Race against time
Sunday January 22, 2006, The Observer
For a growing number of Afrikaners, the new South Africa is an alien world of squatters' camps and begging bowls. Photojournalist Simon Wood meets the people who lost most when Mandela won.
It is a Thursday afternoon at a busy intersection in Johannesburg's Bryanston district. The traffic robot turns green and the white Mercs and BMWs, four-wheel-drives and the occasional pick-up truck, with a black family's whole world piled on to the tailgate, pull away from the lights. Not far off are the gleaming towers of Sandton, a symbol of South African prosperity and an area where great wealth can be glimpsed, albeit behind electric fences and razor wire. The majority of up-market cars are still driven by middle- and upper-income whites, but many belong to the growing class of wealthy blacks. In a country where carjacking and other violent crimes are an everyday fact of life, all have their windows closed and doors firmly locked. Alongside the cars weave the inevitable gaggle of roadside Africans selling a variety of useful and useless items, many of them dressed in no more than rags. This is the new South Africa that many now expect to find.
Then something happens to shatter the illusion. A white man carrying a cardboard notice takes up position at the side of the road. His placard reads: 'Hell is no joke. I never knew this will happen to me. Please help. Family to support. Thanking you'. From the grammar it is clear he is an Afrikaner and one of the new emerging class of so-called 'poor whites'. Ten years ago it would have been unimaginable to see a white man begging by the roadside; nowadays it is commonplace. These working-class Afrikaners are the very people whom apartheid was designed to protect and those who had most to lose from its demise. For many of them, 'the nightmare' of black rule is their new reality.
'Och man, there's no future for us whites in South Africa. It's finished for us here. This is the black man's country now, but we can't leave. We've got nowhere to go.' This sentiment was often repeated during my journey into the 'poor white' world of post-apartheid South Africa.
It is difficult to get a precise picture of the current scale of this problem from the range of statistics available. The latest United Nations development programme report shows that out of a total population of 45m in 2002, nearly half were living below the national poverty line; of those, 91.1 per cent were Africans (black South Africans, as opposed to Afrikaners, who are also classified as 'Europeans'). Unquestionably, black poverty represents the greatest challenge to the government, but white impoverishment is steadily increasing, leading to myriad social problems. The same report states that in 1995, a year after Nelson Mandela came to power, 1.5 per cent of whites lived below the poverty line, whereas in 2002 that figure had risen to 6.9 per cent. Other research claims that joblessness among whites has risen by perhaps as much as 15 per cent per year over the past few years; some reports indicate that 10 per cent of Afrikaner households now have an average income which puts them into the poorest groups. What is clear, however, is that over 350,000 people may be classified as poor, with some research claiming that up to 150,000 are destitute and struggling for survival. The latter inhabit a twilight world of squatter camps, shelters, trailer parks and low-cost accommodation.
Some of these people claim their plight is the result of anti-white racism, a kind of reverse apartheid arising from government pro-black empowerment policies. Certainly the new phenomenon of white poverty is often blamed on the government's Affirmative Action employment legislation, which reserves 80 per cent of new jobs for blacks. This is accomplished through positive discrimination and labour laws which impose rigorous quotas on employers. Proponents insist these initiatives are tailored to national demographics and are more likely to reflect a long-overdue levelling of the playing field in an attempt to redress years of apartheid. But the reality is much more complicated.
Throughout most of its lifetime, the apartheid government protected working-class whites. Jobs were reserved for them in the state railway, the mines and heavy industry. Their church had been telling them for generations that they were God's chosen people and superior to blacks. It is hardly surprising, then, that social workers at the South African Women's Federation (SAVF), one of the organisations trying to help poor, displaced whites, believe that the big problem is their mindset, not Affirmative Action or government policies.
'Many of these people cannot accept the fact that now we are all equal and that means "white people must go as low as black people",' one member of staff tells me. 'Those who are willing to swallow their pride and work with blacks find it very humbling, humiliating. But there are too many who would choose to not work at all and watch their families suffer, rather than "stoop" to that.' Changing these people's mindsets, she says, is an almost impossible task: 'All they see is that everything is different now and they don't like it.'
As apartheid crumbled, Africans gradually moved into what were traditionally 'European' neighbourhoods. With this migration has come a massive increase in the levels of crime, particularly in less affluent districts and those areas, often on the edge of towns and cities, where black squatter camps have mushroomed. The increase in crime and a desire to live among one's own has in many cases resulted in 'white flight' to new, predominantly white areas. In an urban environment this usually means living behind high walls and metal gates. More up-market homes are protected by razor wire, electrified fences, security guards, dogs and surveillance cameras.
