviously inform them of the amount they owe is so much… if they can’t afford to pay the school fees we give them ideas on how to go about getting the school fees for us. They can go to the churches, they can go to the business houses, so instead of saying “I can’t pay” they can ask somebody. There is a lot of people obviously that can sponsor them. For a lot of parents, people came in and paid school fees in order to sponsor. At the school and educators, we go out into the communities and businesses houses and say “we need your help.” So you see, we might not get lots of money, but we may get some.
SS: Are the letters in ways of being creative, are they in English or Zulu?
P: Most of our letters, we send them out in English. The reason is that, well, I know that some of them may not understand English, but most of our parents will understand English. The reason is that we are 12 years down from philosophy, most of them will understand. And all the children that come to school, they know English. So obviously now the form of communication and the learners of our school fees is in English… yeah but I don’t think our parents have a problem with the language. So far, and I’ve been here for three years, no parent has told me that they have problem with Zulu.
SS: So are there forms for your exemptions? You see, we send letters home for the parents. What we do is that every child gets a letter, each teacher has there own ways of reminding them. Every learner is supposed to have a portfolio and in that file we keep all the assessments and so on. The teachers keep letters in the file and the students give a letter to the parents. So thus far we havent had a problem. If we send a note that we want to see the parents, the parents usually come. We have our governing body members and if there is a problem we ask them to go take a look at the parents.
SS: Who is part of the governing body?
P: Parents. Most of them, all of them.
SS: What is the racial breakdown?
Its mixed.
SS: The R250 school fees– they reflect all the financial levels of the parents?
P: You see R250 for the whole year, if you look at it, you can’t get it anywhere cheaper than that. The returns of school fees varies, in 2004 we had 60% return. Because generally our collection rate is very good. The parents realize that the children that are coming here they are getting something in return. In the parents meeting we tell them that if you can’t afford the fees you go out and ask someone else. With R250 being so little many people are very responsive. We at the school dont hear that they cant afford the fees and just leave it. We ask people. We are very creative.
SS: For poor people living at Kennedy Road, still struggling with the fees, is there anything you can do for them?
P: If the parents can’t pay the fees then they must come to me. Whats important here is that if they can’t afford to pay the fees we are not going to go and take them to court. So now its basically up to the parents to know that we have these things to pay for, we have the budget meeting.
SS: Communication seems to be struggling because parents can’t walk or they don’t have the phone numbers…
P: See every letter we send out has the phone number
SS: Can I have a copy?
P: No I would have to check with the department.
P: Princess comes and communicates problems with the commitee.
SS: Transport and uniforms?
P: Uniforms we have basic white dresses and school ties. No programs for uniforms. I would like to have every child wearing a tie but unfortunately if they can’t afford it. This year we made arrangements with a man who drives a taxi and he brings over the learners. Otherwise the parents have to make their own arrangements.
SS: If they’re far, they would have to pay extra for that?
I suppose so.
If the children are orphans?
P: See at Palmeit we are very unique. We are a step ahead of most people. If the parents are not around, we have Princess there and the drop in center. We make arrangement that way. We dont say if you cant pay school fees you cant be accepted. The lines of communication is always open. We get a lot notes from the community and we deal with the issues at hand. The parents are aware that they are free to come here and talk. And most of them do. Parents come first– thats my policy. Whether they pay the fees or not– they still get quality education. We are not compromising that. The ones who can afford the school fees will pay and the ones who cannot will not pay, obviously. We are coming from a struggling area where we had nothing. But are pride is in educating our people. It doesn’t matter if they are underpriveleged whether they are educated. They must be educated. They need more education then anyone else. The under priveleged ones– we need to hold them by the hands and educate them.

9) Burnwood Bursar: Anbernarthan Reddy
Saren Stiegel: How many learners come to Burnwood?
Bursar: 1230
SS: Do you ever deny learners because they can’t pay school fees?
B: No, no, no. (of course not tone)
SS: Do you have exemption policies?
B: Yes, stated by the department, you know.
SS: Do you have copies of those forms? Can I get them?
B: Yes we do have. Yes I can give them to you.
SS: How do you discuss this with the parents?
B: You see if they can’t afford to pay, they come in with learner and we’ll get them the forms and they will fill out the forms. Then the Principal will present that to the governing body and they will decide whether you get 80, 100 percent.
SS: And is that all included in the form?
B: Yes.
SS: How many families are not paying?
B: Its a lot, ey. But just to show you roughly, (shows me the list, or book, of outstanding balances). See Grade 12, this one has 2000, but the school fees are only 800. See 1-5, 1-6, its more than one year, its two year, three years, this is going on. If you look at it 2-7.
SS: So how do you approach the parents?
B: We approach them and they promise us they will pay and you see, the balances will go up. Some of them can, you know that? I mean, they can afford it but they don’t. In fact, they spend more on the tuck shop. They are having money to spend at the tuck shop on a daily basis.
SS: But if they seriously cannot pay?
B: Then they apply for the exemption.
SS: How do they know how to apply?
B: When we have the annual general meeting (AGM), we tell them about it; we inform them. And when the Principal send letters out, he tells them of the exemptions as well. They know, its been done over and over again every year.
SS: How are the fees determined?
B: Determined by the governing body. Its according to the budget.
SS: The forms, are they in English or Zulu?
B: Its all in English.
SS: What happens if they don’t speak English or read?
B: Its an English medium school. Its all in English. They will explain it even if they speak Zulu. Its an English medium otherwise you wouldn’t be here.
SS: But is it really the parents fault if they haven’t had English education?
B: Well the children here will understand. Seven to twelve- they will understand and explain.
SS: Do you ever deny students their reports?
B: No, no, no, we give them their reports even in grade 12. They will come and collect them. Their certificates, they will come and collect their results sheets.
SS: If a child has missed a year of school because she couldn’t pay the fees and was denied her reports, could she come back?
B: Yes they will take you. Even if you missed a year.
SS: Does it always have to be a parent that registers the child? Or can a child register themself?
B: See in grade 8 this year, if you are coming in for the first time… at the end of the first year, second year, third year– you are already in our system. You are no more new. Come in with your guardian or your mother.
SS: If one child cannot pay the fees and a brother or sister can, is there a system that works with that?
B: Yeah yeah yeah they can.
SS: Do you have any programs that provide uniforms or transport?
B: No, what you mean? They have to provide your own uniform. We don’t sell or manufacteur them. Company makes them. No, they buy bus tickets. There are schools near where they are living but they choose to come here.
SS: Why do you think families choose Burnwood?
B: They don’t only come here. They choose other schools as well.
SS: Why do you think they come here; Is this a better school?
B: Other learners in the family were here maybe. An d they follow that. They like to come here.
SS: How does the school rank in fees?
B: We are, in fact, low. We have the Annual General Meeting and we didn’t even change the fees. It was about 600 for three years. We keep them the same but we can’t keep it that way year in and year out. Everything goes up. You have different policies and the politics, they want to fund certain schools and not others.
SS: How does the school rank in terms of matric results and passing students?
B: Yeah we are doing well. The ranking? 89 percent.
SS: When parents apply to the school do they have to ask for the form? How do you distribute it?
B: You don’t automatically get it. You can’t give it to everybody. But they all know about it. Yes, they announce it at the AGM.
SS: But what if they don’t/can’t come to the AGM, because of walking, transport, English? B: They will tell them what the school fees are and a little bit later tell them about the forms. Then they will get them in the office.
SS: When they apply to come to Burnwood, they find out about these meetings?
B: Yes. But they send out letters, outstanding school fees, and the forms.
SS: You send the letters with the children or post them?
B: The children.
SS: Do you think the parents always receive those letters?
B: Yes yes they receive them. Yes that letter they will take home. They may not get the reports. They know what letters to take home.
SS: Do you have any advice for the parents to fill out the forms or to learn about them?
B: We assist them, I mean to fill out the forms.
SS: Half way through the year?
B: Yeah you can. “I’m not emplyed now but I was,” you know.
B: We have a fun run where they get a sheet with like 20 lines and they go around. That money you will collect to go towards your school fees. 40, 50, 60 rand go towards fees.

May 2, 2006
19) Rippon Primary School Principal: Jenny Adams
SS: How long have you been the principal here?
P: Since ’98, my first job was a teacher and then I became the principal.
SS: How many learners apply each year?
P: New learners, about 200. We normally accept all the children who apply.
SS: How many children are in each grade? Limit to how many you admit?
P: About 42- 44. We normally keep it to about 44 but we have had a class with about 50.
SS: How much are your school fees? Registration fee?
P: Our school fees are R500/year. No its part of the school fees. We parents pay a down payment.
SS: Do you have exemption policies?
P: Yes. We tell parents who cant pay the previous year at the budget meeting. Those who cannot pay need to come in and see us personally. We give them a form and we ask for proof of unemployment, unemployment card, the {pay slip} for the amount that they are supposed to pay, and affidavit from the police station stating that they are unemployed. Then the governing body looks at all that at the beginning of the year and none have been turned down if they include all that. Normally the genuine cases do apply and we accept them on fee exemption policies, either full, partial, or conditional.
SS: Do you take families to court?
P: No, no.
SS: Do you have any children from the informal settlements?
P: Yes about 400. You a lot of parents are shy to say that they live there and they give us fictitious addresses and phone numbers. Cause often we find, when we have to call a parent for whatever reason, that the address and phone number dont exist. Maybe they don’t want be found but usually its just embaressment.
SS: Do you send letters home–
P: We send letters asking them to come in, but usually the child doesn’t take the letter home. So how do you get a hold of the parents?
SS: Do you talk to children about the fees?
P: Yes we do, especially when it gets close to the cut off date, but we try to request the fees early. Then we wait for the parents to pay. Because you know its only R500. Half the parents are not paying it. But only about 200 children are really really poor and we have another 100 who are on grants, who live with grandparents, so they are exempted. Then I think we have about 200 parents that just don’t pay. They just refuse to pay, they don’t apply for exemption– they wont come near us. We know these parents can afford them. We look at the children; are they dressed in a funny way? With the conditional grants we allow them to not pay until they get a job and then request them to just come and help. Maybe on a sunday, maybe come and help with marshalling on a work day, then the parents say that they are working. And if they’re working then they should be paying fees. Its an ongoing battle.
SS: Do you have any programs that provide uniforms or transport?
P: Ummm, no. We do have parents that when their children leave they do give us the uniforms, which we do give to children who cant afford it.
SS: So you always accept the children regardless of whether or not they can pay fees?
P: Yeah yeah. We want to avoid all those legalities. And usually we have no problem. Its just that the department likes us to do our admissions this year and quite often we find that when it comes to January parents apply because they are now searching for a place for their children and most times schools are full by then. And then we ask them to be put on a waiting list and many parents feel that you dont want to give them a spot. But why would we not want to do that? Thats our job: education. When we lose children, we lose teachers. Thats the way the department is. We do take children as long as we have room.
SS: Have you ever considered being a fee-free school?
P: Um I havent given it much thought because from the looks of things its only going to be the poorest of the poor schools. We are seen as one of the more advantaged schools because of the building, but we are serving (her emphasis) a disadvantaged community completely. Our children travel from the townships and from informal settlements. They travel from the townships. What we found now is that parents are paying enormous amounts in travel fees so they dont have to pay more in fees. If your paying the transport then you should be able to afford the fees. The way our school is run, we get a pittence from the department and we rely on those fees. We cant do anything else. Look at our fence– we desperately need a fence.
P: We have often said, if the government could subsidize for cleaning and security, lights and water, then we would be able to give to the business of education. We have to pinch and save because there is a priority for this and writing materials and there are a lot of parents who cant afford to supply it. So we supply it and we cant do much more.
SS: Do you think a lot of parents know about the exemption policies?
P: Yes a lot of parents know about it and they dont go and apply for whatever reason. it may be embaressment. But I know my parents know about it because they come to the meeting. Not all come, but we send letters home.
SS: Are the letters in English or Zulu?
P: English. We have done it at one stage and the parents that come to the meetings, we have an interpreter. And we have asked them and they say no its not necessary. Most of them speak English and the grandparents speak English. The main reason for wanting {translation} is the exemption, but if you cant afford the fees then chose a school close to home where you dont have to pay transport and you dont have to pay so much fees. But they want their children to learn English. And we didn’t have a teacher here that translated the letters, but it seems to be unnecessary. You see when you’re translating into Zulu it takes up so much more space and so much time with the result that we tried it once or twice that we asked the parents and they said it wasn’t necessary. I feel that it is necessary. A lot might need it but they don’t want to say it. In the meeting you are talking to them and you can see some of those faces. I don’t know– maybe I should introduce that (she smiles).
SS: Why are your fees higher than Clareville or Palmeit?
P: Our fees were R100 when I became principal–the parents agreed to those fees actually. The governing body comes up with the budget and they present that to the parents and they’ve always agreed. For the last 3 yrs they’ve been at 500. Parents at the meeting said no dont raise the fees, we will participate in fundraising to make up the balance. Its fairly successful. But only those schools– all the other schools in the area charge more than 500. I think the school across the road is 600. We are all the same area 500, 550; we have come to that agreement so the parents aren’t rushing to the school that has the lowest fees. Clareville has a lot of refugee children so they get sponsorship.
SS: Do you get a lot of parents from the informal settlements helping?
P: No not at all. Even the ones that are exempted dont come. Just apathy. Maybe they working.
SS: What do you think about school fees as policy?
P: I would love for children not to have to pay school fees. I think that is what it should be. They have to pay for so much else. They have to buy uniforms, they have to pay for bus fees. They could buy the children’s books, buy the children books and read to the children. But now we have pay for lights and water and cleaning so the school must look presentable. And just our fence alone can tell you, these are not the things that match the school itself.
SS: Why do you think the parents want the school fees?
P: I don’t think the parents want the fees. I think if you told them that they dont have to pay the fees then it would make them the happiest people on earth. We present to them what are proposed budget is and they say “can we keep the fees the same.”
SS: What is the racial breakdown of the learners?
P: 700 black and about 250 coloured and indians- we have about 10. And no whites.
….A few years ago we tried to hand over parents to a debt collection agency and seemed to work quite well; parents were afraid and they paid. And then the next year we did it again and then the next year we tried and used a different debt collecting agency– I think many more schools have tried. The debt collecting agency seemed to me to be making a hell of a lot of money on that, because they were charging enormous amounts of interest and admin costs with the result that parents now had to pay the agency. And one or two parents brought their letters to me, showing me how much was added on and I was horrified. So last year I {presented} to the governing bodies, lets not have the collecting agencies. The GB members weren’t too happy about it but they said ok. Lets try to get it from the parents. They started mailing letters– it didn’t help because parents just couldn’t pay. Then we said that we were going to hand them over. I was going to go their cause becasue I thought being sorry for them didn’t help. If I wrote them the letters, we noticed that debt collecting agencies were charging enormous amounts and we don’t want the parents to go through this unpleasentness of being handed over if they paid the measly school fees that we asked. If you can pay our school fees, maybe not to Clareville, but to other primary schools who are doing a very good job in teaching, then we’re very very low. When I told other principals that its not R500 per month, they were horrified. I said its R500 a year.
SS: Is then quality at Clareville much lower?
P: No I’m not saying that. I’m saying Clareville has their own reasons why their charging low fees. Personally I feel if you don’t get a lot of money then you get lots of sponsorships. if you’re getting sponsorships, then obviously you can keep your fees lower. Also, their school is much smaller than mine. They have much less people.
SS: How bout the quality of Palmeit?
P: I think generally the quality of previously disadvantaged schools– they are all more or less the same. You go to a more advantaged school– a former white school– you’ll see the difference as you walk in the door. They have a history of advantage which we lack. We will never, as much as we try and as much money as the department gives us we will never reach that standard… But we will try very hard to give the children quality education.

P: … Businesses want to help the disadvantaged schools. When they see that we have running water and electricity, they don’t want to help us. They give computors to schools without electricity then they get stolen or lost.
… Parents are helping where they are paying higher fees versus the parents here, paying low fees, where we need the most help– it should be the other way around.

