What Happens When a Group of Women get Together?
On Saturday, inspired by Cape Town Embrace, a group of women, mostly mothers, from Scarborough and surrounds, arrived at Buyiswa‘s house on Red Hill, with some tea and cake and fruit and biscuits. Some of the mothers from the Red Hill settlement were there to meet us, some more trickled in. We sat in a circle in chairs, clutching our steaming cups of tea, children playing around us and we shared why we were there. Buyiswa, who was hosting us, has spearheaded the Red Hill Literacy Programme – a project which sprung from her sitting room. She saw a need for a space for some of the children to do their homework after school and that has grown into an after school literacy programme helped by volunteers, as well as a feeding scheme to make sure that these children did not have to learn on an empty stomach. This programme is now a registered NPO and Buyiswa has won a Lead SA Award for her work. Victoria, Buyiswa’s neighbour and friend, joined her on this project and now helps run the literacy project. The women from Scarborough were all there because they all wanted to help somehow but did not know how to begin or who to approach. This was an opportunity to meet with some of the women on Red Hill to find out what some of the issues and needs were…and to meet and chat. And to meet and chat. Some of the women from Red Hill are unemployed or are single mothers supporting many family members on very little. The needs are simple, yet complex. Food. Rain jackets for children. School fees for the young children in the creche. They need the internet for the Literacy Project. Driver’s licenses – there is no reliable public transport. Building permission is needed for one woman’s house to change the roof (the old roof leaks, she needs special permission but does not know where to go to get this, if she changes it without permission, they will tear it down…at present her roof leaks onto her bed. She actually has the building materials to fix it but needs the permission first). A rape counsellor is needed. We discussed the possibility of opening up the clinic for an extra day for the pregnant women and the babies. At present, it only opens once a week for vaccinations. An offer was made to help start a vegetable garden. Connections were made and we meet again in two weeks time to chat further. Buyiswa sent me a text last night simply saying: “That was amazing.” And it was. Simple but amazing. So what happens when a group of women get together? Let’s see… If you would like to connect or help somehow, please let me...
Read MoreDear Zuma…
What is this nonsense I hear about you wanting to separate teenage mothers from their babies, and wanting to send those same teenage mothers away to a place like Robben Island to finish their education? “They must be … forced to go to school far away,” You said, “They must be educated by government until they are empowered. Take them to Robben Island … make them sit there and study until they are qualified to come back and work to look after their kids.” Wow! This makes me so angry – how dare you? No talk of support? Or education? Have you ever been a teenage girl in South Africa? South Africa – this wonderful country of ours but where women are more likely to be raped than educated? South Africa – this beautiful country of ours where one in 6 girls before the age of twelve has been sexually abused? The same South Africa? Have you ever been pregnant? Given birth? Been flooded with the hormones of labour and then had your baby snatched from you? Taken away? Been separated? Had your breasts aching with milk and longing? How archaic is your thinking? ...
Read MoreThis is a Baby of Rape
I live in the seaside village of Scarborough, near Cape Town, at the tip of Africa. It is rather idyllic; small, safe and beautiful. I live in a simple wooden shack near the beach. Life is simple but good. This morning I went to see a pregnant client at her home in Glencairn. It is about a ten minute drive. It was overcast and drizzling but warm. We sat at her table, sipping rooibos chai and chatting while her nearly two year old daughter played around us. I left after an hour or so. All was well with mother and baby. We hugged and said our goodbyes. I drove back to Scarborough and at the bottom of Red Hill, a young mother from the settlement was hitch hiking with her baby on her hip. I stopped and with relief she hopped into the back of the car and told me she was travelling to Ocean View to the clinic there. Her baby had a rash and she needed to have it checked out. I apologised that I was only going to Scarborough ( I had another pregnant client to see there) but could at least take her that far. She said she was happy with that. I asked her how old her baby was and where she had given birth to her. “She is seven months…I gave birth to her in the Eastern Cape,” she said. I asked her if this was her first child. No, she replied, this was her second. Her eldest child was already eight years old. “This is a baby of rape,” she said matter of factly. I was not sure what to say. I turned around and looked her in her eyes and said, “I am sorry.” I am still not sure if that was the right thing to say. But what do you say? I then turned back again and looked at the baby. So sweet and innocent and beautiful, sitting in her mother’s lap. “Your daughter is beautiful.” I said. She laughed and agreed. When she got out of my car I asked her what her daughter’s name was. She told me. I repeated it back. “What does it mean?” I asked. ” It means, ‘We are Friends’…” Then hoisting her daughter onto her back, she slammed the car door, smiled, waved, and walked...
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