Today, roughly 400,000 whites are too poor to live in 'white' areas. Many live in fear of their lives and property. Many will complain of feeling 'swamped' by the newly empowered black population and threatened, and see no way out of their predicament. A lot of middle-aged and older people, particularly, tend to be vehemently racist, clinging to their religion as a means of sustaining what remains of their pride.
Driving to visit a cluster of four white homes in Eikenhoff, a semi-rural area on the outskirts of Johannesburg, I was asked to wind up my window and re-check that my door was locked. As we neared our destination I was told that we would not be stopping even for red lights: 'It's too dangerous here,' said my guide. 'There's a large black squatter camp next to the road. They could throw a brick through the window or put a gun to your head. Sometimes they just take you out and shoot you before stealing your car.'
On this occasion, I was accompanying a representative of the Manacare Foundation, a small British charity which provides help for the destitute, among others, mainly in the form of food and donated clothing.
Entering the first home - the owner's vicious dogs having been locked up inside an abandoned car - I was led through the dark interior of a small dilapidated house, glimpsing broken and worn-out furniture, a paraffin cooking stove, cracked stone sink and various makeshift arrangements. The back yard was mainly dirt with rusty sheets of corrugated iron and other debris lying around. There were a few rabbits; some tired looking mealie (maize) plants and a couple of chickens scratching in the dust. This was the home of four generations of the Van der Merwer family, with seven children under the age of 18 still living here.
I asked the grandfather, Bertus, about the dogs. 'Ja, it's because the vicinity is getting more black. They harass and molest you all the time. We don't feel safe here any more. That's why we've got so many dogs. You have to watch out even going to that shop just up the road. The owner, a white man, was shot when they tried to rob him. He saw the gun and went to run away, but his helper, a black man, pulled the gun down so the owner only got shot in the leg, but the helper got shot in the heart. It's worse at night; you can't leave the house after dark. They're going to try to break in or attack you. After six o'clock we don't know if we are going to be safe or not. And with the squatter camp just up the road, it's got so bad. That squatter camp is even a no-go area for the police.'
Bertus used to have a good job, but he finished work in 2001. 'There was no pension scheme and I'm still struggling to get a pension from the government. They say I can't get one because my divorce papers are missing. The rats have eaten them. The rats are terrible here.'
I wondered how the family viewed the future, particularly for the younger children, and whether growing up in the new South Africa would make it easier for them. 'Och, well they're more used to it, but it's getting worse. Yes it's already gone too far. There's only a few whites still here. It's about 4m of us whites to about 40m blacks. We can do nothing. Some of the blacks try to communicate with our whites. They want to come up. They want to go out with white girls. Some of them want to marry our people. It happens. You can even get married to a black person now, but the blacks will never be like us. Never until the end of time. Some places will always be black, never be white, but we can't go overseas.'
Even the hospitals aren't safe. 'My baby was born in Baragwanath Hospital in Soweto,' says Bertus's niece, Karin. 'It's now the hospital for our area. It's clean but I don't feel safe going to Soweto. My father was robbed as he left the hospital. They took his bag, his ID book, cigarettes and even his glasses. The blacks have stolen everything. These days you have to take anything you need to the hospital: your own bedding, knives and forks, and even a bottle to feed your baby.'
A century ago, through economic necessity, countless Afrikaners were driven off their farms and into the cities. They did not have the skills needed to survive in the new environment. Many became destitute and were forced by circumstance to live in the poorest areas, cheek by jowl with Africans. This was a deeply humiliating experience for people whose identity was based on an ideology of superiority over black Africans. The impoverished whites of today now find themselves in that same position.
The greatest concentration of destitute whites is to be found to the south of Johannesburg in the Vaal Triangle, South Africa's version of the Ruhr - a district of heavy industry. Here, many people have just given up. Like lost souls they lead hopeless lives in the many shelters or missions which have sprung up to cater for the increasing number of homeless whites. Alcoholism and drug abuse, domestic violence, sexual abuse within families, family breakdown and an inability to resolve conflicts are all major problems.
