mrbaggins1

For most of my life I’ve been a Constant Reader usually averaging a book a week. For some reason I fell out of the reading habit last year only finishing 19 books. Dreams, Schemes and Themes also sort of petered out.

Stephen King got me back into rhythm of reading.

 I don’t appreciate the classics but as far as I’m concerned a good King novel beats Dickens, Dostoevsky and Leo Tolstoy hands down. I’m still disappointed that Anna didn’t kick the bucket on page 20 of that horrid Tolstoy book which is the last “classic” I’ve read.

I am a Cultural Philistine.

I know.

Through the 1970’s and 80’s in my opinion King was primarily an author who in the horror genre. “Christine” is one of my favourites from that time.  I still have the hots for a 1958 Plymouth Fury – an ideal car for a road trip – but definitely not with Ronald LeBay riding shotgun.  

“The Stand” first published in 1978 is features high on my list of best books I’ve read.

His recent novels like Lisey’s Story and Duma Key have beautiful storylines with a touch of the supernatural but they are not traditional horror stories. 11/22/63, the book that kick-started my reading habit again in January is in a similar vein.  

John F Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas on that fateful date and the world changed forever. The premise of the novel is that, if you had the chance to chance the course of history, would you? And would the consequences be worth it? Strangely, that day is one of my earliest memories as an 8-year old, even in faraway South Africa. A neighbouring kid ran breathlessly across the road shouting “There’s going to be war with the Russians. Kennedy was killed……”

I’m currently reading “Full Dark, No Stars”, a collection of novellas by The Man, which one reviewer described as “relentlessly horrible”. I agree.

1922, the first in story in the collection has already scared the living bejesus out of me. It’s the first person confession of Wilfred James for the murder of his wife because she wants to one-hundred acres of farmland bequeathed to her. Wilfred manipulates his teenaged son into helping him murdering his own mother. They dump her body down a well on the farm. Obviously this has horrific consequences for dear old Will.  No more spoilers except that rodents - like in R.A.T.S.  - feature large in the plot-line. I don’t really suffer from musophobia or whatever; ♥ girl does, but the R.A.T.S.  in 1922 are really relentlessly horribly!

One of the beauties of Stephen King’s writing is that he can create a whole movie script within the confines of a novella; as he did with The Shawshank Redemption.

1922 will make a classic creepy Noir American Gothic film. Mr. King, thank you for re-awakening the love of a good book in me.

 And I still refuse to read on Kindle.

SWARTBERGPASS - SPIRIT OF THE GREAT HEART

I regularly fly to Cape Town on business. I often sit in a window seat staring out over the wide and barren Karoo landscape passing down below. I sometimes wondered who would choose to live in such a seemingly godforsaken place. But beauty is where one finds it.

As a wannabe photographer I was captivated by the purity of light when we drove those roads less traveled – The Prince, Captain Underpants and I.  Harsh at noon and in mid-summer the sun shines late into the evening. It cloaks the world in soft hues of blue, rose and orange as darkness falls.  This brought peace to my jaded soul so used the bustle, noise and artificial light of big city living. Driving some 2 000 kilometers meandering through small towns, little hamlets and stopping in places I’ve never been before showed me the true splendor of wide open spaces

What was it like 200 years ago? The trekboere must have spent months on end without having any interaction with others which resonates in the age old adage of “in sickness and in health, in good times or in bad, in joy as well as sorrow” – It wasn’t an option to bugger off to dear old mum when the going got tough – If she was close she would have been living in the room right next to you!

I’m currently reading “Trackers” by Deon Meyer a South African novelist which I stumbled on recently. I’m reading it in Afrikaans, the language of my birth; the language of the Karoo. It’s a great read and the action is partly set against the backdrop of a farm in the Loxton area. Deon Meyer has a house in Loxton, but I don’t think he lives there permanently

In “Trackers” he writes, loosely translated -

These people belong to the Karoo, their intertwined (hi)stories stretches over many lifetimes and is part of the regions DNA. Here they tolerate and they forgive as loyalties had been forged over many generations.  Their forefathers fought and died side-by-side in the Anglo-Boer War, there’s a shared suffering in an unforgiving landscape – through drought, pest and plague. The isolation meant that they had to learn to rely on each other and to tolerate. Tomorrow you have to face the same people, over and over, day in, day out – at the trading store, the church fête, and the sheep auctions

“I have my hands and can make something out of nothing. Leave the world a better and prettier place than you found it.”

Outa’s philosophies

The subtext of Dreams, Schemes and Themes is “Here’s to the Maniacs, Visionaries and Wide-Eyed Dreamers” to pay tribute those amazing people marching to a different drumbeat than most of us whose stuck in the maze of the daily drudge. The late Jan Schoeman better known as plain “Outa Lappies” - The Philosopher of the Plains -  as he’s described in “Karoo Keepsakes” needs a special mention.

