United in flight and trapped by the terror
Foreigners seeking refuge in makeshift camps tell of escapes
ON Thursday night, Malawian Sam Justin, wearing a red Tshirt with the bold legend “NEVER GIVE UP”, huddled around a fire with his newfound friends and recounted the attack by eight knife-wielding men in Unit 11, Chatsworth.
“They told me they don’t want amakwerewere [foreigners] here. I ran away, but I fell. One tried to stab me,” he said. Those around him muttered under their breaths.
Justin, 27, raised his left arm to reveal an open wound below his elbow. “I don’t know how I escaped. It must have been God’s work,” he said.
Since the attack he has been living in the temporary camp in Chatsworth and getting treatment from a mobile clinic. Most of those around the fire did not know each other before the horrific xenophobic attacks that have engulfed parts of Durban for the past three weeks, leaving at least six dead and dozens injured.
They have been brought together by a common plight — fleeing marauding gangs that attacked them, and burnt properties and ransacked shops belonging to foreigners.
Nearby, on an open patch of grass close to tents, children played soccer. Their loud laughter pierced the night air — an incongruously happy sound, given what they and their families have endured: forced to abandon their homes for cramped tents on a sports field south of Durban.
For two weeks, thousands of foreigners — it could be as many as 2 500 in this camp alone — have been living in three such camps in Durban.
The children’s resilience was mirrored by the adults in the camp who, while fearful that violence would continue, knew they had to make the best of a bad situation.
As darkness fell, the number of the camp’s inhabitants grew with more displaced people returning from work or arriving to seek shelter. But with safety came discomfort.
Ablution and washing facilities are limited. Not everyone could find space in the tents. Privacy is restricted.
The Human Rights Commission this week said that, “under the circumstances”, the camps’ conditions met human rights standards — but only just.
Community organisations provided breakfast and supper. This night it was pap and veg- etable stew served on paper plates. The queue was long and it took more than an hour to hand out servings. There were no complaints, just gratitude.
Jeanette Dingane, driven from her home in Lusaka township, Chatsworth, said she left only with what she wore.
Others had the same experience. They do not have blankets. Fewer have the wafer-thin mattresses that have been donated. Clothing has also been donated — but not enough to meet demand. Like many others, Dingane has had to cook meals on open fires.
“We are scared that this [violence] will happen again,” the Mozambican said. “But at least there is security and police here. If things calm down, I will stay here in South Africa. If it doesn’t, I want to go home.”
But for many others, going home is not an option.
Kasai Ruvenga fled the wartorn Kivu region of the Democratic Republic of the Congo in 2001. He has since built a life here with his wife, Coco Bishogo. They have two children. They ran a hair salon.
They were among the first victims when violence erupted in Isipingo on March 31. Their salon was looted and they fled to the local police station, where they stayed for three days. They were then relocated to another camp, also in Isipingo, where about 350 people shared three large tents.
“We are all talking about how long we are going to be here for. It’s been too long already,” Ruvenga said.
“We are trapped here. We can’t go back [into the community] because it is unsafe and there is war at home.”
It was almost 9pm. The children, Ruvenga said, should have been in bed. It was a school night. But they were not going to school because it was unsafe. Instead, his daughters spent the days playing with friends.
“The children don’t know what’s going on. They are just running and playing.
“But as a mature adult, you know that it’s scary and that their future is not great,” Ruvenga said.
They told me they don’t want amakwerekwere here. I ran away. But I fell.