The place where I live. My home. My haven.

vaal-river-sunset

For those who would like to know where I come from, this is it. This is where I work, study and play. This is my home.

P.S – Scroll to the bottom (just below the gallery) for the English version 😀 This time I wrote two! You’re welcome 😉

Vaaldriehoek alles behalwe vaal

Agter die mistroostige bruin wolk wat oor die Vaaldriehoek hang, of die “vuil driehoek” waarna so dikwels verwys word, skuil ’n ryk geskiedenis.

Teen dagbreek is ’n ongelooflike sonsopkoms in skakerings van roesbruin en oranje-rooi te sien – kompleet soos ’n wintersoggend op die platteland – alles te danke aan die besoedeling wat fabrieke in die lug in pomp.

Die Vaaldriehoek bestaan uit drie klein industriële dorpe: Vereeniging, Vanderbijlpark en Sasolburg. Laasgenoemde is die tuiste van Sasol, ’n internasionale geïnkorporeerde energie en chemiese maatskappy, asook ArcelorMittal voorheen bekend as Iscor.

In 1942 kon die Suid-Afrikaanse Yster en Staal Industriële Korporasie, geleë in Pretoria, nie verder uitbrei nie – weens ’n gebrek aan spasie. Jan Smuts, die destydse Eerste Minister, het Hendrik van der Bijl (toesighouer van die fabriek in Pretoria) gevra om die regering te adviseer oor industriële ontwikkeling van Suid-Afrika.

So is genoeg spasie in Vanderbijlpark opgespoor en ’n fabriek, Iscor, is in 1947 geopen. Vanderbijlpark is in 1949 geproklameer en het in 1952 amptelik munisipale status verwerf.

ArcelorMittal is die grootste staalprodusent in Afrika met hoofkantore in Vanderbijlpark. Volgens hul webwerf, het ArcelorMittal ’n inkomste van R30 miljard, 16% aandele in die produksie van steenkool en hulle besit ’n reg op hoë gehalte ystererts-reserwes vanaf die Sishen-myn en die Thabazimbi-myn.

Sasol (Suid-Afrikaanse steenkool, olie en gas Korporasie) is twaalf kilometer suid van Vanderbijlpark, in Sasolburg, geleë.

Sasolburg is aanvanklik as ’n “maatskappy dorp” vir Sasol se werkers gestig. Maar die vinnige groei van die bevolking het munisipale status in 1967 aangemoedig.

Vaaltriangle.info sê Sasolburg se ekonomie is afhanklik van Sasol se chemiese nywerhede en dra tot tussen 50% en 60% van die dorp se GGP by (Algemene Groei Eiendomme) ─ wat omskakel in drie tot vier miljard rand.

Vereeniging, twaalf kilometer wes van Sasolburg, is geleë aan die noordelike oewer van die Vaalrivier en is bedoel om ’n industriële gebied te wees. Steenkoolvelde is in 1878 ontdek en ontwikkel deur Samuel Marks en Isaac Lewis. Vereeniging is ook vindingryk in hulpbronne soos water en vuur-klei dolomiet.

Dit is juis hiér waar die ryk geskiedenis begin het. Tydens die Anglo-Boereoorlog moes mense wat nie oorspronklik van die Transvaal is nie, en nie ’n geleibrief kon kry om aan te bly nie, vinnig hul huise verlaat. Hulle het deur Vereeniging in steenkool- en bees-vragmotors gereis en later ’n teiken van bloedgevegte geword.

Afgesien van die bloedgevegte is Vereeniging ook bekend om die plek waar die geweld geëindig het. Op 31 Mei 1902 is die Vrede van Vereeniging-verdrag onderteken. Die ooreenkoms het ’n einde gebring aan die konflik tussen die Britse kroon en die Boere.

Die Vaaldriehoek, veral Vereeniging, is ’n simbool van vryheid. Dit is egter die vyf omliggende townships wat integraal deel was van Suid-Afrika se geskiedenis: die afskaffing van apartheid.

Boipatong, Bophelong, Evaton, Sebokeng en Sharpeville is oor die Vaaldriehoek versprei. Inwoners van die townships was betrokke by die uitmoording van mense wat, volgens vaalhistory.org.za, as ’n “smeulvuur van menslike woede” beskryf is.

