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 MoreFire
I cannot write without somehow paying tribute the fire that ravaged the mountains of Cape Town this last week and the men and women who worked tirelessly to fight the flames and save the homes, families and animals affected. I also want to extend my condolences to the families of Nazeem Davies and Bees Marais…I am very sorry for your loss. Mountain fires are a way of life here in Cape Town and we all accept and expect them in a way at this time of the year, when it is dry and the South Easter blows, but I think we have to agree that the fires this last week affected us on a grand scale and seemed relentless. On Tuesday night, after that very very hot day, I lay in bed listening as the wind picked up and I was sure I could smell smoke through my open window. I went outside, it was about two in the morning, and I saw many lights on in many of the houses. I think many Scarbarians were also listening and waiting attentively. A vague orange glow seemed to be coming from over the mountain. I went back inside and went online to try and find out what was going on and saw via Twitter and Facebook the streams of posts and photos regarding the fires in Noordhoek, Kalk Bay, Muizenberg, Clovelly, Tokai, Hout Bay and Constantia. Friends were evacuating their homes and the fire seemed out of control. I felt quite helpless watching these posts on my stream and my own memories around being evacuated when there was a fire here in Scarborough seven years ago were evoked. In 2008, when I was 38 weeks pregnant with my youngest daughter, a fire ripped through Scarborough, burning homes. I was visiting a friend here in the village with my children on the day for an afternoon play but it soon became evident that staying put was not a good idea. The fire seemed to be advancing very quickly and had already engulfed some homes, the mountain was ablaze and Scarborough filled with smoke. We went down to the beach where we also slowly became smoked out, it eventually became difficult to breathe. There we were, two mothers, on the beach, no car (her husband was up the mountain fighting the flames, mine was playing a concert – he is a musician) , with 5 children, one of us pregnant, getting smoked out. Eventually we were spotted by a sympathetic paramedic who drove us to Kommetjie where we ate pizzas with our sooty faced children until family and friends could come and collect us. That evening we could return to Scarborough and thankfully neither of our homes had burnt down – although other friends were not as lucky. But I remember the thin trickle of black dust that seemed to rain down on us after that, covering everything. Around two weeks later, I gave birth to a sweet baby girl – Kaira, after 4 hours of labour, at home. Life goes on, I...
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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