20) Clareville Primary Principal: A. Bhairoparsad
P: A lot of people have trouble understanding the complexity of education in South Africa. The more you are here the more you will find the more complex the situation becomes. Prior to Apartheid, education was divided into four education systems: one was for white ed., one was for indian ed, one was for coloured ed. and one was for bantu ed. However, when it comes to any government, they always allocate funding per learner. And you find that the white child was being subsidised the amount three times the amount of the black, indian, or coloured child. It made the education system a very unfair system if you look at it wholistically. If you look at there were certain people who were far more advantaged than the others and thats your dream of the nationalist government. Many of us have come up through the potholes of different institutions. But its great sacrifices the our parents made in order for us to reach the standards that we have reached in this country. However, there certain segments of South African society as well who are not willing to make sacrifices to improve their lot, even in this day and age. The idea of sacrifices is something which is in the subject of entitlement. Some people feel that they are now entitled because its a new government. This is a picture of what happened in the past and what we are now in. Maybe now you can focus on the current education system.
SS: How many learners attend Clareville?
P: I have 644 learners in my school and I have 11 and a half classrooms. The teacher ratios is from 1 is to 50 and two grades 1 is to 74.
SS: How many learners apply each year?
P: (Hesitation) You see the system of application is different from school to school. You’ll find that the better resourced school, the white schools, will complete their admission before the year end. But schools like ours, you’ll find that admission goes in the first days, second days. First term you will still find people coming in late from time to time. You see that there is a lot of migration of people from the rural areas to urban areas, different parts of Africa, the refugee, they tend to find a home in our school. Our admission is flexible in terms of the beginning of the year, but generally, per year, its about 200-250 new learners.
SS: Do you charge registration fees and what do you charge for your school fees?
P: There are no registration fees whatsoever. My school fees are R190/year, which we also give out free stationary, thats included in the R190. We give out something like 300 loaves of bread per week. We feed approximately 300 children/day.
SS: What are your exemption policies?
P: We have an exemption policy, which we follow in terms of the South African Schools Act. However, when we call for a budget meeting at the end of each year we get our parents attending. Now we present two budgets at my school, one is with exemptions, one is without exemptions. And this is a very poor community that we serve. You’ll find that we have the parents agreeing that if everyone pays school fees then the school fees will be cheap. Because the system of exemption is that one is paying for the education of the other. The bottom line is you want the rich to subsidize the poor, because what will happen is, if you subsidize 50 percent of your school, then the other 50 percent will be paying for their exemption. But if everyone puts their shoulders together and say “hey I’m going to make an effort to pay school fees, then their school fees are going to be reasonably priced.” And we don’t prepare to price our people out of the market this way, because if you put in the school fees, you will find that the parents are unable to send the children to school. And here in South Africa we have a new occupation: crime. And unfortunately, you’ll find that the adults normally use children to commit crime, because the South African courts will not take any action against children. So we wouldn’t want our children to be used as pawns in crime. We would rather have them in the classroom. So in order to attract them to come to a school, you have to have reasonably priced schools. All learners are accepted regardless of whether their parents are working, unemployed, or they’re not in the area. Because I also have refugees in the school. I have children from the DRC, children from Rwanda, from Burundi, Malawi.
SS: Do you receive sponsorship for these children?
P: Yes we do. It varies from year to year. You see we go out and use sponsorship drives. We don’t have functions at our school. You see we go to business or we go the embassy. We get sponsorship from the US as well. They made that promise about six months ago that the first shipment of goods, but it hasn’t arrived here. However, we are still very hopeful because we do understand that they do have lots to promise as well. They have to promise parts of Zimbabwe and other parts of Africa. So we hope that we will be the recipients of some of their good will. We get donations from individuals, as well. From different law companies, and business. It depends on who we approach. Every year we cant approach the same person. You need to be flexible and look at the other avenues of channeling money into your school.
SS: With these donations, do you still approach the parents?
P: What we do is, we expect parents to pay. Because in this day and age, to get quality education at R190 is the bolux. However, due to the poverty that we experience in the area, many of the parents are unable to pay. So we come up with an easy payment plan where they pay us R20/month. But even if R20 a month is still about financing, about 45 percent of the population is still not paying school fees. We try as hard as possible as well to try to encourage the parent to come and assist maybe in the school garden and unfortunately we don’t get very positive responses from the parents. However, I’m of the belief that they can’t afford it– to pay the R20 a month. Because this area absorbs quite a bit of the people from the informal settlements to work as domestics, casual workers, etc. The normal fee of the casual worker is normally about R40. So work five day/week as a casual laborer, but give us R20 from that to help your child’s education. Some of the parents are of the idea that there is the concept of entitlement. Certainly you will find that many of the parents are of the opinion that since the ANC has come into power and ANC pledged, initially when we had the first democratic elections, one of the pledges was free education for all, and free housing all, and free this for all and free that for all. But the government has realized that it fulfill all its promises. So as a result you have got the masses, who are uneducated and they heard “free” and now they expect “free.”
SS: How do you approach parents?
P: We send out notices to parents and we tell children that “school fees are due,” “please pay your school fees”. “Please keep the toilets clean,” “would you like to go to the toilet thats busting with chemicals?”
SS: Would you say you pressure them?
P: We motivate. We don’t pressure them. We don’t hand our parents over for collection at the end of the year.
SS: Do exempt parents that are on welfare grants or on pensions?
P: See that is when you get into a contentious issue. You see every child that lives with a parent and asks for a grant, is awarded a grant. The SA government makes sure they receive this amount of money. However, my concern is that if they are getting this money then they should be obligated to pay school fees. Because part and parcel of the welfare grant is maybe towards their child’s education. Normally in the public schools and you don’t want to pay school fees, what happens when it time for the child to go to university. Where do you take the child to then? Who is going to pay for the child to be at university? Part of social welfare is to pay for basic education of the children. And then they will get into the idea that when they go to university, you cant expect the parents to pay for their education. Because even with financial aid, there is still a portion of the fees that have to be paid by parents. There is also a problem with welfare grants. Becuase when a lady come to your school with two children on a grant. She will come back to your school and all of a suddenly she has four. Where did she have the other two when she becomes an adoptive parent and then she applies for welfare grants? See a lot of the parents use the grant systems to live their own lives. I am of the belief that if a lady want to receive a grant from the state she shouldn’t be allowed to have any more children. Because who is going to care for the other child? Its a matter of choice. Its not necessary to have babies to be sexually active…
SS: Have you ever thought about making your school a fee-free school?
P: It is in fact our next step. We will be taking the department to court. We are waiting for the allowment to come, whereby they’re going to announce the schools that are part of the free schooling. The department needs to do that to all the schools. See the South African government is allowing refugees into the country. See the refugees are allowed to be here as well. Many of our freedom fighters have gained refugee status in other countries. The idea of refugees is entirely acceptable but at the same time you need to encourage your refugees to become active members of the economy…
SS: How many students are from Kennedy Rd?
P: From Kennedy, I would be lying to you if I told you the exact figure. We don’t distinguish from the informal settlements. There is the belief that they have an ego. “Where do you live?” “Oh, you live in the Kennedy Road informal settlement.” And what about the other children who are living in a flat? We don’t want to demoralize our children. We try to distinguish children by the places that they live or the homes that they come from.
SS: Wouldn’t it help decipher who can pay?
P: You when a child comes to our schools we do have them fill out an admission form. What you will see in the black culture in South Africa is that the man will have a child from this woman here then he will have a child from another woman. I dont know whether its culture or what but these people have many children from many different women. And the burden of the child is left to the woman. In fact our education system needs to start focusing on that.
SS: What is the racial breakdown of the school?
P: We have about 99 percent black.
SS: Do all the parents attend the budget meetings?
P: With the school pop. 644 children, you get about 60 parents coming to the meeting. Thats good. You will find out from the other schools you have 10 parents, 15 parents present.
SS: How will the parents know and decide about the exemption policies if they don’t attend the meeting?
P: You cannot be oblivious to the law. Your school is like order in the classroom, order in the court room. Your school is inviting you to a meeting and if you are so keen and you can’t afford to pay school fees, etc. You will come and hear your view there. Because we are all adults in the meeting. You have the right to say “I cannot afford to pay school fees.” And maybe the other parents who attend will hear the idea that there are people who cannot afford to pay school fees. Maybe they will look at the partial exemption, depending on the parents and the children. But at R190 a month there a lot of possible exemption and I think that person is really overstating his or her bounds.
SS: Are the meetings in English or Zulu?
P: We have the English meetings and we have a Zulu interpreter. Because part of the governing at the school are Zulu speaking as well.
SS: Do you have any programs for uniforms? Do you provide transport?
P: We are not too particular on uniforms, the reason being that the children are coming from very poor homes and we do not impress upon them, overly, to where school uniforms. However, we do go out to people to get donations. The organization ICare, an NGO, which looks to the upliftment of street children. This year they gave me school uniforms to the value of R8000, which we gave to the children. At the end of each year we ask that children bring in their old uniforms.
No we do not provide transport. Our children have to find their own means of transport.

Appendix 5

Letter Templates for the Workshop

Dear A.K. Maharash/ A. Bhairopasad,

(Option 1:) I am receiving assistance to translate this into English. My child/grandchild, (name of child) attends your school. I am currently paying/being asked to pay school fees, which are too high for my financial situation. I am unemployed and, though you do not have formal exemption policies, I wish to lessen my burden of fees.

(Option 2:) I am receiving assistance to translate this into English. My child/grandchild, (name of child) attends your school. I am currently paying/being asked to pay school fees, which are too high for my financial situation. I am on a grant/pension that is barely enough to pay for food and living needs. I request that my obligation to pay fees be revoked on the basis of my struggling financial situation.

(All Parents) I have not been in contact with you because
a) I am ashamed of my financial situation.
b) I was unaware of the policies and the right concerning school fees and my child’s education.
c) I am also struggling to understand the letters and meetings in English.

I am now requesting a meeting with you to assure that the payment of my fees be arranged according to my financial situation. I will follow up with a call to make a date and time for our meeting. Thank you in advance for your time.

Yours faithfully,

____________________
Name

Facing Uncertainty with Unity: Lives and livelihoods of shack dwellers in Motala Farm

Facing Uncertainty with Unity
Lives and livelihoods of shack dwellers in Motala Farm

Lisa Fry
Advisor: Richard Ballard, UKZN
School for International Training
2006

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank Richard Ballard for advising me during this project. He was instrumental in providing contacts and gave me direction when I got lost in the overwhelming amount of information. I would also like to thank the community of Motala Farm for allowing me to visit, and thanks to all who were surveyed. Special thanks go to Mrs. Shamitha Naidoo, Miss. Lewisa Motha, and Mr. Bekhi Ngcobo; this project would not have been possible without their guidance and insights. A final thank you is to Emily, the intern at Legal Resources, who kept me updated with information about changing court dates.

Cover photo: A destroyed shack, surrounded by its neighbors facing the same fate

1. Introduction

Jump off the taxi at the sign for Motala in Pinetown and walk into the suburb along a road through greenery. The road ends with large houses along a tributary road, leading toward a nature reserve and the primary school in one direction, and Govender’s Supermarket, Butchery, and Bottle Store on the other. On the surface, it looks like a lovely, small, comfortable area. Continue past Govender’s stores along the road towards his villa, and you still may not notice the other half of the Motala Farm suburb. In backyards, and along dirt paths off the main track, are tin and iron houses. Neighboring the Govender Villa is an entire settlement of shacks nestled almost picturesquely into the side of a green hill (Picture 1). These are the residences of the poor of Motala. They came for a variety of reasons, including the search for work and the Group Areas Act. Many were born in Motala Farm, and some are the third or fourth generation to live there.

Picture 1: The Motala Heights jondolo settlement as seen from the approaching dirt road. A close look shows that the lower part of the hill is covered with the boards from destroyed shacks.

Turn off the main road and walk up a dirt track to the shack settlement. The homes here are known as jondolos, to differentiate them from the tin- and- iron houses scattered throughout the whole Motala area. Piles of boards, and in some places bricks, cover much of the lower part of the hill – shacks that have already been knocked down to evict their occupants. The remaining residents are fighting in court through Abahlali baseMjondolo, the Durban-wide shack dwellers’ movement, for their right to remain in Motala Heights, rather than be relocated to Nazareth Island, a new housing development with “leaky houses.” The new housing development is considered by most Motala Heights respondents to be far from employment, educational, and social opportunities.

Hidden in overgrown pathways and behind large brick houses are Indian and a few Black African tenants living in tin-and-iron houses that are essentially shacks. Recently, the Indian tenants have become involved with Abahlali baseMjondolo as well since they also face eviction, although if evicted they will not get houses from the government like their Black jondolo-dwelling neighbors because they are currently living on private land. Many of the tenants were born in the suburb, and they have nowhere to go if they are evicted. Their lives and means of livelihood are tied to the place.

“Survivalist” is the word that best describes livelihood methods of shack dwellers in Motala Farm. Unemployment is high, and many depend on temporary, causal, or part-time work in the surrounding industries. One woman, from a tin-and-iron house on privately owned land, observed that after paying rent and for electricity, there is hardly enough money to buy bread and milk, much less pay the exorbitant fees the local school illegally refuses to waive.

Tired of broken promises and not being allowed consultation into their future, shack dwellers all over Durban have taken the housing issue into their own hands in the form of a large and militant shack dwellers’ movement, Abahlali baseMjondolo. Both the poor African and Indian communities in Motala Farm are now working with Abahlali baseMjondolo.

2. The Broader Context of this Struggle

2.1. A brief history of Indian affairs and housing issues in Durban

Struggles surrounding the issues of suitable housing and slum clearance are not new to Durban. The issue initially revolved around overcrowding and unsanitary conditions of the Indian working class housing and was related to the Natal “Indian problem.” The same issues that faced the informal settlement populations in the late 19th century continue to this day: encouraged or forced removal to the periphery resulting in the loss of livelihood opportunities. Bagwandeen reports that the housing issue was central to Indian politics in South Africa in the 1940s, causing much anti-Indian legislation and propaganda , but it in fact housing issues began even earlier.
The first Indians arrived in Natal in 1860 as indentured laborers, an arrangement already being used in several other colonies. Between then and 1911 when the last indentured laborers arrived, more than 150,000 workers were imported, while “passenger Indians,” mostly Gujarat Muslim traders who had paid their own passage to South Africa, settled in as competition to European traders . Swanson notes that the promoters of indentured labor most likely did not expect settlement as a result of the program, despite the original offer of land in South Africa as an incentive for laborers to participate; Indians were supposed to repatriate or remain as peasants and laborers. Instead they concentrated in the urban areas, some trading on a small scale or working as artisans, while others obtained small plots of land for market gardening.
1871 saw the first proposed idea of and serious action towards separate Black and Indian “villages”, the location of which would be on the outskirts of Durban. These “outskirts” would be surrounded by the town in less than one generation, setting up a pattern of removal to the periphery. Additionally, many Europeans were under the delusion that most Indians would repatriate – even long after the majority of Indian South Africans were in fact born in South Africa and thus had no reason to repatriate – and so did not feel that it was important to spend money developing “Indian areas.” White explains that because residential differentiation in these areas was not economically based, and the wealthy lived next to the poor, as well as difficulties building because of the world war “the de facto Indian areas failed to develop into areas attractive either to reside in or invest in by the growing class of affluent Indians;” a few of most wealthy began moving into predominantly European areas adjoining Indian areas. Bagwandeen elaborates, explaining: “Areas occupied by Indians came to be characterized by a welter of shacks and shanties amidst substantial homes.”

In 1932, the city of Durban expanded to between four and five times its former size, although still smaller than the current municipality, incorporating peripheral areas that some former indentured Indians had settled in to escape paying municipal rates and taxes. In 1937 housing was built in Cato Manor that the Durban City Council felt was suitable but was considered inadequate by the Indian people for whom they were intended. The houses were of poor design and construction and the living conditions would be unhealthy. Additionally, the location was considered poor, with no employment available in the area and no good, cheap transportation available to other parts of the city. Finally, “many who needed the houses could not afford either the rentals or installments for the sub-economic or economic houses and the main problem was therefore one of poverty.”

The parallels to the present situation are clear. Bagwandeen, introducing “Indian penetration” between 1940 and 1946, makes a comment about the Indian housing issue of the time:

“It is universally accepted that shelter constitutes one of the necessities of human existence…it is significant…that all people require the same degree of shelter…But it is the quality of housing and the environment in which it is situated that are important. They affect the well-being of individuals and families”

Not much has changed in the intervening years.
Indians continued to be pushed to the periphery, however, with the result that eventually some ended up as far from the city center as Pinetown and Motala Farm. Whether these settlers were originally rural farmers or followed the industrial expansion is unclear, but before legislation was passed to create Motala Farm as an “Indian area” there was already an Indian community living mixed with “Coloreds” who would eventually be relocated. The fear of “Indian penetration” into predominantly European neighborhoods, fueled by the European fear of the residential integration of a few affluent Indian landowners, was finally addressed by legislation in 1943 by the “Pegging” Act , the first of many legislations leading to urban segregation. Through this Act,

Indians were allowed to retain properties purchased up to March 1943, and thereafter it was illegal to acquire or occupy premises in predominately white areas. Whites and Indians could not engage in any transaction relating to the acquisition or occupation of property unless a permit was issued by the Minister of the Interior
The Act applied to the Durban municipal area for three years, during which time a solution to the housing problem was to be created.

Instead, the Asiatic Land Tenure and Indian Representation Act of 1946, known as the “Ghetto” Act, was implemented. Land in Natal was divided into “controlled” and “uncontrolled” areas. In “uncontrolled” areas one race could buy or sell from and to one another with no restrictions, but “controlled” areas were under the authority of the Land Tenure Advisory Board, who had to approve all land sales. Freund explains that “these measures were directed against so-called Indian penetration of white neighborhoods rising on the Berea above the racetrack, and of the Indian business district behind the city centre.”

The final step in urban segregation, indeed a reason that a few Indian residents of Motala Farm cited as their reason for moving to the area, was the Group Areas Act of 1950, which finally resulted in the loss of Indian land in “white-only” areas and complete urban segregation.

2. National Housing Policy

The current South African constitution guarantees housing for all people, as Section 26 of the Bill of Rights states:
26. (1) Everyone has the right to have access to adequate housing.
(2) The state must take reasonable legislative and other measures, within its available resources, to achieve the progressive realisation of this right.
(3) No one may be evicted from their home, or have their home demolished, without an order of court made after considering all the relevant circumstances. No legislation may permit arbitrary evictions.

The Breaking New Ground national housing act of 2004 calls for a change in attitude toward housing from “slum clearance” and simple provision of housing to actual reduction of the causes of informal settlement. Theoretically, local government and informal settlement communities are to work together to provide houses for residents through in situ upgrading wherever possible, using innovative measures as necessary. Where such upgrading is not possible, housing is to be provided on “well-located” land. Residents are to work together with local authorities to decide if “land is well-located in relation to their livelihood strategies and opportunities for the development of their human capital.”

Breaking New Ground, is optimistic and calls for a change in approach. Instead of housing simply being provided to communities, the policy calls for cooperation between local government and community members to deliver housing in a way that promotes economic growth, crime fighting, increased social cohesion, and increased of quality of life. In situ upgrading “is more likely to be responsive to poverty and vulnerability, and lead to social inclusion, than a relocation process, due to the socio – economic disruption (of delicately balanced livelihoods) associated with the latter.” However, politics and image issues may have overridden the original focus on helping the poor. Huchzermeyer notes that the World Cup bid announcement added the transformation of “visible” informal settlements before international visitors arrived to the agenda. Although few World Cup visitors are likely to come across Motala, many in the area believe that the development needs of the poorest community members are not the primary motivation for relocation plans. There are allegations of corruption; it is widely believed that the local councilor reports to Mr. Govender before and after his armed visits to the informal settlement. Those vulnerable to eviction fear the loss of livelihood and community.

Marie Huchzermyer, the primary researcher into the South African housing policy and its effectiveness (or lack thereof) has mentioned the disruption of livelihood that can be caused by relocation to peripheral housing settlements. The South African housing policy calls for “communities and the beneficiaries of government housing programs [to] be mobilized to partner [with] the Department [of Housing] in the implementation of the new human settlements plan” to assist with poverty alleviation. However, many settlements that should benefit from this new policy are not, and instead are being relocated to locations that negatively impact the struggle for livelihood. Sophie Oldfield, although speaking in a different context, summarized the difficulty: “Clearly, housing is not just a product, a material asset to be delivered to a family.”