At the shelter for the homeless, run by the Women's Federation, Afrikaner social workers believe the growing 'poor white' problem is largely the result of ignorance, of racist attitudes entrenched in the past and an inability to come to terms with the new reality of their diminished position. These people are confused and, like aliens, no longer recognise their own country. 'These people are not worldly,' says one social worker. 'They have always lived very isolated and sheltered lives. They can't even be bothered to watch the TV we've provided for them. There is no interest in other views and opinions and that makes it very difficult to help them.'
An attitude prevalent in Afrikaner society is that women do not work. With their menfolk unemployed, according to press reports, an increasing number of women are turning to the sex trade to maintain their lifestyle, while at SAVF, carers believe that 'too many women produce yet more children as a way to gain benefits. We had one woman of 25 with a husband over 50; she had her sixth child here and the oldest was five. It's breeding for money.'
There is also a longstanding culture of heavy drinking. 'There's a lady with six children who's been living here for a year or two,' says a member of staff. 'Both she and her children have been abused by various men. And now she's back with one of the most abusive of her ex-partners who completely traumatised her kids. Three months ago she moved in with some other guy, but that only lasted for three days. This is typical. The real problem is that they pass it on to the next generation, and that is why it never ends.'
It's the same, I am told, with child sex abuse, which the shelter believes is a widespread problem. 'I talked to the mother of a seven-year-old I suspected of being abused,' says another worker. 'She said she didn't think her husband was abusing her daughter, but even if he was, she was abused and she's turned out fine. Her mother knew that her dad was abusing her. So she thinks it's normal; it happens because it's the father's privilege I suppose, that he can do what he wants with his daughter. These women don't put themselves first to protect the child. It's like their maternal instincts are not working.'
Even gainful employment seems illusory. During apartheid a white boy could leave school at 15 and start work in an industry without any qualifications. By 17 he could have, for example, his welder's ticket and be earning a good salary. But now, with unemployment at 40 per cent, he'll be one of 500 youngsters going for that job. At the Women's Federation shelter they tell their unemployed residents that there is work out there, but that they can't choose these days. They have to take what they can get and they have to be willing to work alongside blacks. When an opportunity comes up, I'm told, 'A white person will want to talk salary and they want everything organised for them. A black person will just think, "I've got a family to feed" and go for it. Many of these people are not willing to do menial jobs, it's "not their work". When we succeed in finding employment for them, such as car guards, they either arrive drunk, sleep on the job, or don't turn up at all. We have exhausted all goodwill at the agencies.'
Poor white parents can't even motivate their kids to go to school and do well. It seems that they don't have dreams and aspirations, even for their children. 'I put my energy into the kids,' the social worker explains, 'because that's the most realistic investment to make. But some of these youngsters have never even been outside the Vaal Triangle.'
As well as the Women's Federation, the Solidarity trade union's Helping Hand Foundation, church groups and other small charities are making a genuine attempt to help these people. But it is widely recognised that some missions are run by less altruistic operators, homeowners suspected of making money at the expense of the most vulnerable, those who become trapped and institutionalised and whose children grow up knowing no other life.
Black squatter camps in South Africa continue to mushroom all over the country. They can be found alongside highways and on back roads, on unwilling farmers' fields and any vacant and convenient piece of land. Clinging ← to steep hillsides or wind-blown on dusty plains, these shantytowns have evolved in a random way. Their flimsy structures are nailed together and roofed with corrugated iron. They are forlorn, desolate and often dangerous places. White squatter camps, on the other hand, are a fact of life that many South Africans are only just beginning to comprehend.
We set off to find one, with a cargo of pasta, mealie-meal, rice and a box of fresh vegetables as a passport. Turning off the road, we parked alongside a pleasant suburban-style bungalow, the front stoop pretty with flowers and shaded by an awning. This seemed an unlikely setting for a squatter camp, but we entered, to find Sally, the owner, slumped on the sofa, her enormous bulk preventing much movement. After the initial introductions and some ingratiating explanations of how her family are trying, so hard, to help these 'poor people', I left my colleague and slipped out the back, followed quickly by Sally's right-hand woman. 'We're like a big family here,' she told me. 'One time we were 62 people with 17 kids, but it goes up and down.'
The back yard contained a number of shacks, clad with a random assortment of zinc sheets and packing-case plywood. Most doors were open, an attempt no doubt to create some ventilation in the fearsome heat of the metal hovels. The place was littered with scrap, from oil drums, abandoned furniture and car parts to metal sheets, breezeblocks and corrugated iron. At the perimeter, flimsy long-drop toilets provided for the needs of the inmates.
