Bredell informal settlement resident Nina van der Merwe says she is blessed to be living there. Photo: Hein Kaiser
In-between urban smallholdings and large homes lies a few hidden secrets.
There are entire communities of less fortunate people living in organised, almost feudal-like communities just outside of street view.
Bredell in Kempton Park is home to a few hundred families, scattered between shelters and shantytowns, that live from hand to mouth and many times, get into a cold bed, hungry.
Yet many are okay with their plight, grateful just to have some kind of roof over their heads.
“I am really blessed to be here,” says sixty-something ‘tannie’ Nina van der Merwe, who has been a resident at ‘Lulu’s’ for about a decade.
Her husband passed away due to gangrene ages ago and she lives, with her granddaughter, in a shack with a small garden.
While many residents at Lulu’s used be seniors, she says, the forty or so families living in everything from old caravans through to makeshift corrugated iron homes are now much younger.
“People are just not finding work and move here for safety and because the cost of living here is very cheap.”
She has not seen her daughter for years and her granddaughter prefers living with Ouma than to go home. “We are very lucky; Lulu does a lot for us.”
Lulu’s is a smallholding where the landlord, Lulu de Beer and fiancée Werner Cloete rent out the shantytown dwellings that mushroom around the main house.
It is near-feudal in its approach with residents paying rent for their homes, relative to income, to cover off the basics like electricity and water.
“The property runs at a loss,” says Werner, who left his steel engineering business to focus on improving the lives of Lulu’s citizens.
Between power and water, rates and taxes et al the bill hovers around R 50 000 a month. Revenue comes from rent, the spaza shop run by Lulu’s mother and Werner’s back pocket.
“Many folks here just do not have the means to pay.”
Donations of food and clothing often arrived, especially during hard lockdown last year, and was shared amongst the residents. But it has become fewer and further between lately, says the DA’s Simon Lapping, who has regularly donated and checked on the community throughout lockdown.
There are five toilets shared between everyone.
“We are hoping to get cash together to be able to add some porta-loos soon,” says Werner who is busy building a creche and a small church for shantytown residents. In the spaza, the unmistakable hungry-making smell of frying onions dominates.
“We cook hot meals daily, too, and try and provide for those who cannot afford to eat.”
Most residents depend on Sassa grants, some have low-wage jobs, while around half have no source of income. A plot with a small shack costs around R 200 a month to rent, while a caravan can cost up to R 2000.
“We are desperate for donations of building materials now,” says Cloete. “I want to complete the creche and the church and build new homes for everyone and eventually build a full educational facility, too.”
Elim Hawens resident James Ferreira, a former airline technician. Photo: Hein Kaiser
About five kilometres down the drag, the happy-fun-place, Hee Haw Kids’ Party venue, disguises the plight of another forty or so individuals and families that live on the less-visited side of the property, the Elim Hawens area.
The Schoeman family businesses, the play park and dad Jan’s engineering business funds shelter for the less fortunate who receive meals and accommodation, boarding school style, on the property.
Men and women have sleeping halls, decently kitted out, and are provided with daily meals. A recreation area, a kid’s homework area and good ablution facilities are available.
“My father-in-law started the project in 1994,” says Jan, “and when he passed away, we decided to dedicate our lives to further his vision, to help others as best we can.”
Reading in the winter sun is Sharon, a resident at Elim, who lost her job as a service advisor during lockdown last year.
At first, her salary of R 4000 a month provided for her and her 20-year-old son well enough, living in a backyard room in Kempton Park.
“But as lockdown continued my salary dropped to R 800 a month, and I had to move to a shelter in the city,” says Sharon. She does not know the exact whereabouts of her son, who is “on the street” as he cannot find work with only a Grade 8 to his name.
She moved to Elim in February after the shelter turned into a male-only refuge.
“I keep sending out my CV, but nobody wants to employ a 57-year-old.”
Apart from her son, she has no immediate family, “but my cousin helps me out sometimes, driving me. But her family is also struggling and cannot afford to support me financially.”
“Jan and his family are very good to us,” says James, who has been living at Elim for 6 years.
A former aviation engineer, he took a package at SAA Technical in 2013, but ended up penniless and homeless. “I am the only living member of my family,” he says.
James spends his days, like many of the residents, collecting money with little yellow collection boxes, trying to raise funds for Elim.
Average daily takings are about R 50 in the middle of the month and, around payday, R 200 a day. Jan says that this helps a lot given that utilities and meals rack up a massive bill each month.
“We receive zero funding from outside, and Pick n Pay Glen Marais our only donor with foodstuffs three times a week.”
“The Hee Haw Party Venue and my engineering business also employs some of the residents piecemeal,” says Jan, “and they earn a bit of cash from that. But, with the economy on its knees, we are not always able to make work available.”
One of the residents who wanted to remain anonymous, weeds the garden in lieu of rent. He was an addict, sent to rehab by Elim and is two months sober.
“I don’t know what I would have done, or where I would have been otherwise.”
Jan has also made low-cost accommodation available for families who do earn some form of income, with low-rent rooms available.
While it is not five stars, it is shelter and as one of the tenants, a machine operator who lives in a room with his wife and two kids says, it is better than being on the streets.
Jan is presently building additional accommodation on the property, as finances allow. The need is just so great, he noted.
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