Siphokazi Nini was just 7 years old. Last Sunday, she was abducted from the garden of her guardian in Kwanokuthula by her step-father. She was raped and brutally murdered then dumped in a stream behind St. Monica's Anglican church where a service was in progress, a church where we have attended services often over the last few years. The man was hunted down by members of the community and was himself brutally murdered with knives and clubs. We had just left when this news was phoned through to us.
Tomorrow, all the schoolchildren of Kwanokuthula and the greater Plettenberg Bay area will join a march through the streets to honour Siphokazi and to cry out with their young voices for change. The people of the Masizame Project which was caring for this child are in deep shock. We also are in shock.
Early this morning as I sat with the silence and the lightest of rain, and my eyes looked out to the sea, the peace of the day and the violence of Siphokazi's death numbed my spirit. For a time I felt suspended between impossible emotions. I could do no other than be a witness to this terrifying picture of life's extremes. If I could have spoken, the words would have meant nothing, explained nothing, and achieved nothing. They would have seemed like vapour.
Tonight we will eat in a favourite restaurant in Paternoster. In the morning, we will walk on the empty beach. We will have lunch somewhere. Masizame will pick up the shattered pieces. It will open its doors each and every day. It will do the best it can. And so this life goes on.
Wednesday 30 November 2011
Friday 18 November 2011
a year on
It is just under a year since we were last here in Cape Town. Some things have changed. A vast flock of pelicans, who were to be found on the water adjacent to the 310 to Stellenbosch, are no longer to be seen there. From the air, these majestic flying machines, can see for miles. They probably spotted somewhere different, somewhere better.
In the city, there are fewer vulnerable and homeless kids on the streets. In the year of the World Cup, the authorities cleared them out. Like the pelicans we have no idea where they have gone. The police are more visible. Great, no doubt, for tourists and business visitors. But, wait. Jim and Sue Brosnan, who arrived here today commented on how empty the streets were and how little tourist footfall was evident on Long Street and Greenmarket Square.
Out in Dunoon not much has changed. Some of the blue, plastic toilet cubicles have been replaced by gleaming, silver, metal ones instead. But it is still a grim place. Mary Dell, who visited with us in the Dales a few weeks ago, still plods on against impossible odds. Two days ago, their office was burgled. They took computers, a copier, back-up hard drive, router and stationary.
They also took their entire store of school uniforms.
Meanwhile, the St. Kizito office in Gugulethu was burgled and ransacked two weeks ago. The thieves also took all their school uniforms. Marian, who spent 6 weeks with us earlier in the year, said she cried at work for the very first time.
The men's groups in the Cape Flat's communities are thriving. That little butterfly certainly had mighty wings and there is great optimism for the future. This also represents a very significant change. So often in the past, such hopeful movements have foundered after only a short while. The handful who launched the first group in Lansdown have grown in stature and strength. And they have shown real leadership.
The poor and the dispossessed, like the pelicans on the 310, also want somewhere different, somewhere better. Unlike the pelicans, they cannot fly high enough to see where the better places are and how they might get there. It is an altogether slower and more difficult journey for them. But as we have often said in this blog, nothing is impossible. Mary amd Marian and the men of Landsdown will keep going.
In the city, there are fewer vulnerable and homeless kids on the streets. In the year of the World Cup, the authorities cleared them out. Like the pelicans we have no idea where they have gone. The police are more visible. Great, no doubt, for tourists and business visitors. But, wait. Jim and Sue Brosnan, who arrived here today commented on how empty the streets were and how little tourist footfall was evident on Long Street and Greenmarket Square.
Out in Dunoon not much has changed. Some of the blue, plastic toilet cubicles have been replaced by gleaming, silver, metal ones instead. But it is still a grim place. Mary Dell, who visited with us in the Dales a few weeks ago, still plods on against impossible odds. Two days ago, their office was burgled. They took computers, a copier, back-up hard drive, router and stationary.
They also took their entire store of school uniforms.
Meanwhile, the St. Kizito office in Gugulethu was burgled and ransacked two weeks ago. The thieves also took all their school uniforms. Marian, who spent 6 weeks with us earlier in the year, said she cried at work for the very first time.
The men's groups in the Cape Flat's communities are thriving. That little butterfly certainly had mighty wings and there is great optimism for the future. This also represents a very significant change. So often in the past, such hopeful movements have foundered after only a short while. The handful who launched the first group in Lansdown have grown in stature and strength. And they have shown real leadership.
The poor and the dispossessed, like the pelicans on the 310, also want somewhere different, somewhere better. Unlike the pelicans, they cannot fly high enough to see where the better places are and how they might get there. It is an altogether slower and more difficult journey for them. But as we have often said in this blog, nothing is impossible. Mary amd Marian and the men of Landsdown will keep going.
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