Op 21 Maart 1960 het swart mans sonder hulle pasboeke voor hul naaste polisie stasie, betoog en geëis dat hulle in hegtenis geneem word. Dit was glo, volgens ’n webblad oor Suid-Afrikaanse geskiedenis; southafrica.info, die idee van die Pan African Congress (PAC) om sodoende alle paswette af te skaf. Die PAC het gereken as te veel mense gearresteer word gaan die tronke vol wees en die land se ekonomie tot ’n stilstand bring.

Die Sharpeville polisie het die massas op hulle sien afstorm en paniekbevange skote begin vuur. So is 69 mense vermoor en honderde beseer.

Geweld het op 12 Januarie 1991 in Sebokeng uitgebreek toe roudraers van ’n ANC-lid aangeval is. Die oorlede leier van Sebokeng en ANC-lid, Chris Nangalembe, se gemeenskapslede is tydens sy roudiens aangeval. ’n Bende gewapende mans het die begrafnistent binnegeval en handgranate gegooi. Meer as 30 lede is vermoor.

Volgens sahistory.org.za is die Boipatong-slagting, op 17 Januarie 1992, die “bloedigste en mees wrede” aanval rakende die Vaaldriehoek se township-geweld nóg. ’n Groep van 300 mans het inwoners van Joe Slovo, ’n informele nedersetting net buite Vereeniging, aangeval. Vermoedelik wou hierdie mans die onderhandelinge tussen die Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP) en die African National Congress (ANC) ondermyn.

Agter die rook en vuil lug skuil daar meer as net besoedeling. Die Vaaldriehoek is ’n baken van vryheid, versoening en vrede. Die geweld wat hier plaas gevind het honderde se oë oopgemaak en gelei tot ’n beter Suid-Afrika.

Vaal Triangle, more than meets the eye

Behind a gloomy cloud, like a brown mushroom hanging over the Vaal Triangle, hides a rich history: a history of bloodshot fists and reconciliation.

An amazing sunrise, in shades of russet and orange-red, creates brilliant ambiance – almost like a winter morning in the countryside – all thanks to the pollution factories pump into the air.

The Vaal Triangle has been my home for close to eleven years. This is the place where I grew up, fell irrevocably in love for the first time and discovered my love for journalism – the very place that taught me it is important to know your history because it shapes your perception and understanding of society.

The Vaal Triangle is a lot bigger than one might think. The very reason it is given the name “Triangle” is because it consists of three small industrial towns: Vereeniging, Vanderbijlpark and Sasolburg. The latter is the home of Sasol, an international incorporated energy and chemical company, as well as ArcelorMittal formerly known as Iscor.

In 1942 the South African Iron and Steel Industrial Corporation, located in Pretoria, could not expand due to the lack of space. Jan Smuts, the then Prime Minister, asked Hendrik van der Bijl (supervisor of the Pretoria factory) to advise the government on the industrial development of South Africa.

Consequently, enough space was found in Vanderbijlpark and a factory, Iscor, opened in 1947. Vanderbijlpark was proclaimed in 1949 and reached official municipal status in 1952.

ArcelorMittal is the largest steel producer in Africa, with headquarters in Vanderbijlpark. According to their website, ArcelorMittal has an income of R30 billion, a 16% share in the production of coal and they have a right to high quality iron ore reserves from the Sishen and Thabazimbi mine.

Sasol (South African Coal, Oil and Gas Corporation) is situated twelve miles south of Vanderbijlpark in Sasolburg. It was initially a town for Sasol’s workers. However, the rapid growth of the population encouraged municipal status in 1967.

Vaaltriangle.info says Sasolburg’s economy is dependent on Sasol’s chemical industries and contributes to between 50% and 60% of the town’s GGP at (General Growth Properties) ─ which converts into three to four billion dollars.

Vereeniging, twelve miles west of Sasolburg, is located on the northern banks of the Vaal River and is intended to be an industrial zone. Coalfields were discovered in 1878 and developed by Samuel Marks and Isaac Lewis. Vereeniging is also rich in resources such as water and fire-clay dolomite.

This is where the Vaal Triangle’s rich history began. During the Anglo-Boer War people who were not originally from the Transvaal and whom could not acquire a passbook to stay, quickly had to leave their homes. They travelled through Vereeniging in coal and cattle trucks and became targets of blood battles.