Poverty eradication is only one of the ANC’s three key policy objectives for the new term related to housing – reducing vulnerability and promoting inclusion are the other two – going beyond mere concentration on improvement of housing, infrastructure, and physical environment to community involvement. The new policy emphasizes the role of housing delivery in poverty alleviation, linking it to employment creation and access to subsidized property as a form of “wealth creation and empowerment.” Residents can in fact have backing from the Informal Settlement Upgrading Program, set up by Breaking New Ground, to remain in their current settlement rather than be relocated to the periphery. In Motala Heights, however, events show that the eThekwini municipality is not implementing the approach outlined in Breaking New Ground. It seems it is easier for the municipality to push residents into already built houses as quickly as possible, rather than solve the actual underlying problems that have created the need for people to be provided with housing rather than be able to purchase their own. Thus, instead of the provision of housing allowing employment creation and access, it actually removes these opportunities with the removal of shack dwellers to the periphery.

2.3 Housing policy in KwaZulu-Natal

KwaZulu Natal’s new Elimination and Prevention of Re-Emergence of Slums Bill, hereafter referred to as “the Bill,” mentions in its preamble the provision of affordable housing, especially to those who “prior to the advent of democracy in South Africa [were] disadvantaged politically and economically,” as its motivation, along with the constitutional right to housing. However, the aims of the Bill outlined in its brief abstract uses such terms as “progressive elimination” “measures of prevention,” and the term “slum” to describe substandard housing. A “slum,” as defined by the Bill, is “overcrowded or squalid land or buildings occupied by predominantly indigent or poor persons with poor or non-existent infrastructure or sanitation.” All of this jargon has negative connotations implying dealing with a problem rather than proactively working toward a permanent solution as the national housing policy invites.

The objectives of the act show that the emphasis in KwaZulu Natal is on the image of complying with national policy, rather than the reality of the lives and livelihoods of the people affected by “elimination and prevention” of “slums.” The Bill does not mention livelihood opportunities that could be gained or lost by moving people from their residential location of choice. Most of the Bill relates to evicting people living in unsuitable conditions or who are illegally squatting and sets up the responsibility of each municipality to evict as it sees fit. There are only a few sections about providing proper housing, none with the consideration for livelihood shown by the national policy. Section 7, for example, states: “the responsible Member of the Executive Council must promote and facilitate the provision of adequate housing throughout the Province within the framework of the national policy on housing.” This vague statement is immediately followed by Section 8, however, a lengthy detailing of the powers of the Member of the Executive Council to “monitor progress by municipalities in their programmes for eradication of slums” and “take all reasonable and necessary steps to support municipalities in their progressive elimination of slums.” The Member can approve slum upgrading programs, any relocation project, and the financing of these projects.

Upgrading does not seem to be the preferred method of “slum clearance,” however, as measures to encourage quick clearance are also provided by the Bill. Under Section 11, each municipality must provide a status report detailing slums and unlawful occupants in their area of jurisdiction, and then provide a yearly report of “the steps taken towards the realization of its slums elimination program during that fiscal year, as well as the improvements made in the living conditions of the persons concerned as a result thereof.” The municipalities must compare their slum elimination progress to their targets, and take measures to improve if targets are not met. This encourages simple improvement of living condition, only the provision of housing, without much account for the quality of the houses provided or the livelihood issues attached to the location in which such housing is provided, although livelihood is briefly mentioned later in Section 12.
All of this discussion has a very relevant application to the fate of the “slum” dwellers of Motala Farm. If the Bill is passed, all the poor residents, whether living on public or private land, can be evicted by the terms of Sections 6.2 and 10, on the basis that they occupy dwellings unsuitable for habitation as outlined in Section 5. If evicted, the municipality can provide them with temporary housing until more permanent structures are built For permanent relocation plans, Section 12 stipulates that:
In the event of a municipality deciding to make available alternative land or buildings for the relocation of persons living in a slum, such municipality must take reasonable measures, within its available resources, to ensure that such alternative land or building is in reasonable proximity to one or more economic centres.
However, “reasonable proximity” is at the discretion of the municipality; the occupants to be relocated need not be consulted. The municipality’s “available resources,” or the resources determined to be necessary to address the issue, also rely on the preference of the municipality. They may choose to spend very little resources to ensure continued livelihood so that quotas and targets can be met. Hopefully as this Bill passes through the Provincial legislature the opinions of those to be affected by the Bill will come into consideration.

3. Jondolo dwellers: Lives

3.1 General Conditions

Thirty subjects surveyed lived in the jondolos on the hill in the settlement in Motala Farm known as Motala Heights: fourteen women and sixteen men. During the course of the survey, observation and conversation allowed a picture of this disrupted community where about half the shacks, have been knocked down, leaving piles of boards and other rubble, mostly on the lower part of the hill. The dirt road coming from the main Motala road ends where the hill rises more steeply but shacks continue, looking precarious, nearly to the top. There is a small red shop selling cool drinks before the road ends, and a tuckshop is further up the center of the hill behind the toilet.

The toilet is to one side at the end of the road, with water taps in front where there is always someone doing washing or relaxing in the minimal shade. The toilet was finally provided three years ago after two women, ANC community representatives at the time, fought with the municipality for water, which first came in a big container before the pipes were installed. They also managed to get rubbish collection provided for a time. The ANC committee tried to take credit for the work, much to the indignation of those actually responsible.

The tuckshop on the hill seems to be a gathering space for some of those not working during the day; it boasts a covered porch and a battery powered radio. During the heat of the day, however, most people retreat to the slightly cooler insides of shacks. Women, and occasionally men, doing washing by the taps at the toilet or in tubs in front of shacks are a common sight. Because of the high rate of unemployment, as well as those who work only on a temporary, casual, or part- time basis, there are many people in the settlement during the day, going about their household tasks and attempting to avoid the heat.

3.2 Life: An Example

One woman’s life in Motala Heights is an example of the established community. She was born in Motala Heights to a father who was from the area and a mother from Cape Town. Her mother worked for an Indian man who is now one of the main Indian Abahlali representatives. This woman wants a house, but would be happy if services, such as having the area cleaned and rubbish collection, were provided, as well as delivery of food parcels to needy households.
No one in her household currently works, and one of the children was forced to leave school for financial reasons. However, this respondent would like to stay in Motala Heights rather than be relocated to Nazareth Island, because in Motala she “can at least do small washing and temporary work to get food to eat.” Unfortunately, she feels that although it is a strong community, it is not safe because all sorts of people come up and down the road. Additionally, at the time of our conversation, the respondent was afraid to sleep in her house for fear that it would be broken down in the night.

3.3 Livelihood

Only six respondents reported currently having a job; only one is a woman, who recently began working at the Motala Heights Library. Three of these employed residents are the sole income earner in their household, and two more reported that at least one other member of the household worked on a temporary or casual basis. Eight people reported having no job, though of these, six reported that at least one other person in their household works; in the other two households there are currently no income earners. Temporary, casual, or part-time work in the area was reported by nine respondents, five of whom reported that at least one other person in their household also worked on a temporary basis. Four respondents reported being on a grant or pension, two of whom reported being the sole source of income for the household. Three women reported doing washing as their means of employment, although only one was the sole income earner for her household . One young respondent had dropped out of school and was waiting to receive ID papers and find a job . 23 respondents in the jondolos came to Motala Farm looking for work; many surveyed cited closeness to jobs as the primary reason they wanted to stay. One man commented that if he moved he would no longer be able to earn “pocket money from day jobs,” a whimsical reference to his survivalist livelihood opportunities.

3.4 Education

Of those who reported their education level, four women and one man had no education, while two men had achieved matric. Men on average had a higher level of education than women: 6.5 Standards compared to 3.8 Standards but this does not seem to be particularly significant in relation to work, as the one woman who holds a job only achieved a low standard, and the men with matric were not currently working. Only four respondents reported having at least one child in school, although of these people, one woman said she has five children attending school, surely a strain on the already survivalist livelihood of the family.

3.5 Relocation

All respondents surveyed wish to remain in Motala Farm. Closeness to work was the primary reason cited, but other reasons include the perception that Nazareth Island, where the municipality has built houses for the settlement, has no job opportunities, and transport to jobs from the development is expensive. Also, the municipality houses are considered to be leaky, and have no water or electricity . An elderly man who had lived in the settlement 16 years presented a particularly touching reason for wanting to stay. He reported that he left Johannesburg because there was a war there. Now he has been in Motala Heights for so long that he wishes to be buried there .

One respondent was of the opinion that those who are moving only lived in Motala a short time and had jumped at the chance to get a house. They had not been born there and did not know the history of the place, she asserted . My own findings on this point are slightly contradictory: only a few subjects had in fact been born in Motala, although 24 of the 30 residents surveyed had lived there more than five years, and 12 had lived there more than 10 years. None of those surveyed, even a respondent who had come less than a year before, wanted to leave.

4. Tin- and- Iron House dwellers

While those in the jondolos came primarily looking for work, the Indian residents of the tin-and-iron houses were primarily either born in the area or came to marry someone born in the area. Of those born in the area, several respondents are the third or fourth generation; when the parents and grandparents of a few respondents came to Motala Farm, it was “still bush.” It is important to note that most, but not all, of the tenants in the tin-and-iron houses are Indian, while all of those living in the jondolos are Black. The interracial relations will be addressed below, but the fact that the community is “mixed” was referenced repeatedly and has some bearing on how the housing struggle is perceived.

4.1 Conditions

The tin-and-iron houses are not houses at all, but shacks that appear only slightly sturdier than some of the wooden jondolos. The buildings tend to have many tiny rooms because multiple generations often live together, a construction scheme that has been in existence in the Durban peri-urban Indian society since at least the early 1900s. The occupants are all tenants (Picture 3); in fact, much of the land belongs to Mr. Govender the “local tycoon” mentioned above, who has been buying up land in Motala Farm for the last 15 years, although his plans for the land remain speculation. Other landlords in the area seem to be taking cues from Govender when it comes to the tenure of their tenants, many of whom face eviction with no place to go. Tenants are not allowed to make improvements on their shacks, to the point where one tenant was forbidden from adding an indoor toilet. The reason given for this restriction is ominous and removes security of tenure: there may be “development” at any point, and the tenants will be evicted and their houses knocked down.

Picture 3: The view of a landlord’s brick house from the front stoop of one of the tin-and-iron houses in the back yard. Several other houses in the yard are visible.
Shacks frequently flood in the heavy costal rainstorms, and the swampland some are built on seeps through the floor. The houses are frequent guests to snakes and rats, especially those built near the river. The river is a problem in itself. It is contaminated by a chemical factory near the school, but since those who live near the river do not have water taps, they must use the river water that they know to be contaminated to survive. In fact, the conditions of most of the tin-and-iron houses led my guide to finally say that the tenants should not actually be paying for their accommodation, because it is equal to the free jondolos on municipal land, who also get free water and toilets.

4.2 Lives

One woman, born in Motala Farm 60 years ago, began working at the age of 15 to help out her family. She worked in many places, from a butchery to a clothing factory, all in the Motala Farm and Pinetown area, although now she is not working. Only she and her husband live in their shack now that her last daughter has married. Her small shack also had one of the most attractive interiors of a home I have ever encountered. All of the shacks had neat interiors, but hers was especially tidy and appealing. When I commented on her home, she replied that “just because you live in a shack doesn’t mean you should treat it like a shack.” Her pride in a home, no matter how inadequate, is reflective of the dignity of all Motala Farm shack dwellers, they still take pride in what small part of their environment that they can control. This proud woman told me that although her sister and daughter have extra rooms in their houses in other parts of Durban that they have invited her to live in, she will not leave Motala, where she was born and bred; she will die there.

Subject 49 has lived in shacks all over Motala Farm in the last 35 years: every time he constructed one and had lived in it for a few years he and his family were evicted and moved to another location. Their latest shack, although it is on a higher part of the bank above the river, still floods in heavy rain. The respondent has many cars in his yard and during our conversation was in the process of expanding the driveway past his home because he is an informal mechanic. This man does not want to fight for housing: he wants to follow the proper channels, but seemed bewildered that the local councilor is not acting and that following procedure has not worked. However, he felt very strongly that houses are the most important need for the poor of the community

The attitude towards their survivalist livelihood by all of Motala Farm’s shack dwellers can be summarized by one woman’s comment. Her husband is on a grant, and they receive a child support grant for one of their three children, all of whom are in school; the family is surviving on the grants. However, she is “thankful to God because at the end of the day He makes a way.” The hope that the people still hold despite all setbacks inspires hope that someday they will have the proper shelter they deserve in their dignity as human beings.

4.3 Previous housing attempts

The current housing struggle is actually the third attempt by tin-and-iron house tenants to get proper housing. The previous government promised proper housing to Motala Farm residents in the 1970s, but instead housing became a game of survival of the fittest; those who could bought land and built houses, and those who could not became their tenants. Eight or ten years ago the Motala Farm Ratepayers Association, comprised of landlords, conducted a census of families. They claimed that the association would fight for low-cost housing in the area, but the project was never mentioned again.

4.4 Livelihood

Like the jondolo dwellers, most tin-and-iron house dwellers, if employed, work in the area. Since many in this situation who were surveyed are older and on pensions, I also asked them what kinds of work they did before, so as to explore the idea of intertwining life and livelihood further. Many reported having done work in nearby industry or held other jobs in the area

4.5 Work

Twenty respondents not on a grant or pension reported having no job. Of these, sixteen were women, which suggests a gendered dynamic with regard to employment. Further exploration showed that employment is indeed somewhat gendered, at least among the Indian community, with most women taking care of children, and their husbands and sons the primary income earners. Of the women who do not work, four reported that at least one other person in the household has a job, while a further six had at least one household member who worked on a temporary, casual, or part-time basis. The other five women reported that no one in the household worked. Two of these households are receiving financial assistance from other family members, and one household is living on maintenance from the respondent’s ex-husband.

Since some of the households hold large extended family, it is unsurprising that the women of the family are housewives. One woman actually gave “housewife” as her occupation, citing the difficulty of finding a job as her reason, a contradiction from the report of respondents who wish to stay in Motala Farm precisely because of ease of finding work.

One aspect of income in the Indian community that is worthy of note is the prevalence of disability grants: four respondents had disabled children, three of whom are on a disability grant, and one respondent is disabled himself. A few other respondents complained that they should be on a disability grant for health reasons.

4.6 Education

Education levels among the tin-and-iron house dwellers are more equal between genders than those of the jondolo dwellers, although the smaller subject pool of men may have influenced the results. Of those who reported their education level, women had an average education level of 5.7 Standards, while men had an average education level of 5.9 Standards. Three women had no education, while two had achieved matric, one of whom had actually taken a few college computer courses. One elderly woman explained that the reason she had not gone to school was that “girls who went to school had boyfriends”! Only one man had achieved matric, but all who responded had some education.
17 respondents reported that one or more child in their household is currently attending school. One of the livelihood challenges reported by all parents and grandparents of schoolchildren is the cost of education. The Motala Heights Primary School costs between R600 and R800, and school fees are not waived even with proper documentation that a family is unable to afford fees. The area’s primary high school is further away in another suburb and costs R1000, not including transport fees. For people living from day to day, never knowing where income may come from or when they could be evicted with nowhere to go, this is just one more obstacle in their path.

4.7 Relocation

One older man summed up the general feeling of the tin-and-iron house dwellers when he stated that “even though it is a dump” he will die in Motala, because it is where he was born and has lived his whole life. 17 of the 30 Indian respondents were born in Motala Farm, with three reporting that one or more of their parents were also born in Motala. A further six respondents came to the area for marriage, with three reporting their spouses were born in Motala Farm, although it was implied with the others; one woman said her mother-in-law had also been born in the area. Many of the tin-and- iron house residents surveyed were around 50 or older: the youngest interviewed who reported age or length of time living in the community was born there 28 years ago, while the oldest reported age of a respondent born in the area was 63. Two respondents could not remember how long ago they had arrived in Motala; one man who estimated 50 years and a woman who could only remember that it was more than 41 years, the age of her son.

4.8 Hidden Problems
There are more problems in the community, tied into livelihood, than just unemployment and expensive school fees, although few will speak of it. Alcoholism and drug use plague the community, especially among the men. Subject 63 feels that because unemployment is so high, when men are not working they have nowhere to go to spend time with their children, such as a park, so they go to the pub instead. I observed several teenage boys, who had apparently dropped out of school (or were skipping), hiding a bottle of alcohol at my approach with my guide, an early start to a lifetime of alcohol abuse. A care center for women with drunken husbands was identified as a community need, although a more preventative solution is also needed in the long run. The respondent also explained, from experience, that most men refuse counseling and Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. The ultimate result of this problem, she concluded, is divorce and destroyed families. Single women struggle without whatever extra income their husband provided, although the reduced expenditure on alcohol surely equals or outweighs the lost income.

Two other issues, related to one another, that are not addressed particularly openly are class relations and racism. A tuckshop owner, also a homeowner with no tenants, assured me that he is not bothered by the people in the shacks, and is quite content to have them in the Motala Farm community, which he describes as “one big family.” A different story was told by the agenda for the Ratepayer’s Association meeting, which had “Squatter problem” as an item for the 7 December 2006 meeting. An interview with one of the ratepayers implied underlying racial tensions that may or may not relate to class. His home backs up to the shacks, and he does not like their presence and is glad that they are moving. The Blacks invaded the land, he informed me, and they don’t belong there. He is of the opinion that the Blacks should be happy to get free two- room houses, no matter where the houses are actually located or what the quality of the buildings may be. The respondent is convinced that all of the jondolo dwellers are being evicted so that Govender, who the subject’s son works for, can build “low-income” houses. These houses, he admitted, are not actually going to be affordable to those with low income just as current permanent structures rented out by Govender are not affordable (Picture 3).

Picture 3: One of three rental houses belonging to Govender. Rent for these buildings is reported to be R2000 per month, plus electricity and running water.

5. Brief History of Abahlali baseMjondolo

Abahlali baseMjondolo, the shack dweller’s movement in Durban, was born from a long history of broken promises from councilors about housing. The attitude that those who live in “slums” are invisible most of the time, are simply a problem to be dealt with, and probably do not have access to legal protection from illegal evictions along with the insufficiencies of the top-down housing delivery scheme, was finally resisted en masse. The shack dwellers, at first just from the informal settlement Kennedy Road, but eventually from all over Durban, decided they wanted to speak for themselves. Although the movement faced opposition both from other shack dwellers and the municipal government, it has become strong. Their demands that they are given houses, and on their terms, are seen as a threat to the state’s power, especially since Abahlali has managed mostly positive media coverage, has been able to prevent several evictions, and has obtained legal representation. The state, on the other hand, has been portrayed as inhumane, though evictions with no provision for shelter, and violent in its anti-march tactics. In short, the poor have thrown off their cloak of invisibility and have become embarrassingly visible. They have made their demands heard by all, no longer allowing themselves to be defenselessly swept aside, and will continue to do so until their request is honored. The people refuse to acquiesce to anything less than their rights as human beings and citizens of South Africa.

