On July 1, 97 days into the lockdown, harrowing scenes emerged from eThembini informal settlement in Khayelitsha. Bulelani Qolani, a 28-year-old man, had been brutally humiliated. The City of Cape Town's anti-land-invasion unit had stormed his shack while he was bathing, probably using a plastic basin. Naked as he was, members of the unit dragged him out of his shack.
Humiliated, degraded and stripped of his dignity, he fought back. He fought for the restoration of his humanity, and to not be seen in his nakedness without consent.
He fought valiantly, with a degree of success, eventually making his way back into the shack.
Within seconds of this short-lived success the officials began to strip down his shack, once more exposing his nakedness. Qolani had nowhere left to hide. His place of refuge had been demolished. It had reached the point of soul paralysis.
Speaking to Newzroom Afrika journalist Athi Mtongana by phone, Bulelani said: "Basihlisile isidima sam - they have deprived me of my dignity."
He disclosed that two of his children ran away during the incident. No child wants to see their parent - the site of comfort and protection - dehumanised in that manner. The imagery left in the children's minds will resonate strongly with history books on the brutality of the apartheid state when, one day, they lay their hands and eyes on them.
The City of Cape Town had come under the spotlight in April, during the hard lockdown, when it terrorised residents in the same Empolweni informal settlement community of which eThembini is a part. Then, the city targeted 49 shacks for demolishing, prompting the Legal Resources Centre to take the matter to the Western Cape High Court. The court ruled that the evictions, effected over the Easter weekend, were unlawful. This meant the people could return to occupy the land.
Following the ruling, the mayoral committee member for human settlements, Malusi Booi, accepted the court outcome but was still defiant. He said the judge "has made an interim ruling on humanitarian grounds and without considering the merits of the application and has allowed the 49 occupiers to re-erect structures".
After that the city took an even harder line. Only the 49 could "legally" be on the land. Any other person would face the full might of the city's law enforcement. Logically, this does not follow. The parcel of land is the same irrespective of how many people occupy it. Of course, the city could argue that the burden would be amplified if it allowed more occupation.
The City of Cape Town ’s approach lacks context and sensitivity to the difficulties we face during this pandemic — especially the difficulties faced by poor people
The continued occupation, however, simply unveils the problem of landlessness in the city. Demolishing shacks does little to hide it.
Covid-19 has left many people jobless, meaning some must leave their rented homes and seek new places to erect structures for refuge. Many backyard dwellers have also been evicted by their landlords to comply with social-distancing protocols. They therefore seek vacant land to erect structures they can call home.
The City of Cape Town's approach lacks context and sensitivity to the difficulties we face during this pandemic - especially the difficulties faced by poor people.
Some have asked, who are the poor? They are people who are locked up on the margins of society without much security, often left to the dangers of precarious employment.
When seismic shocks hit society, the poor are hardest hit. Within a day or two they sink into destitution, with its food insecurity, lack of means to make a living and devastated household dynamics due to the new shocks that introduce renewed vulnerability.
Some of the people labelled land invaders by the City of Cape Town are these poor people. They have lost income and the means to make a living for themselves and their families because of the lockdown.
The lockdown is necessary to contain and manage the spread of Covid-19. But it means that, even more than usual, precariousness is the reality for poor people. The least any government institution can do is be alive to this reality.
Instead, the modus operandi of the City of Cape Town is one that abhors poor and destitute people and seeks to rid the city of their presence. It achieves this either by disrupting their adaptation traits to survive within the city or by neglecting their demands.
There have been many claims about how the city places spikes under bridges and divides benches at parks using steel arm rests. This is to make it difficult for homeless people to sleep at these spots. Simply put, it's an anti-poor people strategy.
In 2019 this crystalised in a municipal bylaw that sought to fine homeless people who sleep in public spaces. This was deemed a "swoop on homeless people". Where else are they expected to sleep, when there aren't adequate shelters for homeless people?
In SA you cannot wish destitution away. We are the most unequal society in the world. Therefore, we must grapple with all its consequences. This appears absent in the minds of those who lead the City of Cape Town.
They are preoccupied with beautifying the city so that it is palatable to the tastes of those who travel from afar to enjoy its scenery.
Hidden far away from the tourists are the lived experiences of people like Bulelani Qolani. People who are brutalised, maimed and dehumanised for the city to achieve its so-called quintessential beauty.
That beauty has no justice. It is a hollow beauty devoid of humanity. In essence, on
July 1 the City of Cape Town placed itself on a national mirror. We saw its brute force and disrespect for that one inalienable right - the right to human dignity.
• Mnguni is a political analyst
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