Widows survive on cleaning jobs as Zuma dithers
Marikana tragedy endures for those left behind
THEIR husbands’ provident fund money is long spent. So is the R12 500 they got from the union. And the government food parcels had stopped by the end of 2012. The widows of the Marikana massacre, no longer the focus of the world’s media or the beneficiaries of largesse, have had to learn to fend for themselves.
In the most ironic of twists, 41 relatives of slain Marikana miners have become employees of Lonmin, the mining company where their husbands were employed three years ago when a strike in Rustenburg went horribly wrong, resulting in the death of 34 miners when police opened fire on them.
The action led to the Marikana commission under the leadership of retired judge Ian Farlam and it is his report that is now the source of much heartache and anger as President Jacob Zuma leisurely applies his mind to its content.
The two-year wait for answers has been one of unfulfilled expectations and wildly changed circumstances for Marikana widow Nokuthula Zibambele.
Like her late husband, Thobisile, she is now a migrant worker — leaving their home in Lusikisiki in the Eastern Cape for North West to earn a living.
“My children are like orphans. I’m here [in North West] all the time and they have to look after themselves,” said Zibambele.
She left her seven children behind in Lusikisiki at the be- ginning of this year to take up a job at Lonmin as a cleaner, earning less than R9 000 a month.
“When the children came from school, there was nothing to give them,” said Zibambele, one of 22 Marikana widows and relatives employed to clean Lonmin offices.
She knows that her late husband would not have approved of her working for Lonmin or leaving their family home.
“I had never spent a month without my children. Every day I think about their safety back at home. The little money I get here, I must send to the two at home, as well as share with the ones that are at private boarding schools.”
Zibambele and other widows rent their rooms for R350 a month in a Lonmin compound.
Another 19 relatives of the slain miners work as nurses, administrators and underground workers.
For a few months after the massacre, the government gave the families food parcels, but stopped, with no reason given, towards the end of 2012. The Association of Mineworkers and Construction Union gave each family R12 500 when the strike ended. Later they received R1 000 from the union to buy their children clothes.
With seven children to pro- vide for — aged 24, 17, 15, 13, 10, seven and five — Zibambele’s money soon ran out and the Lonmin job became a necessity.
She attended a few sessions of the Marikana inquiry.
“I don’t know why the president is taking long to release the report. With him dragging, I’m not sure now if the report will come as a true reflection of what really happened.”
It was only at the inquiry that another widow, Masebolai Liau, from Lesotho, learnt the details of her husband’s death — that he was shot by South African police.
“I want those behind his death arrested,” she said. “They have caused my family so much pain and suffering.”
Widow Nombulelo Nqongophele said life stood still after her husband, Bongani, died, leaving her with their year-old daughter. “These were the most painful three years of my life.” said Nqongophele.
“I couldn’t send my daughter to the doctors when she was sick. I have always had hope that the president — as the leader of the country and as a father — would be able to give us some kind of support. But to date no one from government has come to my family. I ask myself: ‘Why does the government enjoy seeing us suffer?’
“Not even one member of the ANC came to show support.
“I don’t trust what he will report back to us. He never cared from the beginning and likes to see us suffer.
“Zuma is living comfortably with his children and wives. We were forced to lock up our AFTERMATH: Injured workers and the bodies of miners lie on the ground after police opened fire on them at Marikana near Rustenburg in August 2012 LEFT TO COPE: Marikana widows, from left, Nomisile Lefulebe, Nombulelo Nqongophele and Nokuthula Zibambele are not happy with delays in releasing the report homes and come work because we were never compensated.”
Amcu treasurer Jimmy Guma said: “We share the same sentiment as many others that [the government] is trying to fiddle . . . to edit the report to protect some people.”
Lonmin CEO Ben Magara told the Sunday Times that his company wanted the report released so it can “move forward”.
“We have not been sitting on our hands, waiting for the report to come out. We have been trying to see what we can do differently and how to work more collaboratively with our employees and the communities,” said Magara.
One of the major problems in Marikana and the larger Rustenburg area is a shortage of housing.
In 2007, Lonmin agreed to build 5 500 new houses to meet its obligations under South Africa’s mining regulations. On- ly three show houses have been built in the Marikana area.
Lonmin said it had, however, converted 128 hostels into 776 family units and 1 908 single units.
Its latest housing project, “future housing”, started in August last year, but the first phase is only 31% complete after “various delays”.
Guma rejected Magara’s claim that last year’s strike made it hard for Lonmin to find money to assist the community. “I can’t help but think this is more about lack of will on Lonmin’s part,” he said.
Lonmin also made promises about setting up an “education trust” for the children of the Marikana massacre widows.
Guma said the union had yet to see evidence of plans to assist the families of those who died.
“As far as we are concerned Lonmin has done nothing for those families except employ some of the widows.”
Magara said he had travelled to the Eastern Cape, met with the widows and ensured that they were employed.
“On top of that, we are also celebrating the first graduate with a BSc degree in agriculture that was paid for from the Lonmin education trust,” he said.
Lonmin, the third-largest platinum mining company in the world, has lost three-quarters of its value on the JSE in the past five years as the platinum price plunged.
It made a R4-billion loss for the year to September, something it blamed partly on a strike early last year.
My children are like orphans. I’m here . . . and they look after themselves