Apart from the blood battles, Vereeniging is also known as the place where the violence between the British and Boers ended. On May 31, 1902, the Peace of Vereeniging Treaty was signed. This agreement brought an end to the conflict between the British Crown and the Boers.

The Vaal Triangle, Vereeniging especially, is a symbol of freedom. It is the five surrounding townships which form an integral part of South Africa’s history: the abolition of apartheid.

Boipatong, Bophelong, Evaton, Sebokeng and Sharpeville are spread about the Vaal Triangle. Residents of the townships were involved in the massacre of people who, according vaalhistory.org.za is described as “smouldering human rage”.

On March 21, 1960, black men without their passbooks marched to their nearest police station, protesting and demanding that they be arrested. It was believed, according to a website about South African history; southafrica.info, to be the idea of the Pan African Congress (PAC) that all pass laws be abolished. The PAC considered if too many people were arrested, the prisons would be too full and the country’s economy would come to a standstill.

The Sharpeville police saw the masses rushing towards them and, in panic and absolute fear, began to fire shots. Consequently, 69 people were killed and hundreds injured.

Violence erupted on January 12, 1991 in Sebokeng when mourners of an ANC member were attacked. Community members of Chris Nangalembe, the late leader of Sebokeng and ANC member, were attacked during his funeral. A gang of armed men, invaded the funeral tent and threw hand grenades. More than 30 members were killed.

According sahistory.org.za the Boipatong massacre, on January 17, 1992, was the “bloodiest and most brutal” onslaught on a Vaal Triangle township yet. A group of 300 male residents of Joe Slovo, an informal settlement just outside of Vereeniging were viciously attacked. Presumably, these men wanted to undermine the negotiations between the Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP) and the African National Congress (ANC).

Pollution and smoke which hangs over the Vaal Triangle, as you enter it, is a smoke screen which hides an important part of South Africa’s history. The Vaal Triangle is a beacon of freedom, reconciliation and peace. The violence that took place here opened hundreds of eyes and led to a better South Africa

Democracy, right or privalege?

You would think we would revel in our freedom on Election Day. For some, this freedom is refused even after 20 years of democracy.

Yesterday South Africans raised their left thumbs in pride to celebrate their birth-right – voting. Selina Mokoena, a 27 year old mother of two from Vanderbijlpark, was denied this right.

Armed with a pen and a notepad I set off to Vanderbijlpark’s SE5 voting station in hopes to see a braai or two. I have never been so wrong. All our voting station was left with was a “tannie” selling curry and rice – very South African…

After the initial excitement of my first municipal voting experience in 2009, and wandering around aimlessly in search of a tent to catch fire, my notepad remained empty. SE5’s voting station mostly consisted of old people and white people. No one really interesting, right?

Finally, when hunger hit me like a miner strike, I set off with my best bud to our VERY South African KFC. Little did I know between some drumsticks and oily fries my story laid, waiting for me.

Mokoena (27) is a vibrant, friendly young woman. She smiled sincerely when taking my order and even made a few jokes. However, there was sadness in her eyes. Being an inherently curious person, I couldn’t stop myself from asking her what’s wrong. She replied with an earnest, “I’m just tired”.

Picking up extra shifts to provide for her two children, Jacob and Cindi, is the main reason for her bloodshot eyes. Getting pregnant out of wedlock is considered a sin in the Xhosa culture. Therefore she has no support system.

Naturally, being Election Day and an inherently curious person, I asked Selina if she had voted. Her face became void of emotions, “No, I haven’t voted today. I’m not allowed”. I was stunned.

Unfortunately, the SE5 KFC management did not want to talk about their staff. Especially to a nosy student.

In a year were we celebrate 20 years of democracy and freedom, as well as enjoying our voting right, people are still refused to vote.

What is the purpose of democracy if everyone cannot enjoy it then? In a 09:00 to 22:00 shift, an hour break is not nearly enough to get a taxi, stand in a very long queue to vote, drive back and still be in time for the rest of your shift.

For Selina, a mother driven to provide and care for her children, voting is just as important is bringing home food at night. She sees her vote as a contribution to their education, having food in their bellies and a future where they are empowered.

I am disgusted in the person denying Selina this right. But, I also feel sorry for Selina – dependent on her job and ignorant as to what her human rights are.

I just hope that in time people will come to realise the importance of voting and enjoying our freedom. And that Selina and her children will have prosperous future.

