One stroke of the broom at a time
Jagersfontein residents determined to rebuild their lives
IMAGINE waking up on a Sunday morning; turning on the television, brewing a cup of coffee and possibly eating breakfast - as you do every week. As you get ready for church, however, you suddenly hear what sounds like an approaching truck, or maybe more like a fleet of trucks. But it’s not trucks and, in fact, what you are hearing is millions of litres of water and sludge flowing toward your house.
There is nothing you can do. You cannot gather any of your possessions, not even your bible propped up against the side of your bed, a photo album, or anything else you hold dear. Your only option is to flee in order to preserve your life.
It kind of sounds like the plot for a big-budget film, but this time it wasn’t a Hollywood fun-ride; it was the reality for hundreds of residents of Jagersfontein, a small mining town in the Free State.
Speaking to the DFA while handing out food parcels to some of the residents affected by Sunday’s disaster, Pastor Niels Swanepoel of the Woord en Waarheid church in Jagersfontein said that everything came to a halt when the walls of the Jagersfontein Developments Project mine dam collapsed at around 6.20am, causing a wall of water and sludge to surge down and completely destroy a significant portion of Charlesville.
Photographers aim to convey their tales through their lenses, but even as a photographer, I found it challenging to capture the full impact of what I saw. It is extremely difficult to describe what happened at Jagersfontein; you need to see it first-hand to appreciate the gravity of the situation.
For one thing, once the water and sludge finally stopped flowing, it had moved 15 kilometres away from the dam wall, carrying along everything in its path. Because of all the dry mud, taking pictures was difficult. Everything was a white-grey colour, and the only colour that stood out were the clothes people were wearing.
Walking around, you see mud-covered cars that will never be driven again ... everywhere. You might expect to hear a commotion given everything that was going on in the small town, but, instead, there was an unearthly quiet; there were no birds chirping, no dogs barking and no neighbours chatting.
The only thing one could hear in the vicinity was the sounds of brooms sweeping, pushing the mud, muck and sludge around. Residents were working non-stop to get the mud out of their homes. The mud was ankle-deep.
37-year-old Isaac Magethi was one of the residents trying to clean up. With a broom in hand, he was removing heavy sludge and water from his sister’s home. Isaac continued sweeping despite the fact that the television stand was lying on its side covered in muck, the leather couches were covered in mud, and the bathtub was still completely filled with mud. Saddened, I asked Isaac, “Waar begin mens, Isaac? (Where does one start?)”
“Mens moet net (One just has to start),” was his brief response.
I approached Daniel Letwane’s house after hearing the now familiar sound of a broom sweeping. Daniel was wearing his blue overalls and had a warm smile on his face. The sludge was everywhere, but he and his helpers had already made a significant dent. They had disposed of quite a lot of it.
Speaking with Daniel, I realised there was no stopping him because of his contagious optimism. He took the time to pose for a picture in his doorway, while wearing filthy clothes and holding a broom. I was confident Daniel would be OK when I left. A positive energy surrounded him.
While walking, I saw a Toyota Fortuner, also covered in mud, standing in front of a house near the home’s kitchen. While wearing my waders, I made my way through the muddy water. I nodded my head, greeting the person standing inside the kitchen. Leduma Mohale, who was born in Jagersfontein, greeted me. He boasted that he was the fourth generation of his family to live in the neighbourhood.
The stunning kitchen and cherry red cabinets caught my attention immediately. There were new appliances, couches, a lovely television stand and a silver and gold ceiling.
When Lingewe Buqa, Leduma’s mother, came into the room, I could see the pain in her eyes. There was a look of helplessness as she took in her surroundings. She told me they had had her entire house renovated about a year ago.
She mentioned that they have been staying there since the ’90s. “Look at my Fortuner, which I just bought,” she said. Her son, Leduma, said that a Mercedes-benz had been standing next to the Fortuner, but the mud “stole it” and they have yet to locate it.
He pointed to his dog's kennel. “That's all that’s left,” he said. “I don't know where my dog is.”
As my time in Jagersfontein came to an end, I saw a ‘silver lining’ among the area’s dreary, muddy and waterlogged surroundings.
The residents of the area were incredibly determined. The determination of the individuals there to start anew was evident in their expressions and their willingness to start working, regardless of whether they had lost everything or only needed to clean up.
Everyone was working and gently reconstructing their lives, one stroke of a broom at a time, rather than lying hopeless in a heap and waiting for brighter days.