Weekend Argus (Saturday Edition)
‘Yes, we are free, but we still live in poverty’
Casting vote for a democratic SA was one thing, but 24 years later there’s not much to celebrate
AT the age of 100 she has seen it all, done it all and lived through it all. Nokhawulezile Jadi was 76 when she voted for the first time.
Though the mother of 12 has a vague memory of the day, she remembers queueing for long hours in the heat to vote for her freedom.
“We were excited, we had never voted before. All we knew was we wanted to be free and be able to live in a society where we can do what we want, when we want,” she said.
Jadi said she and other elderly people had been transported to the voting station on that day.
“It was a long day, we stood in the lines until we were so hungry that we wanted to go home but we couldn’t because we were there with a purpose and we were not going to let go of our dream of being liberated,” explained the great-grandmother.
Jadi told Weekend Argus she had voted in all the five previous elections and was certain she would be be alive to vote next year.
“I am still fresh, I grew up eating healthy and I have never had a single drop of alcohol and never smoked. We grew up eating our own home grown fresh produce and that is why I know I will live to see yet another voting day.”.
However Jadi complained “the freedom that was fought so hard for only stretches so far, we are not really free”.
“Yes we are free to go to places black people were not allowed to go to back in the day but we still live in poverty. I live in a shack with my daughter and her family, I suffer from hypertension, diabetes and arthritis so sometimes it gets hard for me to get around,” she said.
Jadi’s home in the Siyanyanzela informal settlement is about 30m away from a canal which is also used as a dumpsite. Used nappies, dead dogs and rubble were everywhere as the water levels in the canal were low.
“The way we are living is not reflective of the freedom we had hoped for. I am happy with my family but a decent home with flushable toilets would mean ultimate freedom for me,” she said.
When Weekend Argus visited the three-bedroom shack at the Siyanyanzela informal settlement in Philippi, Jadi was outside cleaning her yard. She had been expecting the team. “You can’t let people into a dirty home, I wake up every morning at 4am to clean up the house because you never know when you will get visitors,” she laughed.
As a young girl, Jadi grew up on a farm in Cala in the Eastern Cape herding her family’s cattle. She never had the opportunity to go to school and cannot read or write. At 18 years old, she married and had her first child at 24.
“Getting an education was not an option for us, movement was restricted and we had to create our own happiness where we were.
“I developed an attitude of just minding my own business and so I never really went outside of my village and I think that saved me from a lot of pain during the apartheid days.”
When asked if she believed there was hope for a better future for her great- grandchildren, Jadi was not very optimistic.
“There is too much corruption. I did not notice much change then and I still don’t see much change now. The roles are just reversed but we, the real people, are still living under some form of oppression,” she said.
Meanwhile, 62- year- old John Olivier, a retired railway employee sat on his Ruyterwacht home veranda with a glass of brandy and four pieces of chicken on the braai stand.
His helper and friend Danie Victor packed away braai wood sold by Olivier while Roxy, the family dog, kept guard at the gate. Olivier was a train driver and told the Weekend Argus that life before 1994 had been “easy for white people”.
Though he believed the birth of democracy was for the greater good, he also hasdhis reservations. “I’m not a racist. Freedom Day was a good day, but apartheid made things bad for me too as a white person because after Freedom Day I could not get promoted because the black people had to be given a chance too,” he said.
Olivier reminisced about how his black colleagues would only be allowed to work short periods of time and be sent home for three months at a time.
“It was not fair, but that was how the system was, they had to come with their dompas and work for some time and go home for three months.
“Freedom Day now has caused it to be possible for corruption in the country and people like Malema who want to kill all the white people also make it bad for us.
“I remember seeing paintings reading ‘free Mandela’ but I did not even know who Mandela was until 10 years later when he was finally released.
“Then I felt if he was released earlier, then maybe the effects of the end of apartheid would not have been as bad but I am now happy about Freedom Day,” said Olivier.
Manenberg resident Renecia Odendaal, 30, is a mother of three and addicted to drugs. She does not have many views on Freedom Day because she says she feels she lives in captivity.
“We are not free here, we live in fear all the time and we have no jobs and no opportunities for us young people. Freedom is for white people and Freedom Day does not mean anything to me, ” she said.
Odendaal lives in a one room shack at the back of her parents’ home. She matriculated in 2007 and has been at home since.
asanda.sokanyile@inl.co.za