There are those on the right and on the left who think that poor Black shack dwellers could not possibly be intelligent enough to become such a threat to the municipal government’s power without behind the scenes coordination.

However it is clear that the Abahlali baseMjondolo movement is well able to think and act for itself and to do so effectively. For instance while I was working on this study the movement quickly mobilized, was able to challenge and protest evictions, and was even able to procure a court order against further removals in Motala Farm.

5.1 Motala Farm and Abahlali baseMjondolo

Subject 62 is one of the original Abahlali members in Motala Farm. She and several others read in the newspaper about the movement in February 2006 and went to speak with them. She explained that their reason for joining together with the wider movement to struggle is that they “are all involved in the same struggle.” There is a general feeling among these people that the government makes many promises up until elections, and then nothing is done; this opinion prompted the Abahlali movement to boycott the last election.

In August, Indymedia South Africa published an article by “Motala Heights Development Committee.” The article described the community’s mobilization to fight evictions, the violence and threats used by the local councilor, and made the allegation that the councilor is working with, or under orders from, “local tycoon Ricky Govender.” The article also mentions that “[t]he 63 families scheduled to move to Nazareth Island would rather stay in Motala Heights where they are close to work, schools, the local clinic, shops, and other benefits of being near Pinetown and where they are part of an established community.”

The community members’ resistance and desire to remain was only intensified by several actual evictions and the destruction of shacks. Their connections with Abahlali baseMjondolo, although there were setbacks, allowed the struggle to continue to the point of ultimately winning the reprieve of a court order on 29 November 2006 banning further evictions.

The relationship with the movement is poised to benefit the Indian community in the tin-and-iron houses of Motala Farm as well. In October, Indian tenants became involved with the shack dweller’s movement when they filled out affidavits for the court case. Unfortunately, since they live on privately owned land rather than municipal land, their case is complicated. Currently, steps are being taken to discover ways to bring their case to court as well.

The Indian and Black shack dwellers have much in common. Their children attend the same schools, which all agree have fees that are too high. They have lived side by side for many years, in essentially the same conditions, and though the Indian people have electricity and those in the jondolos do not have to pay rent, all of their dwellings are unsuitable for habitation. They do many of the same kinds of jobs, and some of the jondolo dwellers do occasional work for some of the tin-and-iron house dwellers. The jondolo dwellers are happy for the Indian people to join in because they are a community, and they grew up together.

However, the feelings of the Indian residents are mixed. While some of the Indian people are enthusiastic about the joint struggle, others, whether jaded from previous letdowns in relation to housing or for other reasons, are more wary. Subject 52 was one of those opposed to the cooperation. He feels that under the new government, Indian needs have been ignored. Motala Farm, he asserts, is what it is because of the Indians, so they deserve the first right to proper houses. This man told me that Blacks get houses if they are evicted, and cannot be evicted without being given houses, but if Indians are evicted they have nowhere to go. In fact, he felt that the apartheid government was better because they built schools and hospitals, but “the current government has done nothing and built nothing.”

This issue of trust is a dividing point for the Indian community. The above respondent’s opinion was echoed by several other Indian respondents, who felt that the housing struggle is “just for Blacks” and that they would be deserted after the jondolo dwellers got what they wanted. Subject 62, speaking for “the Blacks” felt that the Indian people not filling out their forms was inhibiting the struggle, but assured me that they were very happy to have their fellow shack dwellers participating in the struggle and would certainly not desert them. The Abahlali movement’s principles imply that all shack dwellers will work together until all obtain proper housing in areas that can support them economically and socially

6. Conclusion

Ultimately, all that the shack dwellers of Motala Farm want is a house. They would like a sewer system, and lower school fees, and a park, and a community hall – but in the end, it is a house that each wants: “A decent home where we can live and pass on and know we had something,” in the words of one resident. It is more than the basic need for shelter – it is a desire for a basic right of dignity.
Housing issues in South Africa are closely tied to livelihood. Livelihood is both social and economic. Life is inextricably bound with livelihood; remove the means of livelihood and life will be destroyed. Most of the shack dwellers surveyed wish to remain in Motala Heights. Their lives and their livelihood opportunities are tied to the place whether a new arrival or an older member of the third or fourth generation. The current provision of housing by the local government, as well as the new provincial bill for the “elimination and prevention” of “slums” threatens to disturb not only the livelihood means of many residents of Motala Farm: it threatens to break apart a longstanding community.

The struggle in Motala Farm is just one example of the housing struggles all over South Africa. The national government, through the constitution, promised to provide proper housing to all in need as part of the effort to reduce the inequality that is partly a result of the underdevelopment of certain sectors of the society. However, it was recently recognized that simple provision of housing is not enough in the effort toward of poverty eradication, reduction of vulnerability, and promotion of inclusion, all of which are associated with reduction of inequality. The location of provided housing in a socially and economically viable place is as important as the housing provision itself. The pattern of removing poor people to the periphery has reached a breaking point.

However, this shift in approach has not yet been fully embraced by local government. Rather than consult with informal settlement residents to determine the best course of action to provide housing, the eThekwini municipality has chosen to give false promises and not communicate plans for informal settlements in the municipality with residents. This has caused the shack dwellers to take matters into their own hands and demand proper housing on their own terms through marches, direct action and court action. The future of the disadvantaged living in a survivalist manner hangs in balance. All depends on the power of the people and the willingness of the municipality and province to change their perception of housing delivery from mere provision of a good to the idea that it is the provision of increased quality of life that makes day to day survival a little easier.

Bibliography

Bagwandeen, D R (1983). The Question of ‘Indian Penetration’ in the Durban Area and Indian Politics 1940-1946. Ph.D. Thesis, Department of History: University of Natal.
Freund, B (1995). Insiders and Outsiders: The Indian Working Class of Durban 1910-1990. University of Natal Press: Pietermartizburg.
Harriss, J (2001). Depoliticizing Development: The World Bank and Social Capital. Anthem Press: London
Huchzermeyer, M (2006). “The new instrument for upgrading informal settlements in South Africa: Contributions and constraints” in M Huchzermeyer and A Karam, eds. Informal Settlements: A perpetual challenge? UCT Press: Cape Town: 41-61.
Majaraj, B (1995). “The Local State and Residential Segregation: Durban and the Prelude to the Group Areas Act.” South African Geographical Journal 77(1): 33-41.
Mchunu, N (2006). “Shack dwellers win court order against municipality.” The Mercury. Thursday, 30 November 2006. p. 5
Motala Heights Development Committee (2006). “Corruption and armed intimidation as Motala Heights evictions crisis deepens.” Indymedia South Africa. http://southafrica.indymedia.org/news/2006/08/10972.php. 19 August 2006.
Oldfield, S. “Partial formalization and its implications for community governance in an informal settlement.” Urban Forum: 102-113.
Province of KwaZulu Natal (2006). KwaZulu Natal Elimination and Prevention of Re-emergence of Slums Bill, 2006. Personal email from Richard Ballard, 1 December 2006.
Pithouse, R (2006) “Our Struggle is Thought, on the Ground Running: The University of Abahlali baseMjondolo.” Seminar, School of Development Studies, UKZN Howard College. 16 November 2006
Swanson, M (1983). “The Asiatic Menace: Creating Segregation in Durban, 1870-1900.” International Journal of African Historical Studies 16:401 -420.
The Constitution of South Africa. “Chapter 2: Bill of Rights.” http://www.polity.org.za/html/govdocs/constitution/saconst02.html?rebookmark=1#10.
White, W B (1981). The evolution of policy towards the Indians in Natal 1943-1948. MA Thesis, University of Natal: Durban.

Field Research

Subjects 1 – 28 were surveyed and interviewed on 14 November 2006.

Subjects 29 – 49 were surveyed and interviewed on 20 November 2006.

Subjects 50 – 62 were surveyed and interviewed on 24 November 2006.

Subjects 63 – 68 were surveyed and interviewed on 30 November 2006.

The case of Bhekuyise Ngcobo and others vs. eThekwini Municipality was scheduled to be heard 21 November 2006, and was rescheduled to 29 November 2006. On the latter date the matter was settled for the time being in the judge’s chambers, although the case will resurface later, according to the intern for Legal Resources.

Laura Huss: Internal & External Activism: Working Together at Kennedy Road

Internal & External Activism: Working Together at Kennedy Road

by Laura Huss
Spring 2006

I prepared a study to look deeper into the community of Kennedy Road and what is being done by those who live there. Be it the red, spray-painted numbers on the doors of the shacks or the growing numbers of people having to dwell in Kennedy Road, what can often be overlooked is the truth and reality of the situations of the humans, the individuals, who live in these shacks and who are labeled by the numbers and statistics. In an attempt to look into the lives of some of these individuals, it is necessary to see what it is they are doing for themselves to better the lives of their selves and their neighbors. So while the government is not providing houses for its citizens, the communities are raising awareness, and simultaneously furthering their daily needs.

While the struggle for better housing cannot be separated from the daily routines of life, activism, in many forms, is something that is ever present in the community. There exist various forms of activism and my study looks at two types being carried out by inhabitants of Kennedy Road. The community initiated and run crèche and their participation in the April 27th UnFreedom Day Rally with other community organizations and NGOs are two forms of activism working for change on different levels and for different individuals, but yet with a similar motivation of attempting to provide a better life for the poor. My topic engaged in these two types of activism to understand them more deeply as well as the shack dwellers movement beyond the micro level. During the process, what it is that many members of the community want and need from the government has become obvious in what they are doing for themselves in these living conditions.

Background

During a formal interview with S’bu Zikode, a resident and active member of the Kennedy Road community, I asked him why he does the work that he does for his community and he responded by saying, “…that is simple, I am natural, I am not for myself, I am for my community and for my country.” This mindset and reasoning is something that is present all throughout the Kennedy Road community, a mindset that is readily seen in the shack dwellers’ movement and the movement of those who feel unfree in the country of South Africa. After spending time at Kennedy Road the true nature of the passion in many of the active people in the community became quite obvious to me and I was able to see the number of community movements and organizations that have risen out of the daily struggles of the individuals.

The shack settlement of Kennedy Road is one that has come into the media and literature very recently as a result of the beginning work of Abahlali baseMjondolo. Abahlali baseMjondolo is a movement made up of 16 shack settlements in and around Durban, South Africa, but which has been continually growing with more and more supporters joining. One of the main conditions that must be understood about Abahlali baseMjondolo and the work that it does is that it is outside of the government sphere because individuals living in shack settlements know the vast separation between their own selves and those in power: “the government is too high to see what is happening at the grassroots level…they are so blind to see what we see.”

In 1993, very soon before Nelson Mandela’s democratic election as President, the South African government in waiting made an outreach to people living in shack settlements. This attempt was in the form of a meeting where Nelson Mandela and other African National Congress (ANC) leaders would be present to listen to the views of those living in shacks in Durban: “The ANC calls on all people living in squatter areas to make their voice heard! ‘Your Problems are My Problems. Your Solution is My Solution.’ says President Nelson Mandela.” The ironic element of the press release that advertised this meeting is that the beginning summarizes the housing crisis and the problems it is creating for many people, yet making it known that it is a result of apartheid: “The crisis in housing in South Africa is a matter which falls squarely at the door of the National Party regime and its surrogates…This is the result of apartheid.” This is something that in 1993 was not a dispute, but today, twelve years after freedom has supposedly been granted to all those living in South Africa, the problem lies in the hand of those who now have the power, the ANC. Organizations like Abahlali baseMjondolo know this and are now taking steps to prove to the government that they have neither listened to their views nor granted them proper living conditions. But, the attempts to listen to the shack dwellers have not been followed through with action, yet the same propaganda and media sympathy continues as it existed in 1993: “The project of overthrowing apartheid is only partially complete.”

The government of South Africa and the city of Durban may see their Slum Clearance Project of 2001 to be beneficial and a promising answer to the unlivable situations of many people in Durban, but the neither the rate or form of is acceptable to most shack dwellers. Kennedy Road is a settlement that has been a home for many since the 1970s and with each person I conversed with and interviewed, all emphatically declared a profound absence of development. And while the eThekwini Municipality was granted with “…the Kwazulu-Natal Local Authority of the Year for 2003 in recognition of…its significant contribution to the rapid delivery of housing for families living in unhygienic and life threatening environments,” children are dying and families are being greatly affected from the “life threatening environments” where they are still living in 2006.

In 2005, a shack fire, a common problem in settlements in the winter due to the dry weather and lack of electricity that then requires families to use candles for light, struck Kennedy Road burning 16 shacks and killing a one year old boy. Mhlengi Khumalo died as a result of insufficient needs that have been previously promised to the residents in Kennedy Road. Within the last few weeks, a shack fire burned over 60 shacks in Overport, at the Lacey Road shack settlement in Durban. Floods and fires are ruining homes and lives and not stopping anytime soon if the living conditions remain the same. Richard Pithouse, who reported on Mhlengi Khumalo’s death in 2005 continued his article by highlighting the problematic and lack of efforts on the part of the government towards service delivery:

“The eThekwini Metro has since informed Kennedy Road residents that there is a “new policy not to install electricity in shack settlements”. Their electrification policy openly states the following:

5. Shack settlements
In the past (1990s) electrification was rolled out to all and sundry. Because of the lack of funding and the huge costs required to relocate services when these settlements are upgraded or developed, electrification of the informal settlements has been discontinued.”

The problem concerning this retraction of electricity is that many of the injuries and deaths that are now occurring are a result of the absence of electricity. The government is not providing better housing, and nor are they providing pragmatic solutions to some of the existing problems, and herein lies the irony that the Municipality was acknowledged for its “significant contribution” that it provides for the citizens of Durban.

This evidence exemplifies the disconnection that obviously exists between the opinions, ideas and actions of the government and the inhabitants of Kennedy Road and other settlements. S’bu Zikode, the leader of Abahlali baseMjondolo, was quoted by Max du Preez as saying:

“Those in power are blind to our suffering, because they have not seen what we see, they have not felt what we feel every second, every day … President Thabo Mbeki speaks politics. Our premiers and mayors speak politics. But who will speak about the issues that affect the people every day – water, electricity, education, land, housing?”

This separation brings forward the movement that has risen among the shack dwellers and those realizing that the government is not providing for them with what they deserve. The UnFreedom Day Rally on April 27th, 2006 was evidence of this recognition and evidence that this cannot continue. At the Rally, a poster was held up by an individual that quoted, “No better life with our vote.” This statement is something that brings into light a protest that occurred in March 2006 for the local government elections. Members of Abahlali baseMjondolo refused to cast their vote for this election as a way of letting the government understand that their votes and voices are not providing them with better living conditions or even freedom for that matter. “Activists…face the constant choice between participating in the processes of government and opposing government…” , but it has come to the point where the movement of the shack dwellers must work for their own selves as they are seeing that the government is not for them.

This opposition to the state and the system has created a large number of community movements and organizations that focus on the betterment of different settlements. Abahlali baseMjondolo, as it works with multiple shack settlements “…has offered a way for residents of the settlements to reclaim their dignity, and to fight, rather than wait, for employment, housing and sanitation” Within the Kennedy Road community, many projects have emerged as a way of encouraging growth and the solidarity among the inhabitants of the settlement. What needs to be recognized, though, is that not all of the projects within the community are working for employment or housing or sanitation, they are working for many other issues that are not even in the scope of governmental delivery, but which may benefit greatly from the delivery. The Kennedy Road crèche is one of the organizations that are working for the community, but which takes a more inward stance on change, working inside and with help from the governmental Department of Welfare.

The Kennedy Road crèche is something that is working to provide some sort of safety, education and care for the younger generations of individuals who have to grow up and live around the dangers of this poverty. Mike Davis puts this and the entire struggle into a more statistical context when he writes in Planet of Slums that “Quite apart from the incidence of the HIV/AIDS plague, the UN considers that two out of five African slum-dwellers live in a poverty that is literally ‘life-threatening.'” When the government has the capabilities to improve these conditions, but is refusing to do so, the improvement is now falling into the hands of those who are, themselves, without. The theory that “communities sometimes take action when faced with government inaction” is now overwhelmingly present at Kennedy Road with organizations and projects working towards better housing, education for preschoolers, HIV/AIDS treatment, theater and art, skills training and working women.

The waiting time is over and the pressure is now being put on those in power. There are various tactics that are now being mobilized to apply this pressure, one being the gathering of numbers and the mobilization of more communities and another is the amount of attention that needs to be put on issues that are vital in improving the communities and awareness, such as rape and HIV/AIDS. Prior to the recent rally on April 27th, 2006, S’bu Zikode commented on the future of the movement and its tactics:

“‘we have a number of levels for our programme in Kennedy
Road. We have done the first level, we have waited. We have tried the second level of talking them. We are doing the third level by marching. If that doesn’t work, we have a fourth level. I cannot talk about it, I don’t know what it will be, but they will see.'”

Noticeably, the pressure and effort of those involved in the movement is not ceasing, but instead is only getting stronger with the numbers and the people who are now involved. What is becoming evident now in this movement with the Fishermen, Taxi Association, Flat Dwellers all on board with the Shack Dwellers is that this is a movement that is now highlighting the new apartheid that is dividing people as a result of their class.

“Sociologists, psychologists and political scientists will one day write learned theses about how it happened that a movement that grew out of the oppressed masses became an uncaring, elitist and classist party in just a few years.”

The future of the movement is now and the energy is becoming increasingly strong with the continual broken promises on the part of the government. What needs to be known is that regardless of what numbers or statistics are being put out about the number of houses being built and the amount of help that is being provided, many people are not seeing it and many people have not seen it for more than 20 years. Humans, individuals, people with great amounts of dignity and energy are living in conditions that harm them on a daily basis and it is beyond the point where a blind eye is going to make it go away:

“And maybe lastly, what the poor community needs to know is we are not created to be poor…if we do not change out attitude, nobody will change out life, I therefore command everyone to work together for a better life for all.”