The Kite Man

The wind outside was mimicking the storm I felt raging inside me, almost as if it was mocking me. I was still hurt. Cuddled underneath layers of blankets, each layer protecting me from the cold, I lay nestled in a sheath of warmth. I was not trying to escape the cold weather, rather the cold of his absence.

With the blanket pulled up to my nose my eyes scanned the empty room, searching for his presence. Finally, my eyes found respite in the kite he gave me. It lay beneath heaps of old shoes and worn-out clothes, only the tail visible.

I reluctantly pulled myself out of bed and dragged my feet towards the last bit of evidence left of our foiled relationship. It was not broken as I suspected, not like my heart was. It just needed a bit of dusting off and it would be able to take to the sky as if nothing ever happened.

The sharp rays of a warming sun spilled through my windows and onto the floor. The glass dolphin hanging from my curtain rail scattered the rays into a brilliant rainbow against the opposite wall. It made me happy seeing such beauty amidst the darkness of my room.

The storm had settled, but the wind was howling on. I walked over to my window and peered out to see an actual rainbow stretching across a clean blue sky. For a moment I had forgotten I was sad. For a moment I had forgotten about him.
I grabbed the kite and headed for the door.

Almost frozen in time, the kite flitted effortlessly through the sky – dancing on the wind. It was a beautiful site. Calm. Equanimous.

It reminded me of the times we had. The times he would look down at me and smile. The times he would tell me he loves me with his soft, assertive voice. The times his arms felt like a haven when the rest of the world was losing it.
I miss those times.

The cold wetness of the park bench against my back was broken by the sound of a stranger’s voice. He, too, had a soft assertive voice. I looked up to find a beautiful blonde man, illumed by the red and yellow light surrounding him.

The tender “hello you” from his flushed pink lips was followed by an extended hand. It was not demanding or exact, more suggesting and inviting. So, I took it.
His touch was soft, yet strong, and in one comely swoop he pulled me into his embrace.

I could feel his breath against my cheek and his thumping heart against my chest. The closeness of his face made me notice his stunning green eyes, piercing through mine. The closeness of his body forced me to feel his strength, an oasis for mine.
Was I falling in love?

I felt a slight pull in my right hand. It was the kite, reminding me of its presence. For a moment I had forgotten about it, consumed in the moment. Devoured by the stranger’s beauty.
I was on the brink of letting go – letting go of him, or letting go of the kite. I had to make my choice.

I pushed against his chest and fell back onto the bench – slipping form his arms. His strong grasp was replaced by an aching pain against my back and legs. His warmth was replaced by loneliness and his beauty by the cold stench of winter.
In a moment he was gone.

 I looked up at the kite flying riotously in the air. It was an unseemly site. Agitated. Turbulent.

In case you couldn’t realized or deduce what this story is about, it’s about clinging on to the past so much that you don’t realize when something new and better comes your way. I really hop you could notice all the symbolism and metaphors.

xoxo Queen B

Born-Frees, do you want change?

For the sake of atmosphere, play this while reading my post 😀

You cannot complain about your feet hurting if you do not have any feet – just like you cannot complain about our country if you refuse to vote.

I truly hope that all of you are aware that it is Election Day on Wednesday. If not, have you been living under a rock? The feud between our political parties is worse than that of the Capulets and Montagues. You are bound to get caught in the crossfire at some point.

This is my first opportunity to vote as I was only 17 in the previous election. And I will be damned if I let the opportunity slip away.

 

 The future is in the hands of the “born-free” generation – the children of the new South Africa. The older generation had their chance. It is no longer just their duty, but ours as well.

When asking our domestic worker, Anna Sithole (56) from Sebokeng, if she was going to vote she said it is no longer up to her. “The young ones must take care of South Africa now. They have better education and can make informed decisions”. Anna believes her children and grand-children are the hope of South Africa. 

We are in an empowered position to bring REAL change. That is why voting is so important. We were born with this right, the right many fought and died for. Why let the hardships of overcoming apartheid to a democratic society be in vain?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It is a hard realisation for us, the born-frees. We do not realise we CAN make a difference with a single vote. Your single vote might just be the deciding vote, or the vote that allocates one more seat in parliament. 

Not only is it reckless not to vote but a “permission-card” to the ruling party to do what they want. We should remember the words of our National Anthem, It is depicting in our national anthem, “Sounds the call to come together, And united we shall stand”. 