Grandpa Willem is handicapped and has been here for three months. In his filthy room, he sat on the bed slowly turning the pages of donated magazines. A cup of tea arrived during my interview with him and sat untouched on the commode which doubles as his bedside table. I was told he receives a disability allowance of 740R (£69) per month, of which Sally takes half - 'to help with the overheads'.
Paula, who is English-speaking, is also confined to a wheelchair. She passes the time by playing with her kitten as she sits in the doorway to her bunkroom and awaits the return of her husband from work. He is a car guard in the parking lot of Checkers supermarket. Relying on tips, she says he earns between 20 and 30 rand a day, half of which goes to Sally for water, lighting and food. 'That leaves us about six rand each [55p]. We get porridge in the morning, then maybe rice and veggies in the afternoon, and soup and bread at night. I don't get any disability allowance, although I've been in a wheelchair for a year. We've been here for three months. Before that we were at my sister's, but there were no lights or water and her husband drinks so much.'
The people I met at the camp seemed listless, depressed and without purpose, as they shuffled around aimlessly. There was an atmosphere of despair and hopeless resignation. Like sleepwalkers, they showed little emotion and reacted slowly and with great effort to my simple questions. I wondered if this was the result of a poor diet, or because they had lost everything.
Sally relies on donated food and clothing to sustain the camp; her overheads are minimal. Although her 'mission' is a registered charity, there have been some concerns about her operation; Manacare now makes up individual food parcels and gives them directly to Sally's tenants. Whatever the truth, there can be no doubt that Sally provides basic meals and a roof over the heads of people who otherwise could be sleeping out on the veld.
Despite the negative image of many of these people, there are impoverished whites who, regardless of the dramatic decline in their fortunes since political transformation, retain a sense of dignity and a positive outlook. Some now see that apartheid was not a good thing and think the future will be brighter now that black Africans are receiving a better education.
Yann and Mara are one such couple, living on the outskirts of Johannesburg. Yann is 53 and picks up odd jobs when and where he can. Mara speaks only Afrikaans and with no English most work is out of her reach. Their four children go to the local government school and are proud of their grades. They appear well integrated into the new South Africa, with friends of all races. They appear happy despite their harsh circumstances. There is no electricity at the house and Yann dreams of having a solar panel. At present he heats water in tin drums over a fire in the garden and carts it into the house. Mara hand-washes the clothes for a family of six and cooks on two paraffin stoves. It will be a long time before Yann has solar power.
Despite all the stereotypes of lower-class Afrikaner racism, there are of course many exceptions. Jannie, who I found begging by the roadside, is married to a 'coloured' (mixed race) woman. Things were fine until his leg was broken in a traffic accident. Since then he has not been able to find work. Gradually, the couple have lost everything. They had to sell their furniture and other possessions and, unable to meet the rent, were forced to leave their house. Now they stay in a dirty room in Johannesburg's inner city district of Hilbrow, notorious for its high crime rate. There is no water and they rely on a primus stove for cooking. Unable to care for their seven-year-old son, he now lives with his grandmother. Life is a daily struggle for survival. Each morning Jannie dons his one good shirt, washed and ironed, and sets off with his wife and their 'Hell is no joke' placard to take up position by the traffic lights. It will be many hours before they have enough money to eat. Then there is the rent to think about.
Many dispossessed whites live a transient lifestyle, their downward-spiralling circumstances forcing them to move from place to place. Many have lost touch with their families and people who might otherwise be able to help them. At the Women's Federation shelter I meet Jenny, who took refuge here after an unhappy relationship. She has family in England and wants to be photographed holding a picture of herself in better times, perhaps in the hope that someone might recognise her and get in touch.
When the first government of the new 'Rainbow nation' came to power in 1994, under Nelson Mandela and FW de Klerk, it inherited a legacy of black oppression after more than four decades of white minority rule. In an attempt to redress the inequalities of that regime, new radical policies were instigated to redistribute wealth and hope. Despite this, the majority of whites continue to live in the top income bracket. There is, however, little doubt that the gap between rich and poor is widening among all races. Those whites at the bottom end of the scale have seen the greatest decline in economic standards. Many of these people feel angry and bitter, because their living standards have plummeted in the new South Africa. It is these working-class whites previously protected by apartheid and still clinging to past ideologies who are the least equipped to adapt to current conditions. They are the new victims of apartheid. Hope for this new society lies with their children, many of whom are learning to integrate. When assimilation is complete, for the whites of South Africa, the story of apartheid will finally be over.