Activism: How it is defined and how it is played out

The community of Kennedy Road and various other shack dwellers all around Durban have a right to be activists and have a right to protest against what it is they are not being given. Being an activist, although, comes in many forms and can be a result to many injustices. The research I have done and prepared looks at just this fact, that activism can and does take many forms. While formally interviewing many people I asked the question, “Define the term activism or what does the word activism mean to you?” Answers always varied based on what type of activism a person is mostly involved in, but a common thread was frequently evident. Activism for many people includes the idea that in order to be an activist you must be active. This idea is something that unconsciously motivated this study. Many middle class or governmental authorities, all over the world, complain about the laziness of the poor. The irony in this stereotype is that in order to be an activist about your own struggle, activity is one of the main requirements. Zodwa, a 21 year old resident of Kennedy Road who has lived in the shack settlement for four years, noted that in order to be an activist “you must be active in any how, even in talking, even in action.” What this leads into is the activity and the activism that many of the residents of the Kennedy Road shack settlement are engaging their selves in, completely disproving the stereotype that has permeated many of the minds of those unaware of the realities and movements of many poor communities.

In the time that I have spent at Kennedy Road I have learned about a number of Community Movements that are either being initiated, run and/or worked by the community members themselves. The Aids Treatment Group, The Clare Estate Drop-In Center, The Kennedy Road Development Committee, the Women to Women project, a skills training group, The Kennedy Road Play Group (Siyadlala Play Group) and the Kennedy Road Crèche are just a few of the projects that I have become acquainted with. These are not organizations that are started to counter this stereotype, but rather to attempt to improve and help the life of the community members. The daily challenges and how they can be helped is something that many of the community movement members are aiming towards. Zikode, the chairman of the Kennedy Road Development Committee, put it quite eloquently, but truthfully when he commented on the daily challenges of the community:

“For us, getting to understand ourselves, with our communities, nobody cares for us, nobody is worried about us, the challenges we are facing are for ourselves…we can be poor in life, not in mind, we are not poor in mind. I commend everyone to participate and for us not to be divided, the things that divide us are those things of the rich.”

What is happening now in the community and among the entire shack dwellers movement is broader than a direct focus on alleviating immediate struggles: “we are not fighting for houses only, we are fighting for a better life…” What I have seen is that there now exists a sense of joint struggle and mobilization of struggles because the immediate relief has been cut off by the government. Just as one of the banners for the UnFreedom day rally read, “12 YEARS DEMOCRACY THE POOR ARE STILL NOT FREE,” when the struggle has lasted this long, new tactics need to be acted out. These new tactics are combining the immediate gains with the long term goals and making the government understand that improved living comes with many changes, not just the addition of one new water tap. The ability to express this comes with the growth of the movement. Without numbers and a great mind of unity only isolated pockets of change seem to occur and only specific struggles are addressed. But now the movement is not just the movement of shack dwellers, but rather a movement of all who know they deserve more from the government.

S’bu Zikode, the current chairman of the Kennedy Road Development Committee (KRDC) and the president of Abahlali baseMjondolo, noted, “I would define activism as a mechanism for every human being to be able to differentiate between the right and wrong, false and truth…beyond this differentiation, it is acting for the poor to realize their dream.” This statement is a direct acknowledgement that he is not working towards an immediate reclamation of pragmatic resources, but rather is fighting for deserved rights to a better life. This fight and this struggle for the larger demands is one that is a lot more difficult, but yet that which brings the dignity out of those involved. M’du Hlongwa, the Deputy Secretary for Abahlali baseMjondolo, has passionately verbalized this dignity by saying that with activism “…you express it and you are proud of expressing it.” And this passion is something that is truly attained when you know your freedom is a right and not a privilege. What seems to be the problem that I have noticed throughout my research is what is addressed now and what is addressed later, after some of the service delivery is achieved. So many of the individuals and the communities have suffered for so long that the neglect has created drastic problems that are impossible to address all at the same time. This is where the necessity of inward and outward action comes into play and can be recognized at Kennedy Road, but the key is bringing light to this action so the problems can be given at least some recognition and hopefully attention to change them.

The Kennedy Road crèche: for the children and the community

The process of developing and becoming that the Kennedy Road crèche has undertaken began in 1985 with Nonhlanhla Mzobe and a social worker that witnessed her interaction with various young children around the Kennedy Road Community Hall. Nonhlanhla, then 15 years old, worked with one other woman in the initial stages of the crèche’s beginning. She originally pursued the furthering of the crèche with three small houses that were used (today they are the three huts that are in poor condition behind the community hall), one for playing and two for teaching. Durban Child Welfare (DCW) played a large part in aiding the start to the project and in providing a small amount of resources for the crèche. At the time, though, DCW was not willing to pay the salary for the teachers and wanted the parents to pay for sending their children to the preschool. This was not feasible and Nonhlanhla became a full time, unpaid volunteer. The crèche eventually moved from three rooms to one and became part of the Clare Estate Drop-In Center, which in itself is partially funded by the Department of Welfare and, aside from the teachers, staffed by unpaid volunteer workers. Lungile Mgube then became the head teacher at the crèche and recently within the last 3 months, Zama Ndlovu became the second teacher. Both of the teachers are given a monthly stipend, but the crèche is still free for the children who attend, yet only ages 2-5. Although there has been minor progress, it has come with numerous struggles that the crèche faces on a daily basis now. The challenges are in direct link to the lack of resources and service delivery from the government to the community as a whole. These problems are now also affecting the quality of education and care that the crèche is able to provide for the children.

Based on many interviews and discussions with various people who are linked to the crèche, the crèche exists for many different reasons and plays a variety of roles in the community for a large number of people. The parents at Kennedy Road who work or who are looking for work need to be able to send their children to a place that is free like the crèche. Because that it is run by and for the community, it instills a deeper sense of kinship and empowerment as to what the people of Kennedy Road can do to provide for one another. These qualities of trust and reliance, are very important for the parents of the children at the crèche. Zama Ndlovu, one of the teachers, put the necessity of the crèche for the parents in perspective when she said, “its helping a lot because free, first of all, and some are working for R300 a month.” The parents know where their children are during the day and they know they are safe and cared for.

The teachers and workers at the crèche are also benefactors of the organization. Now that the teachers are paid a monthly stipend, although still small, they can work at the crèche and devote more time to its function. Quite a few people are working in coordination with the crèche and the Clare Estate Drop-In Center, all working towards the betterment of their community. The energy and the confidence about the crèche and what it is doing is evident in the everyday interactions I have had with the teachers, but this confidence is very often shattered when they realize that the children deserve and need more to be healthy and educated. When the community is without too many needed resources, the workers at the crèche cannot be as confident as they should be because they know the community and the crèche suffer together.

With all else set aside, the crèche is “alive for the children.” Just as Zama has said, “…the crèche founder and teachers had the love for kids” and the crèche would not be around if it weren’t for the love and the reality of the children. With the harsh conditions of living alongside a busy road and a waste dump, the children living at Kennedy Road are at risk daily for their safety. Beyond this physical safety, the young children have a right to education. The crèche is teaching in both English and Zulu and Lungile has explained that the children living in the shacks at Kennedy Road do not know English, but the primary schools they are sent to around Clare Estate are Indian schools and the classes are taught only in English. The crèche then is able to teach some of the children English so they may further their education without being too far removed when they enter the school system. Along with English, the kids learn from daily exercises, the parts of the body, colors, farm animals, numbers, months of the year, days of the week, the weather, nursery rhymes and songs, letters of the alphabet, outdoor games and morning routines. The children play with puzzles, toys and a single swing set, but what is still obvious is that the crèche is struggling to provide a proper education for the children.

The resources are still lacking and the space has become too small to accommodate the number of children that are now attending the school. On a daily average, fifteen to twenty-five children attend the school in one room that is used for all of the activities. Each corner of the room is designated for different activity areas with plaques identifying each section: Quiet Area (Ingosi Yokuthula), Creative Art Area (Ingosi Yobungeweti), Block Area (Ingosi Yokwakha), Make Believe Area (Ingosi Yemidlalo Yokulingisa) and an unlabeled Sleeping Area. Children are expected to sleep and play and be creative in the same space and Lungile, one of the two teachers at the crèche, worries that “there is too much children in this place.” In many of my conversations with people about the crèche, one of the greatest needs expressed was that of space, but many were pessimistic about the reality of this coming to be. Mr. Zikode stated rightfully so that the “government should provide kids with a proper platform for our kids to grow.” The crèche does not have a proper physical platform for which the children can learn and grow. There are no tables, no stools, no books, no materials for writing or painting and not enough toys.

Along with educational materials, the lack of proper food is also a pressing issue for the children and those running the crèche. The Drop-In Center is very acknowledging and thankful to Mr. Vishnu Jagarnath from nearby Reservoir Hills for the free food he provides the crèche with on a weekly basis: rice, potatoes, carrots and cabbage. Any donation is useful, but without a sufficient amount of vegetables and fruit, the children are not receiving a balanced diet. Along these same lines, the only meal that many of the children eat on a daily basis is at the crèche. Lungile commented that “we can’t teach the hungry children.” This is not to be seen as a comment that aims to turn children away from coming to the crèche to learn, but more as a cry for help that was preceded by her statement that “too much children here suffer.”

In conjunction with physical safety, it has come to my attention throughout the process of my research that the young girls at the crèche, still between ages two and five, are at risk for being raped or sexually abused if they are left alone during the day while their parents are at work. When a child is left to its own devices and under the watch of others who may be harmful, “there is so many bad things that can happen to a child if neglected.” The crèche as a means of protection and prevention against rape has been a consistent trend in my interviews with many people surrounding the crèche, but also one that brings up another string of issues.

Rape is something that is unfortunately evident in communities all over the world and is only dealt with if proper safety and repercussions are available for and instilled on citizens and perpetrators respectively. According to Mrs. Cibane, the woman who cooks for the children at the crèche, rape is a very dangerous thing happening to the young kids in the community. Zandile Nsibande, the current supervisor for the volunteers at the Clare Estate Drop-In Center, made it known that children are very vulnerable, especially the young girls. In a specific rape instance in Kennedy Road, a three year old girl, who regularly attends the crèche, was violated by an uncle. The cases in Kennedy Road involving children, if uncovered, are referred to the Durban Children’s Society and the children are also taken to the doctor and police. The problem that surrounds these cases is that they are often not won because the parents of the children are not capable of hiring lawyers to counter the lawyers that the suspects may have. Among other things, Zandile sees the crèche as a place that is aiming to decrease the number of rape cases within the community by keeping the children safe. Zama, too, sees that the crèche is working “for safety of kids, especially young girls.”

What needs to be understood on the most fundamental level is what the crèche is able to achieve and what it instills in the children in the community: the value of education. Zodwa, a 21 year old active youth in the community, said that “you must raise the child with the education…if your kid does not have education; the kid does not have a key to life.” But once again, this education is being undermined and cut short by the lack of service delivery from the government and the lack of awareness given to community movements like this one. In accordance with the education that is provided for the children and the community with the presence of the crèche. The success of the crèche has been two fold as it:

“…resembles a paradise of public-private partnership, where the state has fully retreated, successfully shirking its obligations to its citizens, and yet where the citizens still receive public goods. The preschool exists in defiance of the state…And resources within the community have also been mobilized in support of other struggles.”

Although the crèche suffers from “capacity constraints,” the successes that the crèche has brought to the Kennedy Road community are more than just ‘development gains.’ The fact that the crèche provides safety, education, dignity, respect and opportunities for the children of Kennedy Road are more than most “significant development gains” can claim to ever have achieved.

Preparations for the UnFreedom Day Rally

Kennedy Road and a few other communities have been involved in Abahlali baseMjondolo only very recently.

“After a period of relative quiet, many of the same people who had fought against apartheid took to the streets again in the mass-movements that have emerged post-apartheid, protesting the policies of the new, African-led government…
One of the more recent “movements” began with large protests from Durban’s Kennedy Road shack settlement against their local councilor, which then inspired and grew
into Abahlali baseMjondolo (ABM), an organization of shack-dwellers.”

What is needed with movements such as this one, which are not only focusing on single band-aid deliveries from the government, is a mobilization of more communities and more people with similar motives and goals. The UnFreedom Day rally was attempting to, and seemingly did, accomplish this goal: “…as we managed to bring people together from different areas and we got together and our views and our voices got some kind of dignity.” This is something that Abahlali baseMjondolo has focused on since its beginnings as well.

“In this year the Abahlali have withstood systematic state repression, including a total of 84 arrests on criminal charges, to grow from a struggle begun by a few hundred people in one shack settlement to a movement that has mobilised tens of thousands of people.”

Historically in South Africa, April 27th is a National Holiday that celebrates the idea of Freedom. For 2006, various community organizations operating in poor communities and Abahlali baseMjondolo met met together to decide how it was they wanted to spend Freedom Day. Instead of celebrating on April 27th, people from many communities decided that this day would be made the first official UnFreedom Day. This concept is something that is supported by the rationale that many different ideas of freedom have been implemented in South Africa, but these ideas are not what many feel that freedom actually is.

The day was to be held in the form of a rally where voices could be heard, artistic expression could be displayed and performed and people would have the ability to mourn on the fact that they are not free. This very large scale example of activism has many levels of expression and a philosophy that in order to create inward change, protest of government and its policies is necessary. The day was not focused on pragmatic changes, but on the fact that freedom cannot solely be met by a constitution or a democratic government.

The UnFreedom Day Rally and preparations were coordinated by a committee of community leaders from the various groups that were going to be represented. Separate smaller committees were created in order to break up the logistical responsibilities: City Committee, Pamphlet Committee, Program Committee, Marshals Committee, Publicity Committee and Finance Committee. Funding for the day was provided for by “the Church Land Programme, the Foundation for Human Rights and the Centre for Civil Society.” The larger preparation meetings were held in both English and Zulu and were forums for decision making and open comments that brought together ideas of the day, mobilizing techniques and the creation of an energy and philosophy of the day and the concept of UnFreedom that many of the community members could pass on to their specific communities. The sense and idea of solidarity became something that was necessary for the day and for the communities to understand. It has come to the attention of many that the government is not listening to the pockets of poor people of this country. For this reason, the unity of struggles for all of those who have felt unfree for too long was the motivation and energy that pushed the rally forward. All of the communities, as well as the Fishermen and Taxi Association, have different needs, but there exists the most basic understanding that in order to meet these needs freedom needs to first be had.

In an attempt to understand the role of the Youth in the movement and in the act of preparing for the rally, I facilitated the making of the banners that would be displayed at the rally. Any sort of forum that allows for the articulation of a struggle promotes a sense of freedom to express. As a youth myself I understood that those who are older often have more freedom and power to freely voice their selves. Therefore, in order for youth to have the ability to voice themselves and see their voice, painting banners and images was a way to physically portray the voices of the youth. According to Mr. Zikode, “without youth taking part, all will come to nothing…role youth are playing are vital, youth form the majority of our society.” Although this is very true and the younger generations must feel the openness to their own opinions, we are often undermined in our abilities and awareness.

The role that banner making and mural creating has on individuals brings forward a whole other type of activism. What is important about banners is that they enforce the sense of solidarity in movements and can prove to the government or those on the outside that many people have similar opinions and are not afraid to write them down and show them. “Making banners is one of sending a message to the outside world…we cannot speak all of us, but with the banners we can raise them” (Zodwa 4/28). The banners were created days before the rally and this in itself played a role in the mobilization of people of understanding what UnFreedom Day was going to be about. It also had the ability of bringing people together to allow them to form cohesion.

All throughout the planning process, it became known to me who the people were that were leaders in the various communities. I soon became skeptical of how the rally was being started and if the masses that came would have the ability to voice their own concerns and not feel pressured to rely on the community leaders to be the spokespersons for their voices. But, with the way that the day played out and how the program was set up, I was soon able to find comfort in the fact that this day was not one that solely catered to consolidated voices, but rather highlighted the fact that many voices exist and are individuals in the greater struggle for the communities. This day may have been aimed at the unity of those who are unfree and suffering, but it did not deny the fact that these groups of people are humans who live with dignity and voices and means of expression.

April 27th, 2006: UnFreedom Day and the Freedom to come

“On April 27th Durban will be mourning during its first
‘UnFreedom Day’ event. Communities from throughout Durban’s
social movements join forces to mourn the denial of their collective rights, and to celebrate the strength that enables communities to work together, across barriers of race, during a day of cultural celebration and political actions.”

The day was not solely about demanding rights, but about making a point for the individuals and the government that this day does not deserve to be celebrated unless all people can celebrate the freedom that they have seemingly attained. This was a day to mobilize and bring together those who were mourning and to create a space open to and willing to create the freedom that has been lost.

The rally was attended by various members of a number of communities in the Durban area. People from “the Abahlali baseMjondolo Movement, Women of Ward 80 (Umlazi), South Durban Residents, Chatsworth Flat Residents, Marianridge, Merebank, Sydenham, Newlands, and many other areas” were represented and were included in the four hour programme of performances and speakers. Some of the community organizations that joined Abahlali for this rally were organizations that the movement had been working with for some time. Others were working with Abahlali for the first time. The day began with minibuses and coach buses of individuals from all of these areas gathering at St. Johns Hall in Clare Estate on Rippon Road. The crowds filtered into the hall in groups and leaders of each community took hold of the microphone and began by joining people in protest song, toyi-toying and chants. The positive and motivated energy was felt from the second that each person began their turn on the microphone with “Amandla!”. The banners made by the youth were displayed all over the hall, enforcing the more voices and feelings that may not have been heard on the stage during the day and each person who walked in was given a red and black t-shirt with the words “UNFREEDOM DAY 2006: ASIKHULEKILE” on the front and “NO FREEDOM FOR THE POOR: AYIKHO INKULULEKO KWABAMPOFU” on the back. As the program began, the young children were moved to sit on the floor in the front of the room and the older generation was encouraged to sit in the chairs in the front. It was quite obvious that everyone there had the energy and will to express and join those who were suffering similarly. A number of speeches began the program with S’bu Zikode making opening remarks to hand the stage over to the various acts that were planned for the day.

Each community that had signed up the week prior to have a talent act on stage was allocated 7.5 minutes to perform. Gospel Choirs, youth dance groups, solo singers, rap groups and dancers took the stage raising the energy of the crowd and enforcing the freedom of action and speech that people were granted at the rally. In between the talent acts were bits and pieces of chanting for the needs of the communities and speeches from more community leaders. Time was taken out of the day to recognize the shack fire that had occurred at Lacey Road four days prior, burning more than 60 shacks. By the end of the day, people were seemingly motivated to continue this new mobilization of concerns from the various communities. What encouraged and riled people together was the fact that many did not know that this many people were suffering:

“during that rally fishermen, sailors, flat dwellers, informal traders, shack dwellers…all mixing together with one goal…the main idea was to send a message to the state, we are free, but people are still suffering.”

