A group of boys, barely in their teens, are chasing each other along the railway line in Kliptown, laughing all the way. Running after a mate at full speed, one boy trips over the tracks and falls on crushed stone. The others burst out laughing. In no time, he is back on his feet, chasing those making fun of him.
Adults walk by, minding their own business, seemingly unworried that the children are putting their lives at risk by playing on the railway tracks.
“This is not the suburbs, there are no playing fields here and the schools are closed. Children being children would use any open space to play,” says a resident who identifies himself only as Mthobisi.
We are chatting on a railway bridge that offers a sweeping view of the mishmash of old, dilapidated houses and shacks that makes up the residential part of Kliptown.
As Mthobisi speaks, I wonder if he knows that the Freedom Charter says that in a free South Africa, “slums shall be demolished and new suburbs built where all have transport, roads, lighting, playing fields, crèches and social centres”.
Does he know that the drafters of the document — today widely celebrated as having laid the foundation for the constitution — specifically promises playing fields and a world where “leisure and recreation shall be the right of all”?
Unlikely. After all, it was his wondering aloud about what was going on across from the bridge — on the commercial side of Kliptown — that sparked our conversation. Noticing the many ANC flags and individuals in governing party regalia, he had stopped and asked, pointing towards the Walter Sisulu Square of Dedication: “Benzani labaya namhlanje? — what are those ones up to today?”
It is June 26, the 70th anniversary of the adoption of the Freedom Charter.
When he heard what the occasion was about, Mthobisi shrugged his shoulders, which was a more favourable response than some other passers-by offered.
One local, walking up Union Road, blurted to his companions in the language cocktail that is typical of Soweto — “Ba corrupt baie laba — these ones are so corrupt” — before proceeding to wherever he was going.
The square was officially opened on this very day 20 years ago to mark the 50th birthday of a document that became the ANC’s basic policy document and influenced how post-apartheid South Africa would be shaped.
At the time, the Johannesburg Development Agency, Blue IQ and other backers of the project hoped that the square would bring tourists and economic activity to an area that has been neglected since 1903, when it was first established as one of the earliest African urban settlements in the gold-rich region.
But vegetable vendor Nthabiseng Mokoena said even though foreign visitors do come to Kliptown, this has hardly translated into economic upliftment.
“Kliptown may be famous for its role in politics, but that has meant nothing for the lives of people who live here. You can see for yourself, the poverty all round. We lack basic services such as proper housing, water and electricity and our children can’t find jobs,” she said.
It is a recurring theme for almost every resident one talks to, even at the marketplace part of the square where people sell anything from traditional medicine and vegetables to clothes and household furniture.
Outgoing Capitec CEO Gerrie Fourie would probably look at the people around the marketplace and declare them entrepreneurs who ought not to be counted among the country’s unemployed. But many of them say they barely make a living and are responsible for households with two or three other adults who are not working.
Besides its ties to the charter — which was a contentious document within the broader national liberation movement and led to the PAC breaking away from the ANC in 1959 — Kliptown was also the last home of struggle icon and Bantu Women’s League founder Charlotte Maxeke.
Mashatile’s visit seems to have further infuriated locals who say it was further evidence that politicians only come to the area for its historical symbolism, and never to deal with modern day problems
Besides her political activism, Maxeke is also well known, among other things, for having been the first black South African woman to receive a bachelor’s degree, in the early 1900s.
A decade ago, the provincial government promised to turn her former home into a museum. Very little came of it. On his visit to the area at the start of this month, Deputy President Paul Mashatile repeated the promise.
“There is a foundation that wants to turn it into a beautiful museum, but they are constrained by the people who are staying within the yard,” Mashatile said, adding that these people would soon be moved to subsidised housing.
Mashatile’s visit seems to have further infuriated locals who say it was further evidence that politicians only come to the area for its historical symbolism, and never to deal with modern day problems.
The Sowetan quoted resident Phumzile Ngwenya as saying when the deputy president visited Maxeke’s house, his officials “bought a mobile toilet just for him”.
“But we are still stuck with the bucket system. One toilet is shared by seven families. It’s like they see us as pigs,” Ngwenya told journalist Nandi Ntini.
She said that a week before Mashatile’s arrival, the gravel road leading to the house had been graded “to ensure the officials’ vehicles have a smooth ride”. A far cry from the egalitarian world envisaged in the charter where “all shall be equal” before the law.
Kliptown’s misery is repeated in underprivileged communities across the country, but the ANC was adamant this week that most of what is envisaged in the charter has been achieved over the past 30 years that it has been in power. Party chair Gwede Mantashe even boasted to the SABC that “eight of the 10 clauses have been implemented fully”.
“We have two clauses that are work in progress. One of them is the land question, the other one is wealth,” he told the national broadcaster.
Kliptown residents, however, say they don’t feel that they enjoy most of the rights promised by the charter.
The police, for example, “shall be open to all on an equal basis and shall be the helpers and protectors of the people”, the charter says. But according to one of the hawkers at the marketplace, the local police do not respond to calls for help at night because the area is too dark and without electricity.
Perhaps nothing demonstrates the depth of neglect this historic township has suffered over the years as much as the dilapidated state of the square itself does.
Even the name board is shedding its letters, so it reads “AL ISULU square of dedication”. A walk around the premises is heartbreaking — most of the facilities are vandalised, including what was supposed to be a dance studio honouring dancer-choreographer Nomsa Manaka.
During his visit, Mashatile attributed the state of disrepair to the 2021 July pillaging and protests sparked by the arrest of Jacob Zuma.
“Because ... the municipality was not run by the ANC, there was no commitment to secure the place,” the deputy president said. A DA-led coalition was in power at the time.
Now that the ANC was back in charge, promised mayor Dada Morero during his speech on Thursday, the area would soon be refurbished.
“That also includes the overall Kliptown development and not just the square. So that plan will then be unveiled… Hopefully by next year’s celebrations, it will look proper,” Morero said.
Few locals will be holding their breath.
How is that that those living at the birthplace of the charter are leading lives so far from the ideals enshrined in the document? As I leave, an old billboard advertising the Soweto Chef Academy catches my eye: “Become your own inspiration,” it says.
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