For a growing number of Afrikaners, the new South Africa is an alien world of squatters' camps and begging bowls. Photojournalist Simon Wood meets the people who lost most when Mandela won.
It is a Thursday afternoon at a busy intersection in Johannesburg's Bryanston district. The traffic robot turns green and the white Mercs and BMWs, four-wheel-drives and the occasional pick-up truck, with a black family's whole world piled on to the tailgate, pull away from the lights. Not far off are the gleaming towers of Sandton, a symbol of South African prosperity and an area where great wealth can be glimpsed, albeit behind electric fences and razor wire. The majority of up-market cars are still driven by middle- and upper-income whites, but many belong to the growing class of wealthy blacks. In a country where carjacking and other violent crimes are an everyday fact of life, all have their windows closed and doors firmly locked. Alongside the cars weave the inevitable gaggle of roadside Africans selling a variety of useful and useless items, many of them dressed in no more than rags. This is the new South Africa that many now expect to find.
Then something happens to shatter the illusion. A white man carrying a cardboard notice takes up position at the side of the road. His placard reads: 'Hell is no joke. I never knew this will happen to me. Please help. Family to support. Thanking you'. From the grammar it is clear he is an Afrikaner and one of the new emerging class of so-called 'poor whites'. Ten years ago it would have been unimaginable to see a white man begging by the roadside; nowadays it is commonplace. These working-class Afrikaners are the very people whom apartheid was designed to protect and those who had most to lose from its demise. For many of them, 'the nightmare' of black rule is their new reality.
'Och man, there's no future for us whites in South Africa. It's finished for us here. This is the black man's country now, but we can't leave. We've got nowhere to go.' This sentiment was often repeated during my journey into the 'poor white' world of post-apartheid South Africa.
It is difficult to get a precise picture of the current scale of this problem from the range of statistics available. The latest United Nations development programme report shows that out of a total population of 45m in 2002, nearly half were living below the national poverty line; of those, 91.1 per cent were Africans (black South Africans, as opposed to Afrikaners, who are also classified as 'Europeans'). Unquestionably, black poverty represents the greatest challenge to the government, but white impoverishment is steadily increasing, leading to myriad social problems. The same report states that in 1995, a year after Nelson Mandela came to power, 1.5 per cent of whites lived below the poverty line, whereas in 2002 that figure had risen to 6.9 per cent. Other research claims that joblessness among whites has risen by perhaps as much as 15 per cent per year over the past few years; some reports indicate that 10 per cent of Afrikaner households now have an average income which puts them into the poorest groups. What is clear, however, is that over 350,000 people may be classified as poor, with some research claiming that up to 150,000 are destitute and struggling for survival. The latter inhabit a twilight world of squatter camps, shelters, trailer parks and low-cost accommodation.
Some of these people claim their plight is the result of anti-white racism, a kind of reverse apartheid arising from government pro-black empowerment policies. Certainly the new phenomenon of white poverty is often blamed on the government's Affirmative Action employment legislation, which reserves 80 per cent of new jobs for blacks. This is accomplished through positive discrimination and labour laws which impose rigorous quotas on employers. Proponents insist these initiatives are tailored to national demographics and are more likely to reflect a long-overdue levelling of the playing field in an attempt to redress years of apartheid. But the reality is much more complicated.
Throughout most of its lifetime, the apartheid government protected working-class whites. Jobs were reserved for them in the state railway, the mines and heavy industry. Their church had been telling them for generations that they were God's chosen people and superior to blacks. It is hardly surprising, then, that social workers at the South African Women's Federation (SAVF), one of the organisations trying to help poor, displaced whites, believe that the big problem is their mindset, not Affirmative Action or government policies.
'Many of these people cannot accept the fact that now we are all equal and that means "white people must go as low as black people",' one member of staff tells me. 'Those who are willing to swallow their pride and work with blacks find it very humbling, humiliating. But there are too many who would choose to not work at all and watch their families suffer, rather than "stoop" to that.' Changing these people's mindsets, she says, is an almost impossible task: 'All they see is that everything is different now and they don't like it.'
As apartheid crumbled, Africans gradually moved into what were traditionally 'European' neighbourhoods. With this migration has come a massive increase in the levels of crime, particularly in less affluent districts and those areas, often on the edge of towns and cities, where black squatter camps have mushroomed. The increase in crime and a desire to live among one's own has in many cases resulted in 'white flight' to new, predominantly white areas. In an urban environment this usually means living behind high walls and metal gates. More up-market homes are protected by razor wire, electrified fences, security guards, dogs and surveillance cameras.