The thoughts about the rally and the movement forward are just as important, or maybe even more important, than what happened on April 27th. What the rally has done is that “it has created a connection between all the poor people who are suffering.” People were proud of the rally, they were proud of the numbers that attended, they were proud of the creativity that they saw on stage and visually, they were proud of the fact that they created a space for their own selves to openly be free and have the ability to express their lack of freedom: “everyone was free to say how unfree he is.” The message was sent and the day was successful in what it was trying to accomplish: “if they were undermining our voices I think from that rally something is going to change even before we take a step forward.”

What needs to be addressed now are the forward steps that need to occur since April 27th. A vital point is happening now in the movement where the people are starting to gather and the struggles are known, but the trouble lies in how the government is going to see the strength behind these struggles. M’du’s suggestions are to go directly to the officials and express what it is that is needed or wanted. He added that members of the movement should be appointed to go straight to the officials to “tell them straight what we feel.” Other suggestions and ideas expressed by Zodwa, a member of Abahlali baseMjondolo and a youth living at Kennedy Road, are the continuing of mass organization through meetings: “meetings should be done because it is a way of encouraging us not to give up…if you don’t meet more often people will give up.”

At this point too, a large part of the movement is gaining the numbers and increasing the voices. The more that the people outside of the movement and outside of the government are able to know about the struggle, the more pressure the government will feel to provide delivery to all of the citizens of South Africa. Zama noticed this from the rally and recognized the importance of having the media and the people outside of the movement become aware of the struggle: “I think the rally managed to draw the media…by that way most people will get to know about the shack dwellers struggle, flat dwellers and so on.”

The movements needs to and is continuing to grow and in this there needs to be a consolidating of what is being demanded. In a movement where many groups join forces because it is necessary for government attention, it is difficult because the specific problems of one group are not necessarily the same problems of another. M’du noticed this trend while commenting that there are many people coming with different problems and saying that learning how to deal with this is “not that hard, but it’s a challenge if you are not a professional on dealing with people’s issues.” It is exciting though to see the bonding of various groups of people and the recognition of a bonding over various levels of interests and differences. Zodwa humbly admitted that she “didn’t realize that even fishermen have problems” and that “even the street vendors are interested in what we are doing.”

What needs to be recognized in looking at the larger struggle against the smaller individual and community resistance is that there also exists a sense of a woman’s struggle in the emerging united movement. We women often undermine our own fight for recognition and equality as to not distract from the other struggles that may be taking place. There comes a time, though when awareness is necessary so to further put pressure on the possibility of oppression that may be taking place.

I have come to these understandings as a result of a few observations, two of which I will detail here. One observation is involving the crèche and other Abahlali community projects and one is regarding the rally of the combined organizations. A majority of the community projects that I learned about that are working for the Kennedy Road community are run by women. This is not something to be ignored and it should be known that women are working very hard for the struggles of their community, but also largely on the ground level. This is something, though, that is not uncommon for many communities:

“The most important institutions in poor people’s lives are often gender-segregated…one important consequence of differential access and exclusion from the powerful social networks is that women invest heavily in informal social support mechanisms with other women.”

The questions I have about this situation are those that require further investigation into the topic, but it has been obvious that this is true at Kennedy Road. The women I have met in the community are doing amazing work from the crèche to work with DSW to Aids Treatment for the community and so on. It is likely that in the many community organizations that joined together with Abahlali for this rally there is a similar commitment to amazing community work by women. However at the rally of the combined organizations I observed a more male-dominated expression of voices and I wonder why it is that women are not equally represented in the leadership of all these organisations. At the rally, a woman from a Johannesburg NGO was visiting for the day and was heavily involved in the gathering of voices and the toyi-toying, chanting, of the day (I must note here that there were a few other women taking the stage that day to speak, but the energy they raised and attention they were given was not comparable to this woman). Although this was very positive in representing women and her energy was constant all throughout the day, I wonder why a woman who is not directly from Durban or from the communities represented was the leading female figure. This is an issue that needs to be addressed and not overlooked by the accomplishments or struggles of the movement as a whole.

Women are overly deserving of a change in the recognition they are given and in the roles they play in large movements aiming for change. In doing this, a larger awareness will become available for the movement towards gender equality and the work that many women do for their communities will be rightfully recognized.

In terms of the role of women in the community projects, most of the women are working with one another in these organizations. This is something that often allows women to forget about the inequality and the struggle because we are then constantly surrounded by empowered women and not feeling undermined by the actions or voices of men. This is where the element of exposure comes into place. When the attention is brought to the issue of gender stratification, it is easier for us to notice what is going on and how it can be changed. But, once again, herein lays the problem of how the needs are going to be met when basic life needs are still not being provided.

Many important issues are having the same problem as the women’s struggle because of the lack of exposure and proper delivery, and this was even evident at the UnFreedom Day Rally. The day was full of performances, speeches, banners and chanting, but only certain issues were addressed through these means of expression. Issues and the problems surrounding rape, women’s roles, domestic violence, children’s rights and education and more were not given the time to be mentioned or touched on. These issues need more recognition and exposure and forums like the rally are great spaces to do this. The more that is known about the larger movement and the more that is accomplished is what is going to add more to these issues at large, but we cannot wait that long.

In terms of what was addressed, the personal importance of the rally and the community importance of the rally is something to be recognized and one that brings up new realizations. No one went home that day after the rally and had electricity or more access to water or better access to education, but people went home with an understanding of how they can fight and what can be learned along the way. Zodwa put it very truthfully when she put the rally in the context of its importance to her community by saying that the rally,

“…is to show that it is not only Kennedy Road that is
having a problem, it is not only blacks that are having a problem,it is Indians, Coloureds…your problem as an Indian is my problem as an African.”

Conclusion

Throughout the course of my research and analysis I have come to many realizations about the state of living that people deal with each and every day at Kennedy Road. I have come to understand that the struggle for housing, sanitation, electricity, education, health care and/or general basic necessities is a struggle that is never off of the minds of those who are without. With the acknowledgement that many have not seen any sort of development coming from the government in the 20, 15, 10, 5 or 2 years that they have lived at Kennedy Road, this has pushed them to attempt to provide for their own selves and their community while they continually put pressure on those in power. There have been great strides towards improving the living and social conditions for the members of the community, but it is all coming very slowly as the availability for basic needs weakens the strength of the progression. The community projects and organizations that I have come to learn about have instilled in me opinions about the strength, effort, dignity and passion that the community members have for their work and their struggle.

Going back to the universally false stereotype and assumption of the laziness of the poor and the false opinion that their demands for their communities are undeserving, I feel that I have been able to disprove these notions and present the fact that work is being done and laziness is not something that has been seen or felt all throughout my study. It also needs to be known that a lot of this work has grown out of the lack of delivery from the government and the conditions under which the projects are being implemented are those that are under-provided-for. What has shocked me is the amount of work that has come out of the harshly life-threatening living and working conditions.

As has been presented in this study, there is a relevance to studying internal and external activism with one another. Although they work on different levels and create different changes, the junction between them is one that should be recognized. As Zodwa noted in our conversation, the “crèche beings the children together and the rally brings all the people together, so they have similarities.” She brought forward some very necessary components of activism: activity and mobilization. But of course there is a disjunction between the two as well and the paradox of the needs of the crèche being jeopardized by the needs of the external movement is one that is going to be of concern when more issues concerning the communities are addressed. This is seen with regards to the pragmatic needs that are being demanded of the external movement, as they are necessary, they sometimes do overlook the deeper community concerns of rape, nutrition, gender roles and more. Taking the crèche as an example proves that without the development, the crèche cannot continue properly, but if the crèche does not continue properly, then the awareness about the rape of the children cannot come out and if this does not come out then the help cannot be provided. The problem that continues now is that the internal movement is, at the moment, paralyzed to what it has the ability to do because of the limitations being built by the external movement and the government. This is why so many important issues are not getting the attention they deserve. But the link between the internal and external activism and the abilities they have to help one another in the same struggle is quite strong if the availability for movement is there. The more that is recognized and the more awareness that is brought to these internal issues, the more outside organizations and government aid can be of help.

Energy and passion are what are going to have the ability to back the awareness with the absence of the governmental delivery. The community of Kennedy Road shows evidence of immense amounts of energy and passion and the people working as activists for their community truly care for what they are doing and what they know they deserve as human beings:

“Our people must always be united, we shouldn’t let
anyone to defeat us…if we keep on being united, no one can
defeat us. ” – Zodwa Nsibande

“I have come to this world to do my service…it is my
commitment and it is what I live for…the only thing that I am surviving for for me is doing service to my community…it is in my veins.” – S’bu Zikode

“Even though we are struggling we can do some things” – Zama Ndlovu

“It’s me…my motivation because there is nobody…
it’s my heart, I like to do this thing.” – Lungile Mgube

References:
Written Source References

Ballard, Richard. “Social Movements in Post-Apartheid South Africa: An Introduction.” Pp. 78-96 in Peris Jones & Kristian Stokke (eds.), Democratising Development: The Politics of Socio-Economic Rights in South Africa. Leiden: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers, 2005.

Bryant, Jacob. Towards Delivery and Dignity: Community Struggle from Kennedy Road.
Unpublished Article. School for International Training Independent Study
Project. 2005.

Davis, Mike. “Planet of Slums: Urban Involution and the Informal Proletariat.” New Left Review. March-April 2004.

Du Preez, Max. ‘Shacks of Fear,’ 17 November 2005. URL (Consulted April 2006):
www.dailynews.co.za

Grimmet, Neville. ‘Slums Clearance Policy,’ 17 September 2004. URL (Consulted April 2006): www.durban.org.za

Khan, Fazel and Pithouse, Richard. “Durban: a new enemy moves into sight – a bitter struggle looms,” Centre for Civil Society. 9 September 2005. URL (consulted
April 2006): www.ukzn.ac.za/ccs

Khan, Firoz and Pieterse, Edgar. “The Homeless People’s Alliance: Purposive Creation
and Ambiguated Realities.” UKZN Centre for Civil Society and School of Development Studies. 2004. URL (Consulted April 2006): www.ukzn.ac.za/ccs

Makhaye, Dumlsane. African National Congress. ‘Southern Natal Statement On The Housing Crisis.’ 9 November 1993. URL (Consulted April 2006): www.anc.org.za/ancdocs/pr/1999/pr0604a.html

Narayan, Deepa. Voices of the Poor: Can Anyone Hear Us? New York: Oxford University Press, 2000.

Patel, Rajeev. “Is Solidarity With Africa Possible?” and other debates from the University of Abahlali Base Mjondolo. Unpublished Article. 2006.

Pithouse, Richard. ‘Mhlengi Khumalo is gone.’ Centre for Civil Society. URL (Consulted April 2006): www.ukzn.ac.za/ccs.2005.

Pithouse, Richard. “‘Our struggle is thought on the ground running’: The University of Abahlali baseMjondolo.” Unpublished Article. 2006.

‘Press Release.’ URL (Consulted April 2006): http://voiceoftheturtle.org/raj/blog//Unfreedompress-English.pdf

Smith, Charlene. “Keeping it in Their Pants: Politicians, Men, and Sexual Assault in South Africa.” Pp. 143-153 in Amanda Alexander (ed.), Articulations: A Harold Wolpe Memorial Lecture Collection. Trenton: Africa World Press, 2006.

‘The Third Nelson Mandela.’ URL (Consulted April 2006): www.voiceoftheturtle.org

‘UnFreedom Day 2006: Asikhululekile.’ Pamphlet: April 2006.

‘Unofficial Press Release From Today’s March and Repression.’ Centre for Civil Society.
URL (Consulted April 2006): http://sa.indymedia.org/news/2005/11/9175.php

Interview References

• S’bu Zikode (31 years old) – interviewed on April 28th – is the chairman of the Kennedy Road Development Committee and the current president of Abahlali baseMjondolo. He is has been living at Kennedy Road for ten years.

• Zama Ndlovu (24 years old) – interviewed on April 20th, May 3rd – is one of the two teachers at the Kennedy Road Crèche and the founder of the Kennedy Road Play Group. She is a member of Abahlali baseMjondolo and has been living at Kennedy Road for about four years.

• Mrs. Cibane (36 years old) – interviewed April 24th – is a volunteer at the Kennedy Road Crèche who cooks all of the food and meals for the children and visitors at the Clare Estate Drop-In Center. She is also a parent of children who attend the crèche.

• Lungile Mgube (33 years old) – interviewed on April 25th – is the one of the two teachers at the Kennedy Road Crèche and is currently attending a two year training workshop for teaching.

• Patience (22 years old) – interviewed on April 25th – is the mother of two and her son, Phumlani, is a student at the Kennedy Road crèche. She has been living at Kennedy Road for eight years.

• Zandile Nsibande– interviewed on April 25th – is the supervisor for the volunteers in the Clare Estate Drop-In Center, a volunteer for the Kennedy Road Aids Treatment Group, the coordinator for a support group focusing on those infected with HIV/AIDS and a member of Abahlali baseMjondolo.

• Nonhlanhla Princess Mzobe– interviewed on April 26th – is the co-founder of the Kennedy Road Crèche, a member of Abahlali baseMjondolo and was the Project Manager for three years for Durban Solid Waste (DSW).

• Zodwa Nsibande (21 years old) – interviewed on April 28th – is a youth involved with Abahlali baseMjondolo and has been living at Kennedy Road for four years.

• An interviewee from Jadhu Place who wishes to remain anonymous (27 years old) – interviewed on May 3rd – is a member of Abahlali baseMjondolo and has been living at Jadhu Place for five years.

• M’du Hlondwa (26 years old) – interviewed on May 3rd – is the Deputy Secretary of Abahlali base Mjondolo. He is a resident of the Lacey Road shack settlement and has been living there for two years now.

Jessica Harris: Towards a Poor People’s Movement? A survey of Durban activists views on struggle, unity and the future

TOWARDS A POOR PEOPLE’S MOVEMENT? A SURVEY OF DURBAN ACTIVISTS’ VIEWS ON STRUGGLE, UNITY, AND THE FUTURE

November 2006

(Download the attachment for the fully footnoted version)

Jessica Harris

Introduction

In 1994, apartheid came to an end with the election of ANC candidate Nelson Mandela to the office of President under the campaign slogan, “A better life for all.” Yet, nearly 13 years after the ANC’s 1994 victory, unemployment in some parts of South Africa is nearly 50 percent, and many thousands are living without housing, electricity, or water. These conditions, combined with the co-option of many of the “old avenues of opposition” (ANC, COSATU, SACP, etc) into the new government, gave rise to a new generation of social movements in South Africa.

In this paper, I argue that while there is great diversity within post-apartheid Durban’s CBOs and social movements, the organizations I examined effectively utilize openings in political opportunity, framing, and resource mobilization in such a way that enhanced unity is possible. However, I qualify this argument by contending that the movements will not coalesce until they cultivate agreement on a common political project.

I begin by reviewing a sample of relevant literature in order to establish a theoretical framework. Then, I turn to the research. Interviews with members of two Durban CBOs, Westcliff Flat Residents Association and Wentworth Development Forum, and one of the few remaining Durban social movements – Abahlali baseMjondolo – underpin my findings. I examine the ways in which activists frame their demands (in the language of rights and as reminders to the government to keep its promises), their organizations (as powerful community guardians and as democratic voices of the poor), and their enemies (local and/or national government).

I then explore the matter of unity. I find that while there is near unanimity among activists that increased unity would be valuable, there is much dissension regarding the forms it should take. My interviews expose a great deal of infighting within communities and among organizations, shattering the romanticized portrait of social movements so many authors have put forth.

I examine the debate over two possible forms of unity, centralization and forums, with specific emphasis on a forum in which each of the organizations I have investigated once participated – the Social Movements Indaba. Finally, I discuss two logistical obstacles activists face, lack of resources and political divisions, as well as a structural issue that may well be at the heart of the difficulties in achieving unity: disagreement over a common political project. However, my interviews reveal that despite conflicts, activists are optimistic about their future.

The Birth of the Struggle

Westcliff Flat Residents Association

Westcliff Flat Residents Association (WFRA) was formed by community members of Unit 3 in Chatsworth, a historically Indian township created by the infamous Group Areas Act during apartheid. Residents live in flats owned by the municipality, built by the apartheid government 44 years ago. The flats are in “a state of gross disrepair,” brandishing peeled paint, cracked walls, and leaky pipes. They were not renovated for 42 years and when they were, the repairs were superficial.

The WFRA was established after the attempted eviction of an unemployed woman and her five children. The whole community rallied together, and with the help of a local ANC member, they were able to stay the eviction and eventually win an interdict in court. According to a WFRA leader: “That was the beginning… It was a true chance of mobilizing in the communities around Chatsworth” in which about 60% of residents were facing eviction. Local activists took advantage of the space created by the community’s outrage over the eviction, and they formed WFRA. WFRA later joined a movement called the Concerned Citizens Forum (CCF). Though most of the CCF’s composite organizations still exist separately from each other, the CCF soon collapsed amidst racial acrimony, for reasons no one in the WFRA seems to grasp.

Activists in WFRA remember their founding moments well. One member recalls forming a human chain in front of the door and refusing to allow security in. Several indignantly recount the brutality with which the police handled the situation, letting loose dogs and tear gas into the crowd. Many proudly remember one of their leaders getting bitten by a dog but standing her ground. The event is well-entrenched in activists’ memories, a founding legend they all know well.

Abahlali baseMjondolo

Abahlali baseMjondolo is a movement of shack dwellers. It began in the Kennedy Road shack settlement that houses nearly 7,000 people in only about 1,200 shacks. Richard Pithouse writes: “There are 4 official taps for drinking water and another (illegally connected) tap for washing hands, 6 poorly maintained portable toilets, and no refuse collection…” Abahlali members complain that when it rains, everything is muddy. They worry about the health of children who grow up in a place that is always wet. Worse, because they lack electricity, they are forced to rely on paraffin which has led to many deadly fires. Members say they were promised houses long ago and have tired of waiting.

Abahlali was formed in March 2005 when angry residents of Kennedy Road decided to take action upon learning that they would not receive land near Elf Place that they had been promised. Over 700 shack dwellers filled the streets, burning tires and blocking traffic. Fourteen protestors were arrested, and in the fury that followed, Abahlali was born.

