Down the rabbit hole of Cape Town’s underground city
STORMWATER drains under the streets of District Six may not seem the cosiest place to live, but they have become home to a group of hardy underground dwellers.
When night descends on the Mother City, they lift aside the steel coverings, climb down, and bed down on tattered mattresses they have lined up on either side of the drains.
But most live in underground tunnels which they have dug themselves, near the drains.
Water is no problem — they simply use what is in the nearby drains.
“I found so much peace in my heart here,” said underground dweller Siphiwe Sbula, gesturing to Table Mountain and Devil’s Peak behind him.
However, just as winter has begun to tighten its noose on Cape Town, city officials have cracked down, sealing access to the tunnels and filling in this illegal network.
Now the destitute underground dwellers are hopping mad — cold comfort to those who live in the surrounding homes and blame them for crime.
Tshepo Molaole, 26, said theirs was a close-knit community who had jobs and had never stolen from their above-ground “neighbours”. They had not chosen to live there; it had been a necessity, he said.
“Things are hard. Underground was nice. It’s warm and it protects you. There is also fresh water down there that we drink and use to bath.
“If you stay in Cape Town, when I wash in that water, that’s what you drink. There are pipes there that transfer water into these houses,” he said.
Molaole accused the officials of stealing his gas stove, bicycle and blankets after they sealed off the excavation.
But officials said only materials used to erect unlawful structures had been removed. Abandoned goods were bagged, tagged and could be collected from their holding facility.
Sbula, 24, said he had been living, with dozens of others, in the tunnels for three years. He came to District Six after fleeing Gugulethu and its gangs. “There were seven of us living together in the tunnels, some had girlfriends,” he said.
When his home was destroyed, he joined friends in the drain.
“We don’t mind the water because it is clean down there.”
Suzette Little, mayoral committee member for social development, said that 50 to 60 displaced people frequented the area, but only four people had accepted assistance from the reintegration unit.
“The city’s strategy is to reduce the number of people living on the street and to place them back with their families and communities of origin. This reintegration effort includes attempts to secure employment,” said Little.
District Six residents said more had to be done to deal with vagrants. Many are pensioners who had returned to the area through the government’s restitution process, and there is constant tension between them and the vagrants.
Weaam Williams berated the authorities for not ensuring that the area was safe. Her home had been burgled and her car stolen. She claimed things had become so bad that her young daughter was afraid to live there.
Williams’s family owned several properties and businesses in District Six. Her grandfather received a house, but died before he could move in. Two years ago, her family agreed she should live there with her husband and children.
“It looks idyllic here during the day, but at night all sorts of people creep out of the grass. We don’t know who they are and what their agenda is, but not all of them seem destitute,” said Williams.
“We need a decent place for us to raise our children. This is as dangerous as the Cape Flats. Restitution should not be at the expense of our children.”
Resident Tania Kleinhans-Cedras said the city’s integration plans would not solve their problem with the vagrants. “Safety and security is the responsibility of the state. Vagrants are still erecting temporary structures. We don’t have to tolerate it,” she said.
Underground was nice. It’s warm and it protects you. There is also fresh water down there that we drink and use to bath