Today, roughly 400,000 whites are too poor to live in 'white' areas. Many live in fear of their lives and property. Many will complain of feeling 'swamped' by the newly empowered black population and threatened, and see no way out of their predicament. A lot of middle-aged and older people, particularly, tend to be vehemently racist, clinging to their religion as a means of sustaining what remains of their pride.
Driving to visit a cluster of four white homes in Eikenhoff, a semi-rural area on the outskirts of Johannesburg, I was asked to wind up my window and re-check that my door was locked. As we neared our destination I was told that we would not be stopping even for red lights: 'It's too dangerous here,' said my guide. 'There's a large black squatter camp next to the road. They could throw a brick through the window or put a gun to your head. Sometimes they just take you out and shoot you before stealing your car.'
On this occasion, I was accompanying a representative of the Manacare Foundation, a small British charity which provides help for the destitute, among others, mainly in the form of food and donated clothing.
Entering the first home - the owner's vicious dogs having been locked up inside an abandoned car - I was led through the dark interior of a small dilapidated house, glimpsing broken and worn-out furniture, a paraffin cooking stove, cracked stone sink and various makeshift arrangements. The back yard was mainly dirt with rusty sheets of corrugated iron and other debris lying around. There were a few rabbits; some tired looking mealie (maize) plants and a couple of chickens scratching in the dust. This was the home of four generations of the Van der Merwer family, with seven children under the age of 18 still living here.
I asked the grandfather, Bertus, about the dogs. 'Ja, it's because the vicinity is getting more black. They harass and molest you all the time. We don't feel safe here any more. That's why we've got so many dogs. You have to watch out even going to that shop just up the road. The owner, a white man, was shot when they tried to rob him. He saw the gun and went to run away, but his helper, a black man, pulled the gun down so the owner only got shot in the leg, but the helper got shot in the heart. It's worse at night; you can't leave the house after dark. They're going to try to break in or attack you. After six o'clock we don't know if we are going to be safe or not. And with the squatter camp just up the road, it's got so bad. That squatter camp is even a no-go area for the police.'
Bertus used to have a good job, but he finished work in 2001. 'There was no pension scheme and I'm still struggling to get a pension from the government. They say I can't get one because my divorce papers are missing. The rats have eaten them. The rats are terrible here.'
I wondered how the family viewed the future, particularly for the younger children, and whether growing up in the new South Africa would make it easier for them. 'Och, well they're more used to it, but it's getting worse. Yes it's already gone too far. There's only a few whites still here. It's about 4m of us whites to about 40m blacks. We can do nothing. Some of the blacks try to communicate with our whites. They want to come up. They want to go out with white girls. Some of them want to marry our people. It happens. You can even get married to a black person now, but the blacks will never be like us. Never until the end of time. Some places will always be black, never be white, but we can't go overseas.'
Even the hospitals aren't safe. 'My baby was born in Baragwanath Hospital in Soweto,' says Bertus's niece, Karin. 'It's now the hospital for our area. It's clean but I don't feel safe going to Soweto. My father was robbed as he left the hospital. They took his bag, his ID book, cigarettes and even his glasses. The blacks have stolen everything. These days you have to take anything you need to the hospital: your own bedding, knives and forks, and even a bottle to feed your baby.'
A century ago, through economic necessity, countless Afrikaners were driven off their farms and into the cities. They did not have the skills needed to survive in the new environment. Many became destitute and were forced by circumstance to live in the poorest areas, cheek by jowl with Africans. This was a deeply humiliating experience for people whose identity was based on an ideology of superiority over black Africans. The impoverished whites of today now find themselves in that same position.
The greatest concentration of destitute whites is to be found to the south of Johannesburg in the Vaal Triangle, South Africa's version of the Ruhr - a district of heavy industry. Here, many people have just given up. Like lost souls they lead hopeless lives in the many shelters or missions which have sprung up to cater for the increasing number of homeless whites. Alcoholism and drug abuse, domestic violence, sexual abuse within families, family breakdown and an inability to resolve conflicts are all major problems.