I’m fascinated by graffitos, street artists and other creatives who make amazing stuff from cast off junk and found things. I’m fascinated by the early work of Jean-Michel Basquait, Niki de Saint Phalle’s Tarot garden in Tuscany, Isaiah Zagar’s Magic Garden in Philadelphia, Fanozi 'Chickenman' Mkhize road signs, The Owl House of Helen Martins in Nieu Bethesda, the photography and journals of Peter Beard and Dan Eldon. I recently stumbled on the pictorial record of the ongoing construction of The Chapel of Jimmy Ray, Andado McLauchlin’s gallery in San Miguel de Allende in Mexico on Flickr, http://www.flickr.com/photos/anado/ . I’d love to visit this hodge-podge of colour one day.  One more dream to add to my bucket-list.

I’m not enough of an art snob or critic to have an opinion whether Outsider Art constitutes real art or whether it’s rubbish. I like what I like because these creations speak to my unquiet soul.

This definition of Art Brut is about how I see it;

 "Art Brut", or "outsider art", consists of works produced by people who for various reasons have not been culturally indoctrinated or socially conditioned. They are all kinds of dwellers on the fringes of society. Working outside fine art "system" (schools, galleries, museums and so on), these people have produced, from the depths of their own personalities and for themselves and no one else, works of outstanding originality in concept, subject and techniques. They are works which owe nothing to tradition or fashion.

http://www.rawvision.com/outsiderart/whatisoa.html

Often, outsider art illustrates extreme mental states, unconventional ideas, or elaborate fantasy world

The Prince of Orange and I, when road-tripping through the Karoo in December, planned to visit Outa Lappies Schoeman an outsider artist who retired in a tiny railway house at Prince Albert Road Station after wandering the Karoo for years pulling a hand-cart.

While overnighting in the nearby picturesque Price Albert we learnt that Outa Lappies passed away in July last year. His house was next to road we were travelling to Williston via Merweville and we decided to go there anyway.

Prince Albert Station is one of the many railway stations scattered through the Karoo and rural South Africa where the trains stopped running a long time ago. The Prince, who is a portfolio manager when he’s not a Symbol, told me that one of his role-models, Warren Buffett, is busy reviving the rail systems in the United States.  Buffet recons this is the way to go with the rising fuel prices to cart freight over long distances. It makes a lot of sense. Large tracts of the South African heartland have become cut-off from the outside world when the rail services were discontinued.

A lot of the Karoo towns have no maniacal mini-bus taxi services or buses transporting passengers. This has a huge impact on job opportunities and the mobility of many of the citizens of the greater Karoo and regular train services will contribute a lot to resuscitate these almost forgotten little villages.  

Prince Albert Station Road only consists of a few houses and it was easy to find Outa Lappies’s home. His famous hand-cart stood abandoned in the neglected overgrown yard. The house was locked but the front gate open with a number of his creations packed next to the cart. We wandered through to have a look and snap some photographs.

Soon after a next-door neighbour, one Frans appeared. Hans told us that Outa Lappies died of burn wounds after his Joseph’s coat of many colours caught fire in front of the house. Frans gave us a graphic account of how he helped dousing the flames. Only Outa’s shoes remained – the rest of his clothes were gone. He suffered bad burn wounds - the old man was taken to hospital where he passed on.

I was surprised that some of Outa Lappies’s creations and his cart were left so unprotected – open to the elements and vandals. Maybe it was my Jozi-psyche acting out – in the City of Gold you lock everything away otherwise its gone-baby-gone in a flash. Frans told us that there were plans afoot to turn the house into a museum. I’ve visited the Owl House in Nieu-Bethesda a couple of years ago which has become a great tourist attraction in another little Karoo hamlet. I see no reason why this can’t happen in Prince Albert Road as well. It’s close to the N3 highway and not far from the town of Prince Albert.

When we left I noticed dusty charred A4 book among the rubbish in the overgrown front garden. Maybe it was scorched in the fire the caused the death of Outa Lappies. I picked it up and stuffed it into my camera bag.

Back in Jozi I did some research on the old man and found out some surprising facts about this character that featured large in the artistic history of the Karoo. He won the 2001 Western Cape Tourism Personality of the Year for instance. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting him and used an article that appeared in the SA Art Times in 2006 titled “Legacy of a loner: Something out of nothing: Jan “Patchman” Schoeman also known as Outa Lappies” as a reference

Jan Schoeman was an obsessive traveling man who set himself the goal of covering “ten thousand miles” on foot. He pulled a hand-made rickshaw, which usually trailed a train of smaller wagons from somewhere to nowhere, wandering where the spirit took him. At night he’ll slept by the road-side and the cart was lit by candles.  This resembled the lights of passing trains.

Along the road he collected discarded objects which he later turned into artworks – mostly lanterns – “lighuisies” – hands and animals assembled from crushed tins, shards of coloured glass, pokerwork, nails, sticks, feathers, whatever.  

Outa Lappies chose to live as a true hermit, sleeping on a concrete floor surrounded by piles of scrap metal and fabric, even when he was home in Prince Albert Road. He created with an almost obsessive zeal, toiling by candlelight late into the night. He saw as his calling to make something out of nothing; creating beautiful and interesting pieces from found items.