Tracey Ruff is a journalism student (just like me) at WITS University. She is one of my favourite bloggers and a born-free, who understands the world we live in; “We have terrible social problems in our country that are not going to disappear for a long time to come. But we have to keep working towards solving the problem”.

The only way to solve these problems is to stand together as a nation and vote.

In this upcoming election I will not be voting for a “white” DA or a “black” ANC. It is not about race anymore – it is ignorant to still think of South Africa in that way. I will be voting for change, as should every one of you.

Just Do It!

For those unacquainted with the voting process, here are the basics:

Voting Process © IEC

Voting Process © IEC

Trespassing, ghosts and an abandoned hospital

This was back in 2012, since then they have started to revamp the hospital for the opening in 2015. It still remains scary as fu#*.

-Burger Aucamp


I have always had this weird interest in the supernatural. Even though it scares me to death (no pun intended) I have never really thought that one day I might stare this alter-reality in the face.

Kempton Hospital (formerly known as Khayalami hospital) closed down 16 years ago, allegedly, due to a shortage of staff. Others mention transformation plans and, as suggested by the department of health and safety, due to an inappropriate location and forgo thereof.  The hospital, one of Gauteng’s best back in the day, housing 400 staff members and 1000 patient beds closed down on December 26th 1996, unexpectedly. 

At this stadium of closure, there were only 14 beds open, two temporary doctors and a few nurses on duty.  It is as if they, on that day, put down their scalpels and walked out leaving behind open registers, patient reports, medicine and medical equipment. 

Till this day, files lay strewn on the floor and an estimated R10 million of equipment sealed behind creaking doors.  The government nonchalantly whips out up to R700 000 a year security fares and R1 million in taxes to keep it standing. With each year the cost of reopening increases.

Why?  What are they hiding? Why haven’t they broken it down yet? Why spend so much on security if they aren’t using it?  Why leave the unused equipment and not distribute it to those who can use it?  So many questions, yet so little answers.  Rumours of the hospital reopening are making rounds. But will the government really pend R270 million on reopening a 1000 bed sickbay for only 217 beds?

My heart raced wildly standing in front of the mesh-gate a few meters from the still unseen hospital. Up to this point the full effect had not sunk in yet.  A R50 bribe from each of us gave us access to the premises. Little did we know the guard would have settled for ONE R50 note and a six-pack beer – instead of nine R50 notes.

The guard helpfully lead us up along driveway to the two, eight-level buildings. The surroundings were eerie and the once warm air was chilled. As we stood at the back entrance of the hospital I heard a faint “whooooo” sound. Apparently South-Africa has birds that make a “whooooo” sound. 

Just before the ambulance entrance a dilapidated wheelchair stood, facing us, as if welcoming its freaked out visitors.  Total darkness awaited us as on the other side of the door. The inside of the building revealed exactly what I expected.  Worn-out walls smothered us and the unknown greeted us with every step.  It was only on the 3rd floor most of us felt our hearts racing and experienced difficulty breathing. 

The nine of us headed through the halls like bulls in a china shop. There were a few incidents were we could hear some freaky things and see some unexplained shadows. One of our friends said she saw a little girl peeking from behind a wall and even called her mommy, experienced a full on pregnancy in the pediatric ward and saw a boy running in the grass.

Another felt nausea upon our exit which only went away when we were safely in the car.  I, and three other friends, waited impatiently in the car for the other five who went to explore some more. They too experienced a few close encounters with Caspar the friendly “oh-it’s-just-another-group” ghost.

The eerie sounds and flashlight-shadows we saw didn’t freak us out as much as what we found upon our return home.  Pictures revealed orbs (luckily white), a man with a hat and a freaky devil face baring red teeth. Our video camera also recorded something unexplained: a man whistling, someone calling out the name Jacques, a man speaking in a different language and a little girl saying hello… hello… hello…

Could this just be the guards having some fun freaking out the visitors, or is it really haunted by the patients who once checked in and never checked out???

***********

Unfortunately I lost all the footage from that night, however here is a few pictures from other brave tourists.

Photo by © Grant Peel

Photo by © Grant Peel

Photo by © Glen Bloch

Photo by © Glen Bloch

Photo by © Glen Bloch

Photo by © Glen Bloch

Photo by © Glen Bloch

Photo by © Glen Bloch

Photo by © Glen Bloch

Photo by © Glen Bloch