At the shelter for the homeless, run by the Women's Federation, Afrikaner social workers believe the growing 'poor white' problem is largely the result of ignorance, of racist attitudes entrenched in the past and an inability to come to terms with the new reality of their diminished position. These people are confused and, like aliens, no longer recognise their own country. 'These people are not worldly,' says one social worker. 'They have always lived very isolated and sheltered lives. They can't even be bothered to watch the TV we've provided for them. There is no interest in other views and opinions and that makes it very difficult to help them.'
An attitude prevalent in Afrikaner society is that women do not work. With their menfolk unemployed, according to press reports, an increasing number of women are turning to the sex trade to maintain their lifestyle, while at SAVF, carers believe that 'too many women produce yet more children as a way to gain benefits. We had one woman of 25 with a husband over 50; she had her sixth child here and the oldest was five. It's breeding for money.'
There is also a longstanding culture of heavy drinking. 'There's a lady with six children who's been living here for a year or two,' says a member of staff. 'Both she and her children have been abused by various men. And now she's back with one of the most abusive of her ex-partners who completely traumatised her kids. Three months ago she moved in with some other guy, but that only lasted for three days. This is typical. The real problem is that they pass it on to the next generation, and that is why it never ends.'
It's the same, I am told, with child sex abuse, which the shelter believes is a widespread problem. 'I talked to the mother of a seven-year-old I suspected of being abused,' says another worker. 'She said she didn't think her husband was abusing her daughter, but even if he was, she was abused and she's turned out fine. Her mother knew that her dad was abusing her. So she thinks it's normal; it happens because it's the father's privilege I suppose, that he can do what he wants with his daughter. These women don't put themselves first to protect the child. It's like their maternal instincts are not working.'
Even gainful employment seems illusory. During apartheid a white boy could leave school at 15 and start work in an industry without any qualifications. By 17 he could have, for example, his welder's ticket and be earning a good salary. But now, with unemployment at 40 per cent, he'll be one of 500 youngsters going for that job. At the Women's Federation shelter they tell their unemployed residents that there is work out there, but that they can't choose these days. They have to take what they can get and they have to be willing to work alongside blacks. When an opportunity comes up, I'm told, 'A white person will want to talk salary and they want everything organised for them. A black person will just think, "I've got a family to feed" and go for it. Many of these people are not willing to do menial jobs, it's "not their work". When we succeed in finding employment for them, such as car guards, they either arrive drunk, sleep on the job, or don't turn up at all. We have exhausted all goodwill at the agencies.'
Poor white parents can't even motivate their kids to go to school and do well. It seems that they don't have dreams and aspirations, even for their children. 'I put my energy into the kids,' the social worker explains, 'because that's the most realistic investment to make. But some of these youngsters have never even been outside the Vaal Triangle.'
As well as the Women's Federation, the Solidarity trade union's Helping Hand Foundation, church groups and other small charities are making a genuine attempt to help these people. But it is widely recognised that some missions are run by less altruistic operators, homeowners suspected of making money at the expense of the most vulnerable, those who become trapped and institutionalised and whose children grow up knowing no other life.
Black squatter camps in South Africa continue to mushroom all over the country. They can be found alongside highways and on back roads, on unwilling farmers' fields and any vacant and convenient piece of land. Clinging ← to steep hillsides or wind-blown on dusty plains, these shantytowns have evolved in a random way. Their flimsy structures are nailed together and roofed with corrugated iron. They are forlorn, desolate and often dangerous places. White squatter camps, on the other hand, are a fact of life that many South Africans are only just beginning to comprehend.
We set off to find one, with a cargo of pasta, mealie-meal, rice and a box of fresh vegetables as a passport. Turning off the road, we parked alongside a pleasant suburban-style bungalow, the front stoop pretty with flowers and shaded by an awning. This seemed an unlikely setting for a squatter camp, but we entered, to find Sally, the owner, slumped on the sofa, her enormous bulk preventing much movement. After the initial introductions and some ingratiating explanations of how her family are trying, so hard, to help these 'poor people', I left my colleague and slipped out the back, followed quickly by Sally's right-hand woman. 'We're like a big family here,' she told me. 'One time we were 62 people with 17 kids, but it goes up and down.'
The back yard contained a number of shacks, clad with a random assortment of zinc sheets and packing-case plywood. Most doors were open, an attempt no doubt to create some ventilation in the fearsome heat of the metal hovels. The place was littered with scrap, from oil drums, abandoned furniture and car parts to metal sheets, breezeblocks and corrugated iron. At the perimeter, flimsy long-drop toilets provided for the needs of the inmates.
