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Author of Citizen and Pariah, Vanya Gastrow completed her PhD in 2017. She holds a BA LLB MPhil (private law) from UCT and is an admitted attorney.
Her research interest in law and society has resulted in a compelling book about xenophobia, foreign traders and their existence in South African townships, a complex topic. A visceral reporting style reveals a parallel fantastical legal ‘reality’ that in no way reflects the constitutional laws of SA.
Words: Laura Jones
Those who have never set foot in a township will develop a new and educated view about the enormous part townships play in South African society, as Vanya Gastrow unpicks a sub-strata of systems that work parallel to local laws. Her book transports the reader to the heart of the townships that evoke fear in many of us, appalled and horrified by the levels of poverty and crime, often preferring to look away.
Some have forgotten, others not old enough to know, but Steve Biko was sceptical about black assimilation into society. He believed black South Africans couldn’t escape their predicament by trying to assimilate into white society. Biko was adamant that only when blacks and whites could openly discuss issues about race, would there be true unity.
His statement infers an emotional intelligence beyond finger pointing, and was particularly relevant during the dismantling of apartheid. But what has become of that bold, open-minded thinking today? Do South Africans have enough maturity and depth to want to challenge their belief systems? Or are we worn out and angry after decades of abuse from governments that have failed to deliver, let alone unify people? These are difficult questions.
Citizen and Pariah not only lifts a lid on xenophobia – which exists as part of the giant fabric of township life, ingrained in the psyche of every township dweller – but also informs and exposes the truth, for a renewed understanding of how and why violence is perpetrated in the townships. There is deep insight on how residents live and deal with criminal behaviour, and form certain attitudes in their own societies. You’ll gain an understanding of why the government and police often ignore what goes on in townships.
FICTIONAL LAWS
Vanya reports that a Reverend Mbekwa, who has chaired meetings between traders in Khayelitsha for years, addressed an audience at Khayelitsha Resource Centre about foreign traders in Cape Town. She writes: “What he describes as official ‘law’ is partly fictional… No law in Cape Town requires spaza shops to possess permits. Likewise there is no by-law limiting the so-called influx of foreign traders in the neighbourhood or city. But no one in the room – including representatives of the South African Police Service who are there – seems willing to question Mbekwa’s construction of a parallel legal reality”.
One of the biggest mistakes you can make, as an urban South African, is to assume that township society is disorganised and haphazard.
Quite understandably Vanya says townships on the fringes of Cape Town rely on self-help and governance. The communities are meticulously organised from street level upwards with street committees convening regularly, sometimes twice a week. Unresolved issues are dealt with by area committees and thereafter escalated to ward or township committees. All of these fall under the South African National Civic Organisation (SANCO) invested in township governance.
This highly regulated system incorporates laws and punishments that are entirely fictional, running in a parallel reality to real local laws. It’s two different worlds. Vanya explains that
this fabricated system often overrides many voices at street level, unable to compete with the hierarchy. She says that these rules and customs can mean death or injury as punishments can be violent, explaining that members of the community enforce their laws themselves. Police and government are reluctant to get involved, preferring to sit on the side- lines to avoid ‘escalation’ and outbreaks of violence, doing little to correct residents’ misinterpretation of the law. The casualties of these informal systems are foreigner traders.
Vanya writes, “In most cities in South Africa Somalis have established neighbourhood enclaves where they live in tight-knit communities that are largely cut off from mainstream South African society.” She says that SA residents tolerate them because of their low prices and the range of services they offer. Most Somali asylum seekers or refugees can legally live and work in SA. But their rights are made tenuous by SA’s corrupt and erratic refugee reception offices.
SOCIAL JUSTICE IN TOWNSHIPS
A woman Vanya interviews describes punishment that is meted out, recalling a problematic youth in Lloyd who repeatedly committed crime. The youth was apprehended, and the committee called a meeting to discuss his fate. Residents in attendance were frustrated and at their wits’ end, and after some discussion, community leaders at the meeting requested that all women leave the venue.
“The woman shakes her head as she thinks back. At the time she found the request odd, she says, but she followed through with the instruction and left. The men who remained behind apparently surround the delinquent youth and beat him to death.” Vanya writes, “This dramatic illustration is difficult for me fully to absorb and I drive home in numbed shock.”
She documents, after interviewing a shop owner, “Just operating a spaza shop can be a form of psychological warfare. ‘I couldn’t sleep at night,’ a former Khayelitsha
trader confided. Three of his friends were murdered in separate incidents in his vicinity. While lying restlessly in bed a night, his mind would jitter with thoughts of assailants lying in wait.”
“To a great extent violent vengeance was as much a means of gaining a sense of control over local surroundings as it was a way of pursuing justice,” Vanya says.
“Meting out violence against criminals, suspects or ‘skollies’ seemed more like a purging, an attempt violently to remove what was perceived as wrong or corrupt within society. Through such acts residents were able to vent deep-seated feelings of social and personal frustration and disaffection, and create a renewed sense of order and control.”