Like the WFRA, Abahlali utilized an opening in political opportunity structures. Before its formation, few if any organizations directly addressed the needs of shack dwellers. Pithouse argues that “this was because shack dwellers [unlike flat dwellers], lacking access to housing, water and electricity were not at risk of eviction and disconnection.” Thus, Abahlali was formed to fill a void, to represent the needs of a neglected segment of society. Jacob Bryant argues that Abahlali also successfully created its own opportunities, taking full advantage of the press it received at its first march, effectively mobilizing other shack dwelling communities, and constantly holding the threat of protest over the councilors’ heads.

All of the Abahlali members I interviewed knew the story of the Elf Place protest. They recalled their first march with pride. Most members mentioned that the 14 activists who were arrested have become known as “the 14 Heroes,” a framing that will forever memorialize Abahlali’s founding martyrs.

The Wentworth Development Forum

The Wentworth Development Forum was established in the historically “Coloured” township of Wentworth in the South Durban basin. Many of the Wentworth residents live in flats that are in similar conditions to those of Chatsworth. Community members complain of overcrowding, with up to 15 people living in a one-bedroom flat. Drug and alcohol abuse, high unemployment, and crime (especially rape) have plagued the community for years.

To fight these problems, community activists formed a number of development organizations during apartheid, but although they were all working on development, activists recognized that “there was no development happening.” So, in 1994, activists created a political space by collapsing the various inefficient organizations into the Wentworth Development Forum (WDF). It was to be “one structure to deal with all of the development issues.”

Unlike WFRA and Abahlali, most Wentworth activists do not recall a single mobilizing event or even the year that WDF was founded. But, they do remember the creation of WDF as the birth of unity in the community, a first step in a long struggle. One member described the beginning of WDF as a moment of “coming together,” of the community saying, “enough is enough.” The fact that most WDF activists do not remember its formation may indicate a weak internal culture in the organization, but I suspect the explanation lies rather in the fact that WDF is 13 years old.

This section has explored the circumstances in which WFRA, Abahlali, and WDF emerged. The next examines the ways in which they frame their demands.

Building Diagnostic Frames

Every organization is formed to meet certain goals and to win certain concessions. The language activists use to describe these objectives is vital to their success in achieving them. I will not attempt to evaluate the validity of activists’ claims because their framings need not accurately describe reality. They simply must be believable and resonant.

While each of the activists I interviewed emphasized different demands, their framing of these demands was remarkably similar. Two broad categories emerged: activists often spoke in the language of rights, insisting that they had a right (either constitutional or natural) to their claims; additionally, many activists stressed that the government owes them because it has failed to deliver on its promises and has therefore betrayed the people. I will begin by exploring the “language of rights” framing and then address the “broken promises and betrayal” framing.

Creating a Language of Rights

In interview after interview, activists emphasized that they are only trying to defend their rights. In Westcliff, members insisted that poor people are not granted the same rights as others but that as citizens contributing to the country’s revenue, they deserve to be treated equally. Similar sentiments were echoed by residents of Kennedy Road: “It should be our government but it’s a government for the rich people, not for the poor” and in Wentworth: “In the new government, we don’t even feature as human beings.”

Some focused on their rights as citizens. They maintained that the Constitution guarantees they not be homeless. A few went further, contending that they had a right to a house in the place where they lived. One Foreman Road resident angrily complained, “The councilors treat Abahlali like they are children just because we are poor – but they cannot tell me I do not deserve to own a house. It is my constitutional right.”

Others underscored their rights as human begins. One activist lamented, “Without a house, you feel dehumanized.” Another added, “It’s not healthy to live in these conditions [in the shacks] – it’s not the way people are supposed to live.”

Activists’ claims ranged from their right to a house (“We were poor, unarmed civil society only trying to defend our right to our house” ), to their right to protest (“Protesting is our democratic right. We must exercise our rights” ), to their right to water and electricity (“Flat dwellers are also human beings. They don’t deserve to have their water and electricity cut” ) to their right to a better life and a better life for their children (“The government has not spent a cent on the local community with regard to giving people their constitutional right of a better life for all of us” ).

Addressing Broken Promises

While many activists frame their demands in the language of rights, others frame them as legitimate requests for the government to fulfill its promises. This framing is strategic because it gives activists the moral high ground and allows them to claim that they are not fighting against the state but simply reminding it to fulfill its promises.
Among the unfulfilled promises activists cited were: housing, land, development, free water and electricity, free education, jobs, and of course “a better life for all.” Many activists spoke of feeling deceived by the government, of being tricked into voting for the ANC only to find out they had been “bluffed.” A pensioner from the WFRA quietly lamented: “People [from the ANC] came and bluffed us. They said they would fix everything. They made us to vote for them. But no one came back after the vote.”

Activists’ grievances regarding the state’s failure to deliver on its promises often revealed hurt and anger at the government’s perceived betrayal of the people. At a WFRA meeting, one Wentworth activist railed: “This government up until today that we have voted for and believed in has turned on us, the poor people.” Feelings of being forgotten by the government were repeated in interview after interview. Disillusionment was rife: “They promised us a lot of things but we voted for them and nothing happened. They’re only bluffing us;” “We were all betrayed by the government;” “They have forgotten about poor people. They have forgotten what they promised us.”

Members of all three organizations reiterated their desire for the government to fulfill its promises but while WFRA and WDF members were often openly hostile to the ANC, Abahlali members were quick to emphasize their neutrality towards or even support for the ANC. They framed their demands not as an attack on the state, but rather as a friendly if uncompromising reminder. At a workshop I attended, one Abahlali activist forcefully stated: “Abahlali is not fighting with the government.” This sentiment was echoed by many interviewees. A member of the Foreman Road committee put it simply: “The government promised land and housing. Abahlali is only asking for what the government promised. We are reminding the government to do those things. Poor people need them.”

Framing the Path Forward

In my interviews with members of WFRA, WDF, and Abahlali activists portrayed themselves as powerful defenders of their respective communities and as democratic voices of the poor. Both of these framing are prognostic and tactical. I discuss them in turn.

Powerful Community Guardians

Activists spoke about the feeling of empowerment their organizations gave them. Comparing the municipality to a “big monster,” a WFRA member proclaimed at a meeting: “We must never ever in our lifetime fear this monster because we are a bigger monster. Together, there’s nobody more powerful than we are.” An Abahlali member boasted, “They [the municipality] fear the power of Abahlali.” He told me about how many times Abahlali succeeded against “the mighty municipality” and how a movement of mere shack dwellers forced the mayor to postpone a conference in order to meet with them. A WDF member asserted that his organization stands up against oppression and for the masses. He added, “WDF will always be around as watchdogs, as voices of the people.”

Many members of WFRA proudly recalled forming human chains to stop evictions or chasing away service technicians (who were disconnecting water or electricity) with broomsticks. A WFRA member boldly concluded one meeting by announcing that as long as WFRA was around, no one in the community would be evicted. Afterwards, another member confided, “We are safer with the organization because someone is fighting for us. No one will harm us.”

Abahlali members remember marches of thousands of people. One activist enthused that the movement is not only known as the biggest movement in KwaZulu Natal but has achieved worldwide recognition. Another credited Abahlali with opening the people’s eyes and brashly declared: “The ANC always talks about discipline but we are tired of discipline. We are not disciplined anymore.” But, perhaps the best indication of the activists’ views of their organizations is their answer to this question: “Can you tell me about a time when your organization failed?” The unanimous reply was simply: “No.”

Democratic Voices of the Poor

Many activists frame themselves as democratic voices of the poor. This type of framing yields multiple benefits. It enables organizations and movements to mobilize new constituencies such as the unemployed, young women, and squatters. It also encourages mass involvement because by participating and speaking for themselves, members gain a sense of empowerment and dignity. These can be powerful incentives to act.

Ernesto Laclau and Chantal Mouffe argue that democratic discourse is essential to the creation of a “radical and plural democracy,” without which the Left cannot challenge neo-liberal forces. They assert that the language of democracy contains “profound subversive power” in its ability to spread “equality and liberty into increasingly wider domains” by framing “different forms of inequality as illegitimate and anti-natural, and thus make them equivalent as forms of oppression.”

While the “democratic voices of the poor” frame is undoubtedly employed most frequently by Abahlali’s members, it is used to some extent by WFRA and WDF. A joint resolution by Westcliff and Bayview residents against accepting ownership of the flats began with the celebrated if clichéd words, “We the people.” During WFRA meetings, members are encouraged to share their grievances. All resolutions are put to a vote and all committee members are elected. One member avowed, “This organization is the voice of the people.” She added, “We want government to hear our voices.”

WDF is also a democratic organization. It, like WFRA, elects its committee members. Activists stressed the importance of listening to the community. They were emphatic that WDF is “community and civic-driven” and that it does not take money from industry (a divisive issue in Wentworth which I will return to later). But, while WFRA and Abahlali hold weekly public meetings that are generally very well-attended, WDF holds only monthly meetings, making many of its decisions in sub-committees. Some might argue that this is a weakness but none of the members I interviewed perceived a problem in the running of the organization.

Abahlali members stressed the democratic nature of their movement. One activist asserted, “Abahlali is a pure social movement. It is driven by people, not politics.” A committee member added, “Whatever the executive committee comes up with, it asks the community about. The poor people are leading us.” Another affirmed, “If you are on the committee, you have to listen to what the people want.”

At Abahlali, members emphasized its role as a democratic organization that speaks for those who have no voice. Most said their biggest accomplishment as a movement was winning the right to speak for themselves. They talked about the pride they felt in marching, being featured in national media, forcing local government to meet with them, and successfully taking the city to court.

For Abahlali activists, being recognized and having their voices heard is paramount. One member told me, “Abahlali just wants the government to come and ask the people what they want.” Richard Pithouse explained, “Groups like Abahlali don’t want to be represented by elites. They want to have their own voice.” In a similar vein, an Abahlali member lamented, “The city managers talk but they don’t know how it feels to be poor. They’re sitting in their swivel chairs talking about poor people, about poverty, but they don’t even know what that means. Don’t talk about us, talk to us.”

Although the two frames discussed in this section serve slightly different purposes they are both prognostic frames that strategically position the organization as the hero: defending communities and fighting for the people’s rights. These are the types of frames that enable activists to build sustainable movements. I now turn to the equally vital matter of identity.

Creating a “We” and Defining a “Them”

Towards a Common Identity

This section addresses the ways in which activists see themselves. Constructing a common identity is crucial to building any social movement. Shared identity is defined around common experiences, symbols and myths. Identity creates a boundary between activists and the state. It enables activists to think of themselves as part of a collective “we,” facilitating solidarity and collective action.

WFRA, WDF, and Abahlali have constructed remarkably similar and inclusive identities. They are non-racialist, non-political, and non-religious, and they reveal a strong class consciousness, though not of the traditional leftist “working class” variety.

Most activists in WFRA and WDF identify quite simply as “poors.” Activists are not ashamed to identify as poor, and they stand adamantly in solidarity of other poors. A WDF activist speaking on the issue of flat ownership at a WFRA meeting rebuked residents who were considering signing title deeds, arguing that even if they could afford to sign, they should not, as it would be a betrayal of poorer community members. WFRA and WDF members made countless references to themselves as poors, making comments such as: “The government… has turned on us, the poor people,” “It’s our struggle – the poors’ struggle,” “We are the poorest of the poor,” and “We are poor people living in this community.”

Unlike WDF and WFRA members, Abahlali members identify primarily as shack dwellers, commenting: “Abahlali speaks on behalf of all shack dwellers,” “Abahlali fights for everyone living in shacks,” and “We are all sitting in the mud together.” While this is not as inclusive an identity as “the poors,” it is a logical identification, as Abahlali is, after all, a shack dwellers’ movement. Still, Abahlali members also expressed strong solidarity with other poor people’s struggles, whether or not they were shack dwellers. Though primarily a shack dwellers movement, Abahlali also works with flat dwellers. When asked why, members likened the flat dwellers struggles to their own, replying: “Flat dwellers are poor too,” and “They are crying like us. We have the same struggles.” These statements reveal an underlying identification as “poors,” though it may be secondary to activists’ identification as “shack dwellers.”

Members from all three organizations were adamant that their identities exclude race and politics. One activist asserted that all that matters is “poor people’s basic, practical problems – the politics of the poor.” Another affirmed, “We don’t talk about politics. We talk about people’s needs.” Activists were similarly insistent that people of all races are welcome to join their organization and their struggle. Though due to the legacies of apartheid WFRA is predominantly Indian, Abahlali predominantly black African, and WDF predominantly Coloured, there is limited diversity in every organization, and no member expressed any feelings of exclusion or castigation in our interviews.

Articulating Targets

Along with establishing a common perception of “we,” it is essential to movement-building that activists define “them.” A movement must be clear about who it is fighting. It is in response to this question that I found the most diversity and the least clarity both within and between organizations. The most common way that activists alluded to “the enemy” was as a nebulous “they” entity, making no effort to clarify who exactly “they” was. For instance, “They came to kick me out of my house,” or “They talk to poor people like we are children.” The implication is, of course, that “they” is the government and in fact, many activists used “government” and “they” interchangeably.
But, “government” is an imprecise target to struggle against. In order to construct achievable goals and appropriate actions with which to fight for those goals, a movement must choose a more specific target than “government.” Abahlali is by far the most successful of the three in this pursuit (which may well be a part of the explanation for why it has become a mass movement while the others remain small CBOs).

In WFRA and WDF, activists are often openly hostile to the ANC, both at the local and national level, expressing disillusionment and frustration with the liberation party. Most members that I spoke with voted for the ANC in past elections (both local and national, but more commonly national) but are adamant that they will not do so again. One WFRA committee member revealed that she had voted for the ANC in 1994, 1999, and 2004, but that she “definitely” will not vote for the ANC in the next national election. She explained, “Living here [in Westcliff] and seeing what my own government did to me changed my perspective.” Another WFRA activist who had fought with the ANC during the anti-apartheid struggle confessed that though she had voted for the ANC both locally and nationally in the past, she has decided not to vote anymore: “My vote doesn’t mean anything because I’m getting nothing from the person who’s getting my vote.” Only one WFRA or WDF member that I interviewed divulged that he will vote for the ANC again, explaining that though he felt he had been “bluffed,” there simply was no alternative to the ANC to vote for.

Different members of WFRA and WDF laid the blame at the foot of different bodies. Activists bestowed shares upon the municipality (“The municipality is the big monster” ), the local councilor (“The councilor promised us a lot of things but he did nothing” ), President Thabo Mbeki, and the ANC as a whole (“We are where we are today because of Mbeki and the ANC’s policies” ).

Abahlali members displayed considerably more hesitation to blame the ANC. They were on the whole, extremely loyal to the party that brought them democracy, freedom of speech, and the right to protest. Some Abahlali activists intend to continue to vote for the ANC in national elections. Some are even card-carrying ANC members, and they see no contradiction in supporting Abahlali and the ANC. One activist, brandishing her ANC card, declared: “I am ANC but I am also Umhlali.” Another clarified, “We want the ANC but we want our demands.”

Most of the Abahlali members drew a distinction between the ANC’s policies and those of their local municipality. They insisted that it was not the ANC that they had a problem with, but rather individuals within the ANC. One member put it this way: “We are satisfied with the ANC’s aims and objectives and with the Freedom Charter but we are against people who want to privatize the ANC.” Activists by and large believe that if their local councillor were doing a better job, life would be better, asserting: “The councillors don’t care about the people. They only care about votes,” and “We voted for the councillor for five years but he won’t have conversations with the poor people who put him in office so we decided we didn’t want the councillor anymore.” Mixing humor with anger, another Abahlali member averred, “We don’t care what race the councillor is. We don’t even care if he is a small child. We just want him to do what the community wants.”
Activists insisted they were not fighting against the ANC, despite the attempts by the ANC to paint Abahlali members as enemies. They remonstrated: “Abahlali was not formed to fight the municipality. It was formed to make government listen,” “We are not fighting with anyone.” and “We are not fighting with the government.” This non-confrontational framing is unique to Abahlali and possibly key to its ability to build a mass movement. It is an inclusive framing that casts a wide net. By painting themselves as loyal ANC members who just want local government to fulfill its promises, Abahlali opens its membership to people of all political orientations.
There are multiple advantages to such an inclusive framing. First, by encouraging many different types of people to join, Abahlali secures a critical mass; it gains the ability to put thousands of bodies into the streets. Equally important, this framing bestows a certain legitimacy upon Abahlali. The more representative its membership, the more credible is Abahlali’s claim to be the voice of shack dwelling communities. And indeed Abahlali has around 30 000 supporters while the smaller CBOs that are openly anti-ANC often have less than even one or two hundred supporters. It is also significant that at times they organize in areas that are not historically ANC and that some of their supporters previously have supported pro-apartheid parties enabling an easy transition to open opposition to the ANC.

Having discussed the way activists talk about action, I now explore their feelings on united action.

Towards United Action

There is a strong sense among activists of all three organizations that their actions would be more effective if they could only unite with other communities. This is not to say that they have not begun to reach out but merely that activists believe they could be stronger if their movement was bigger. A WDF activist put it bluntly, “The stronger we are, the harder we’ll fall. It’s about unity,” and “We want unity developed amongst all of us… That’s how the struggle will be built.” A WFRA member added, “The government will hear us if we speak with one voice.”

Activists from WFRA, WDF, and Abahlali seem to agree that “the only way forward is for us to unite and fight the man that is oppressing us.” They argued almost unanimously that unity is essential to the future of their organizations: “We need to take each of our struggles and make it one big struggle,” “One person can never stand alone and fight,” and “Abahlali is so strong now [because it has united 34 shack settlements].” When asked why they feel so strongly about working with more communities, activists revealed a deep sense of solidarity with other poor people’s struggles, replying, “Because I’m poor, I like to stand for another poor. I know I’m in the same shoes as the other poors” and “We need to fight together because we are all crying for the same things.”
Although I found broad agreement among activists of all three organizations that uniting communities is a worthy goal, my interviews revealed a general aversion to centralization and vast disagreement on the value of forums. I discuss the matter of centralization first and then turn to the debate over forums, with particular emphasis on Social Movements Indaba.

The Debate Over Centralization

There has been much debate among academics and some activists around the idea of uniting communities and movements under one centralized structure. Trevor Ngwane argues that if organizations remain autonomous and do not establish a centralized body, they will lack accountability.

Franco Barchiesi disagrees. He advocates a “politics of the multitude” in which “rather than converging in the form of unity, or of adherence to a coherent system of meaning and forms of consciousness, these singularities seek commonality as shared understandings of common elements and root causes of material conditions, and strike at commonly identified targets while retaining their autonomy.” Ran Greenstein argues that new movements’ autonomy and their departure from traditional left hierarchical structures are to be celebrated. He asserts that community-based “grassroots subjectivities… question the validity of unifying identities… as the form of expression of common desires” because the centralization tactics of the old left simply are not effective in the new struggles.