Grandpa Willem is handicapped and has been here for three months. In his filthy room, he sat on the bed slowly turning the pages of donated magazines. A cup of tea arrived during my interview with him and sat untouched on the commode which doubles as his bedside table. I was told he receives a disability allowance of 740R (£69) per month, of which Sally takes half - 'to help with the overheads'.
Paula, who is English-speaking, is also confined to a wheelchair. She passes the time by playing with her kitten as she sits in the doorway to her bunkroom and awaits the return of her husband from work. He is a car guard in the parking lot of Checkers supermarket. Relying on tips, she says he earns between 20 and 30 rand a day, half of which goes to Sally for water, lighting and food. 'That leaves us about six rand each [55p]. We get porridge in the morning, then maybe rice and veggies in the afternoon, and soup and bread at night. I don't get any disability allowance, although I've been in a wheelchair for a year. We've been here for three months. Before that we were at my sister's, but there were no lights or water and her husband drinks so much.'
The people I met at the camp seemed listless, depressed and without purpose, as they shuffled around aimlessly. There was an atmosphere of despair and hopeless resignation. Like sleepwalkers, they showed little emotion and reacted slowly and with great effort to my simple questions. I wondered if this was the result of a poor diet, or because they had lost everything.
Sally relies on donated food and clothing to sustain the camp; her overheads are minimal. Although her 'mission' is a registered charity, there have been some concerns about her operation; Manacare now makes up individual food parcels and gives them directly to Sally's tenants. Whatever the truth, there can be no doubt that Sally provides basic meals and a roof over the heads of people who otherwise could be sleeping out on the veld.
Despite the negative image of many of these people, there are impoverished whites who, regardless of the dramatic decline in their fortunes since political transformation, retain a sense of dignity and a positive outlook. Some now see that apartheid was not a good thing and think the future will be brighter now that black Africans are receiving a better education.
Yann and Mara are one such couple, living on the outskirts of Johannesburg. Yann is 53 and picks up odd jobs when and where he can. Mara speaks only Afrikaans and with no English most work is out of her reach. Their four children go to the local government school and are proud of their grades. They appear well integrated into the new South Africa, with friends of all races. They appear happy despite their harsh circumstances. There is no electricity at the house and Yann dreams of having a solar panel. At present he heats water in tin drums over a fire in the garden and carts it into the house. Mara hand-washes the clothes for a family of six and cooks on two paraffin stoves. It will be a long time before Yann has solar power.
Despite all the stereotypes of lower-class Afrikaner racism, there are of course many exceptions. Jannie, who I found begging by the roadside, is married to a 'coloured' (mixed race) woman. Things were fine until his leg was broken in a traffic accident. Since then he has not been able to find work. Gradually, the couple have lost everything. They had to sell their furniture and other possessions and, unable to meet the rent, were forced to leave their house. Now they stay in a dirty room in Johannesburg's inner city district of Hilbrow, notorious for its high crime rate. There is no water and they rely on a primus stove for cooking. Unable to care for their seven-year-old son, he now lives with his grandmother. Life is a daily struggle for survival. Each morning Jannie dons his one good shirt, washed and ironed, and sets off with his wife and their 'Hell is no joke' placard to take up position by the traffic lights. It will be many hours before they have enough money to eat. Then there is the rent to think about.
Many dispossessed whites live a transient lifestyle, their downward-spiralling circumstances forcing them to move from place to place. Many have lost touch with their families and people who might otherwise be able to help them. At the Women's Federation shelter I meet Jenny, who took refuge here after an unhappy relationship. She has family in England and wants to be photographed holding a picture of herself in better times, perhaps in the hope that someone might recognise her and get in touch.
When the first government of the new 'Rainbow nation' came to power in 1994, under Nelson Mandela and FW de Klerk, it inherited a legacy of black oppression after more than four decades of white minority rule. In an attempt to redress the inequalities of that regime, new radical policies were instigated to redistribute wealth and hope. Despite this, the majority of whites continue to live in the top income bracket. There is, however, little doubt that the gap between rich and poor is widening among all races. Those whites at the bottom end of the scale have seen the greatest decline in economic standards. Many of these people feel angry and bitter, because their living standards have plummeted in the new South Africa. It is these working-class whites previously protected by apartheid and still clinging to past ideologies who are the least equipped to adapt to current conditions. They are the new victims of apartheid. Hope for this new society lies with their children, many of whom are learning to integrate. When assimilation is complete, for the whites of South Africa, the story of apartheid will finally be over.