things we write: Imizamo Yethu: Our Collective Effort

I was talking to my friend Rachel today, while we were standing in the middle of a muddy road in a township, observing the progress of the mangiest dog either of us had ever seen, and I asked her if she’d been on a field trip like this with a class from back home. Neither of us could really think of any. But here we were, our second week of class, in the midst of a shanty town, observing processes of social change in conjunction with environmental degradation. We’ve been discussing systems theory—how environmental and social systems aren’t separate but codependent, and here we were in the middle of a such a system in disarray. It was fascinating, refreshing, and very real.

The township of Imizamo Yethu began as a group of shacks on the beach of Hout Bay, on the Atlantic. The rich residents of Hout Bay, mostly from Constantia, a town of wine estates and oversized homes, got upset with them there. So in 1992 550 families were picked up and moved to the side of the mountain, well above the beach, in a forested area. They’ve since grown to 38000 families packed in on a little plot of land. They’re having issues with soil erosion and water quality, constructing around boulders and trees, but the township grows every year as more and more people leave their homes in the Cape. It was inspiring to see all the businesses: there are 63 informal bars, several hair salons and shoe repair guys…all sorts of people creating a community that will never be officially recognized by anyone. But the people were lively, the colors were bright, there was music, beer, children. It’s strange to be in a township—on the one hand it’s great to learn and see and talk to people, but on the other it feels like exploitation, glorifying the experience of the poor for our own entertainment. Personally, I think you have to come face to face with poverty to get a good grasp on what’s going on. I can guarantee you most of the residents of Constantia had never smelled the sewage water in these street or that poor mangy dog. Yet here we were. Most of the residents here are Xhosa speakers, so as we walked around little kids ran up to us for high fives and to scream ‘Muzungu!’ excitedly at our faces. Yes, we know, we are white people.