My interviews revealed a similar hostility to the idea of centralization among activists. One activist questioned the ethics of centralizing under one vanguardist organization, averring, “We must be cautious about saying that movements should be led from the front and not from the ground.” Another activist approached the debate from a different angle, alleging that large centralized organizations always run into problems over funding and spaces. He argued for creating a space to share knowledge and support one another, allowing each organization its own space to deal with its specific problems in the way it feels most comfortable. Some have proposed that forums like Social Movements Indaba (SMI) could serve such a purpose, but there has been much debate over the value of SMI, pitting WDF and WFRA leaders who support it against Abahlali activists who do not.

The Social Movements Indaba: a Vehicle for Unity?

The Social Movements Indaba was started in 2002 in Johannesburg to offer a critical perspective on the World Summit for Sustainable Development in Johannesburg. The SMI claim that they helped to organize a massive march of 20,000 activists from Alexandra township to Sandton although their role in this march is hotly contested by, for example, the Landless Peoples’ Movement. SMI Secretary Mondli Hlatshwayo describes the event as “a landmark in the history of social movement cooperation” and the beginning of “a new mass movement.” The following year, the SMI held its first annual meeting in Johannesburg. Since 2003, there have been two more SMI meetings, both in Johannesburg. Due to the recent growth of activism in KwaZulu Natal and concerns about how representative SMI is if it is always held in Johannesburg, the 2006 SMI is being held in Durban.

SMI organizers claim that SMI is a space for social movements to come together and strengthen “grassroots solidarity and common campaigns on the ground.” They hope to build “unity against neoliberalism… bringing out common demands,” and to simply “work together.” Organizers add, “The space was meant to evolve and include planning of common action and struggle” but stress that “each organization taking part in SMI” maintains its autonomy. Additionally, organizers hope to develop “a shared and inclusive platform that movements can carry to Nairobi” for the World Social Forum.

However, the purpose and value of SMI is a source of heated debate among the Durban activists whom I interviewed. While most ordinary activists in all three organizations know very little of SMI (if they have even heard of it), the leadership of all three organizations are well acquainted with it, and they expressed strong opinions about its value. At the outset of my research, all three organizations under investigation were participants in the SMI planning process. However, while WFRA and WDF leaders remain committed to SMI, Abahlali leaders opted to remove their organization from the SMI planning process five weeks before the meeting will be held and will not attend the event. Nonetheless, I will discuss the SMI because it highlights many of the problems and debates that have plagued Durban’s activists in their efforts to unite communities and build sustainable movements in post-apartheid South Africa.

There is a stark contrast between the picture that WDF and WFRA leaders paint of SMI and the picture Abahlali activists paint. One WDF member described the SMI as an opportunity to spread the word about poor people’s struggles and to “bring up the rights of people to the world.” Another member called the SMI a chance for “the people of South Africa to speak with one voice.” Another depicted it as a space for organizations to gain strength and discuss ways to work collectively and “raise their voices collectively.” Similarly, a WFRA member described the SMI as a way for movements from all over the country to come together, organize joint actions, and “define the struggle.” Activists believe such a forum is a valuable occasion for debate and for the development of a common understanding of the problems they all face. Summing up his feelings about the SMI with a simple declaration, one activist stated: “SMI will be for the benefit of mankind… If we are serious about our individual issues, we should be serious about SMI because SMI deals with all of the issues.”

Abahlali members portray SMI differently, betraying strong feelings of disillusionment with the SMI process. One activist declared, “There is no value in SMI. It will not get our people houses.” Another related: “I thought it would give the movement more power but it didn’t.” Another conveyed his feelings even more bluntly, saying simply, “SMI is hopeless.” But, not all Abahlali activists agree. One, while condemning the way SMI is being run, qualified his critique by noting that “if SMI starts with what movements need and is run by them, then it could definitely be a valuable space. It is always important for movements to share their experiences and reflect on strategies to challenge hegemony, but it must come from them.”

Critiquing SMI

Abahlali’s criticisms of SMI can be grouped into three categories: organizational structure, the role of academics, and maintenance of grassroots character. I discuss each in turn.

The structure of an organization is a crucial determinant of its ability to effectively mobilize people and build a sustainable movement. Abahlali members assert that the structure of the SMI is flawed in several fundamental ways. They claim that it is not transparent or democratic, that its agenda is decided behind closed doors and is not subject to criticism or alteration, and that it is unable to efficiently manage its funding. Activists bitterly recall being promised financial assistance and resources that never arrived.

Of the SMI secretariat, Abahlali activists had this to say: “Who is SMI? Who is setting the agenda? Who are the officeholders? There are no clear answers,” “They don’t listen to us,” and “The people who are in the secretariat were not elected. They were chosen because they have access to NGO funding.” SMI planners defend the funding process arguing that although accepting NGO money opens the movement up to accountability issues (What is the NGO’s agenda? How much say does the funder get how the money is used? etc.), many CBOs are under-resourced and rely on NGO funding. There exists, in one SMI organizer’s words, “an unhappy marriage between social movements and NGOs” that is necessary but problematic.

The role of academics in social movements has long been a matter of concern among activists worldwide. It is no less troublesome in Durban and within the SMI. Academics can play a crucial role in movements, “imbuing a generalised impulse to mobilise and take action with a ‘sense of strategic and political purpose.’” Intellectuals are able to link local struggles over basic needs like housing and water to broader ideological concepts like globalization and privatization. This linkage allows activists to find commonality between local struggles in different geographical areas over different issues, facilitating movement-building.

However, the role of the academic is precarious. Richard Pithouse contends that “the idea that intellectuals can and should lead movements is ingrained in leftist thinking.” It reveals itself in Marxist concepts like “false consciousness” which implicitly argue that poor people don’t know what they need and require intellectuals to tell them. But, grassroots movements cannot be led by elites (and like it or not, academics are elites). They must be led by the communities themselves. Therefore, academics must perform a balancing act of sorts, offering their assistance without taking over movements.

The Abahlali members I interviewed do not believe that the academics involved in the SMI planning process have done this well. They complain that the SMI intellectuals are not part of any of the movements and are not committed to their struggles. They add that the SMI academics have only shown interest in the movements’ work in order to further their own research and political projects. In short, Abahlali activists conclude of the academics: “their hearts are not right.”

Perhaps the biggest question to emerge from SMI is the extent to which it is actually a grassroots organisation. As I argued earlier, grassroots movements must be led by communities themselves. For Abahlali, this is paramount. Abahlali members do not believe that SMI is led by social movements. They allege that they arrived at the 2005 SMI to find the agenda already set, and when they attempted to challenge it, they were told that they were “out of order.” Similarly, Abahlali members contend that their ideas for agenda items at the 2006 SMI were disregarded entirely and that one again the agenda was set by professional NGO and academic activists with no accountability to movements or organizations.

An Abahlali-affiliated NGO member maintained: “Abahlali’s members can tell you who Abahlali is and what it is but they cannot tell you what SMI is. If those living in the shacks can’t tell you who SMI is, is it really about the poor? And if the poor don’t see themselves as part of that formation, what is SMI?” He concluded, “It must be social movements themselves running SMI. It cannot be otherwise if we want to say that social movements are key to solving our problems.” Abahlali activists charge that rather than being run by real movements, SMI is managed by middle class leftists who set the agenda without consulting communities. As a result, the SMI agenda does not reflect the people’s concerns but rather the concerns of NGOs playing to Northern funders’ agendas.

This section has related the debate over the forms that united action should take. I now turn to a discussion of the other difficulties that organizations face in their efforts to unite.

Obstacles to Unity

Each of the organizations has struggled to overcome logistical issues like lack of resources, and political divisions, but perhaps most fundamentally, they have struggled to select a common political project. This segment of the paper discusses these issues, beginning with logistics.

Lack of Resources

The most common difficulty that activists cited was lack of resources. This greatly inhibits their ability to build movements. A Resource Mobilization theorist might even argue it makes it impossible. Without resources, communities cannot take full advantage of openings in political opportunity structure, frame their demands in public ways, or reach out to other communities. In short, they cannot mobilize. However, it is important to remember that there are many different kinds of resources and just because a movement lacks sufficient material resources does not mean it is deficient in other types.

Abahlali uses the media to its advantage, publicizing its marches and spreading its message. WFRA utilizes its connections with famous and respected figures like Fatima Meer to give its struggle legitimacy. WDF boasts a hard-working and charismatic leadership that is able to effectively motivate and organize members. Thus, while WFRA, WDF, and Abahlali are no doubt hurt by their inability to mobilize vast material resources, successful action has been possible because they have utilized other types of resources.

But it has not been easy. Activists from all three organizations lamented the difficulties of organizing without much money. A WFRA leader related Chatsworth’s battle against evictions: “We were poor communities that were so under-resourced that resisting was a big, big struggle.” She added that because many CBOs lack funds, it is difficult to get whole communities together, let alone link up with other organizations. WFRA, WDF, and Abahlali, unlike middle-class community-based organizations and movements, are predominantly composed of poor people who often lack even basic organizing tools like cell phones or airtime for the phones. In Abahlali’s planning for an upcoming workshop, it has had to budget R1500 airtime to be divided among event organizers. Some Abahlali members expressed a desire to move out of KwaZulu Natal and organize nationally, but they lamented that such a task was extremely difficult without resources. Transportation and communications (email, fax, cell phones) costs make such an effort daunting if not impossible.

Abahlali activists spoke about the difficulty in fighting legal battles without sufficient resources. Although Abahlali considers court battles an essential part of its strategy, it must choose them wisely because it is so short on funding. Activists from all three organizations expressed frustration over the cost of organizing joint protests as most of the members cannot afford to pay for their own transportation. Additionally, all of the organizations struggle with finding appropriate places in which to meet and work. A WDF member complained that “it is hard to organize when you have no space to meet in.”

While all three organizations receive limited funding from NGOs or outside sources, they have struggled to gather sufficient monetary resources to mobilize on a larger scale.

Political Fissures

Another obstacle to unity that activists reported was politics, with one commenting: “Politics divides people. It creates conflicts.” WFRA members divulged that many community members, especially the pensioners, are loyal to the ANC and want to pay their rent. This causes tension between them and other more radical elements of the organization that want the organization to take an anti-ANC stance. Likewise, WDF activists note that the seemingly irreparable divide among Wentworth’s various organizations is due to tensions over certain organizations’ loyalty to the ANC. Activists are adamant that any form of unifying structure in Wentworth would have to be non-political.
In Abahlali, similar sentiments abound. Although “Abahlali is not a political party” and members insist that they are not “fighting the ANC,” it is difficult to convince people of this. Many shack dwellers are ANC members or live in ANC dominated settelements and they do not want to be affiliated with enemies of the ANC. In many instances it is simply not safe for people to be openly ANC. Abahlali activists say overcoming this problem has been their biggest challenge.

The WDF, while struggling with ANC conflicts, has also had to confront serious issues over funding. These disputes have left Wentworth bitterly divided. While many of Wentworth’s organizations accept money from corporations such as Engen and Sapref, WDF adamantly refuses funds from industry. WDF activists argue that community organizations should not take money from industries that contribute to the decay of the community (through pollution and unsafe labor practices) and that industry’s motives for offering the funding are questionable. The organizations that do accept Engen and Sapref’s funds cite the under-resourced nature of CBOs and claim they have no choice but to accept money whenever it is offered. They add that they are justified in taking the money because it will be used for the betterment of Wentworth.

The fissures created by political tensions run deep, and overcoming them will be an uphill battle. Yet, even more detrimental to movement-building than the logistical issues related above, is activists’ inability to construct a common vision.

Seeking a Common Vision

In order for activists to build sustainable movements, they must have a shared perception of their goal. They must agree on one political project. Otherwise, there is no unifying vision for the movement, no collective ideology. Movements cannot be cultivated unless there is a common “ideological current running through them.” If this is true, the organizations’ and movements’ inability to find unifying principles may best explain their failure to unite.

This dilemma is not unique to WDF, WFRA, and Abahlali. It has, in fact, plagued activists the world over. The debate generally centers on whether or not there is inherent value in local struggles. Some activists and academics contend that in community-based organizations and movements, fighting bread and butter issues is enough. Communities do not care about concepts like globalization and neoliberalism that do not directly and immediately affect them in ways they can see.

Ashwin Desai contends that even though new movements are not ideologically “pure” and may not know anything about the WTO or the World Bank, “they know their enemies. It is the mayor, local councillor (whatever his or her party) and their armed henchmen, most immediately. And in the distance, they probably can see Pretoria’s hand.” He adds that it is the movements’ “closeness to their foe that makes them strong.”

Abahlali members agree. In a critique of the SMI agenda’s emphasis on financial institutions and globalization, an Abahlali member declared, “At Abahlali, we are not fighting capitalism. We are not fighting Bush. The IMF is far away from us. Our struggles are on the ground. They are local struggles.”

However, many activists and academics believe such an attitude is short-sighted. Local problems are different everywhere, so fighting exclusively local battles makes building a large movement difficult. It also complicates activists’ efforts to construct sustainable movements because once officials concede the community’s immediate demands, the fight is over. But, the community is bound to face future problems because they have failed to address the source of their problems – privatization, commodification and the like.

David Harvey maintains that emphasizing the role of financial institutions like the IMF and the WTO in promoting and perpetuating “neo-liberal imperialism” is the only way to link local struggles. He writes: “Some way must be found, both theoretically and politically, to move beyond the amorphous concept of ‘the multitude’ without falling into the trap of ‘my community, locality, or social group right or wrong.’” Similarly, Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri argue that ‘the multitude’ must struggle “to contest and subvert Empire” (which essentially represents capitalism and globalization) by resisting processes of globalization.

The leaders of WDF and WFRA concur. A WFRA leader explained that although most of her members “don’t understand ideas like globalization and capitalism,” they do “understand the importance of unity,” and so it is up to the leadership to “institute educational programs” to help them see the big picture.

Looking to the Future

Despite the many obstacles activists face, confidence emanates from every organization and movement with activists defiantly stating: “The struggle will continue until there are no more shacks in South Africa,” “It [the struggle] will not stop until we get what we want. We want freedom,” and “We will win. We never lose hope.”

Though Wentworth remains divided and Chatsworth’s once-united front (the Concerned Citizens Forum) collapsed amidst racial acrimony, activists from both organizations remain hopeful. A WDF activist related, “If we could come together as organizations in the Wentworth community and work together and put our differences aside and say this is actually for the people… we would be so much better off.” Another predicted that WDF and social movements in general will grow, boldly proclaiming: “Revolution will grow here. The peasants will rise up.” Similar ideas thrive within WFRA. When during a WFRA meeting, a member declared: “We want to unite as a community… We need to rise now,” she was met with enthusiastic applause.

Abahlali activists believe their movement will grow and flourish, and they hope to one day become a national force. Their predictions for the future reveal a profound confidence and optimism: “After we win the housing battle, we will not be shack dwellers anymore and we will be able to take up new issues like evictions, water, and electricity. Maybe we will join up with Anti-Evictions Campaign… One day, Abahlali will be a poor people’s movement;” “Abahlali will grow into a big movement. It will grow bigger because it includes people from all different political parties… Everyone is tired of being deceived and more people will soon realize that they’re being played by the government. People will see the truth… Abahlali will be all over the country;” “If there are actions in lots of municipalities all over the country then maybe Abahlali can force at least the provincial governments to rethink how they function. Then there might be a possibility that the national government too will have to change.”

Conclusion

Will the WDF and WFRA find ways to overcome their lack of resources and crippling political arguments to successfully build movements, or are they doomed to remain small-scale CBOs until they expire? Will Abahlali succeed in building the “poor people’s movement” of which it dreams, or will it fall victim to the fate of so many other movements, collapsing the very moment it is at its most successful? If theory has any extrapolative value, there may be hope yet, as I have shown that all three of the organizations under investigation utilize openings in political opportunity, framing, and resource mobilization (though with difficulty) effectively. But, as I have also shown, they must find a way to cultivate concurrence on a common political project before they can move forward in a united front.

However, this paper does not claim to predict the future and perhaps this matter is subsidiary anyway. Both small CBOs and mass movements ebb and flow. That is the nature of the protest cycle. The movements best able to utilize and create political opportunities, develop meaningful and resonant frames, and mobilize their resources effectively will likely last the longest, but if a movement dies because it has ceased to do these things and has ceased to serve a purpose, there may well be no reason to mourn. Perhaps more important than how long an organization or movement lasts is what it does while it is around.

This paper has attempted to explore this topic by revealing the diversity of ways in which activists in Westcliff Flat Residents Association, Wentworth Development Forum, and Abahlali baseMjondolo frame their demands, themselves, and their enemies. It has furthermore explored their efforts to grow stronger and bigger by uniting, the multiple perspectives that exist within the movements as to the direction and form unity should take, and the many obstacles they face as the push forward into the future.

Bibliography of Interviews and Meetings

In chronological order…

1. Wentworth activists – October 22 – 29, 2006
2. SMI organizer – November, 2, 2006
3. SMI planning meeting – November 4, 2006
4. WFRA meeting – November 5, 2006
5. WDF member – November 6, 2006
6. WFRA member – November 7, 2006
7. SMI organizer – November 10, 2006
8. Patrick Bond – November 14, 2006
9. Ashwin Desai – November 14, 2006
10. WFRA meeting – November 15, 2006
11. WFRA member – November 15, 2006
12. WFRA member – November 15, 2006
13. WFRA member – November 15, 2006
14. WFRA member – November 15, 2006
15. WFRA member – November 16, 2006
16. WFRA member – November 16, 2006
17. WFRA member – November 16, 2006
18. WFRA member – November 16, 2006
19. WDF member – November 16, 2006
20. Richard Pithouse – November 18, 2006
21. Esset Workshop with Abahlali – November 20, 2006
22. Abahlali member – November 20, 2006
23. Abahlali member – November 20, 2006
24. Abahlali member – November 21, 2006
25. Abahlali member – November 21, 2006
26. Church Land Program member – November 22, 2006
27. Abahlali member – November 22, 2006
28. Abahlali member – November 22, 2006
29. WDF member – November 23, 2006
30. WDF member – November 23, 2006
31. Abahlali meeting – November 25, 2006
32. Abahlali member – December 7, 2006
33. SMI organizer – December 7, 2006

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Notes