The former British Prime Minister Tony Blair’s wife once Cherie Blair received a “lighuisie” as a personal gift. Outa made one for “Baas Tony Glair” (sic) and found somebody to deliver it to No. 10 Downing Street. Cherie Blair’s handwritten thank you note, on heavily embossed official stationery, was apparently somewhere in a pile of dusty papers in his small house.

Whenever he returned to Prince Albert he embroidered maps of his journeys, featuring highlights of his trips. These were known as his “Chapters” recounting his adventures throughout his long and unconventional life: his joys and his hardships while growing up and working on farms, and his nomadic life.

The “Chapters” feature rhyming verses in a misspelled Afrikaans/Dutch/English pidgin, accompanied by characters and landscapes with Outa as the main protagonist: a vibrant embroidered figure in multicoloured patchwork clothing. Although he embroidered some of the work himself, he employed local women to do most of the needlework after drawing his designs and verses on the cloth. He insisted that each craftswoman embroider her initial and surname on the chapter.

Nobody seems to know how many Chapters there are. Most of them he sold to foreign buyers which is a huge loss to South Africa. I cannot find a single image of these works on the internet using Google.

It doesn’t seem as if Outa Lappies was ever recognized as a bona-fide artist in this own country and although Gudrun and Bodo Toelstede, friends of Outa Lappies in Prince Albert, are planning a museum and gallery of his work. For the time being his cart remains standing in front of his little house.

I glanced through the charred book I picked up outside his house the other day. It’s mostly blank with a few pages covered in what must be the old man’s writing. Only one page is dated – 2 July 2011 and seems to be a sort of Last Will and Testament. Jan “Outa” Lappies Schoeman died in 7 July 2011, five days later. Coincidence, precognition? I don’t know.  I phoned Bodo Toelstede who told me that they searched high and low for Outa’s books after his death. Maybe he burned it on the pyre which led to his death. But that is just my over-active imagination at work.

I have since e-mailed a scan of the page to Bodo Toelstede and I’ll pass the book on to him as it forms part of his legacy which will hopefully be safely preserved somewhere sooner than later. 

I hope that the old man’s spirit is still wandering, pulling his cart beneath the star-studded sky of the majestic Karoo at night.

Life’s been happening to me the last couple of months while I was making other plans. There was little time for blogging and I haven’t had a chance to write an update about the completion of the Field of Dreams library and the two additional classrooms at Albert Street School which made 2011 very special for me.

The project was completed towards the end of November 2011 but the funds I could raise were depleted before the classrooms could be painted! I was actually quite surprised that we achieved what we did on a shoe-string budget. In the end Medal Paints sponsored some paint and I black-mailed and begged some READ staff and family members to do the work. We painted the classrooms ourselves one Saturday and the old fireplace was painted a bright yellow – a colour I saw in my minds-eye ever since I saw the sad and sorry ruin.  It is MAGIC what difference a coat of fresh paint makes

The library was officially opened on 3 December 2011 coinciding with the annual school prize giving. Some people who generously contributed took time out to share the celebrations to be at the opening. André Erasmus of Amecon Construction and Shuan Yazbek of Tswane Hardware who between them funded the lion’s share of the construction and shelving were there. So was Lynn Raphaely, representing the Union of Jewish Women. The UJW contributes foodstuffs for the orphan children.

Bishop Paul Verryn was instrumental in the establishment of the school in 2008 and he officially opened the library. The kids, parents and teachers were very appreciative of having one of the best libraries in the inner city at their disposal.

Funny thing is that I never wanted to be acknowledged for the magic – The little School that Can deserves all the help they can get. The results they achieve with so little is pure amazingness and is more than enough of a “thank you”

I’ve had little contact with the school since the opening of the library but the principal, William Kandowe, send me the “O” level final results in mid-January. 16 of the 17 entrants passed the internationally recognized Cambridge exams! That’s 94% - outstanding taking into account the lack of resources and even more so when comparing these results with the rigged and watered down 67% national Grade 12  pass rate.

Professor Jonathan Jansen, Vice Chancellor and Rector of the University of the Free State recently commented on the state of South African Education:

“I would seriously consider not sending my child to school in South Africa, for one simple reason: I do not trust a system that makes it possible for a child to pass Grade 12 with 30% in some subjects and 40% in other subjects. I would be filled with fear when I discover that you can get 32% in mathematics and 27% in physical science and still get an official document that says you can continue to study towards a Bachelor’s degree at university. I would worry myself senseless when I enroll my child in Grade 1 knowing that she could be among the more than half-a-million children who would not make it through to Grade 12. I would be horrified at the possibility that the principal might force her to do mathematical literacy because someone decided she could not do pure mathematics, because it would make the schools pass averages look bad. And I would be angry when I find that she is guaranteed to be among the 96% pass rate for Life Orientation when all the other subjects in the national Senior Certificate have pass rates way below this number.

It is extremely difficult to fail Grade 12 in South Africa today. You have to put in a special effort, miss your classes, deliberately provide wrong answers to questions, and hand in your paper early during an exam session and maybe, just maybe, you will fail.”

Scary Stuff, but as usual Professor Jansen tells it exactly as it is.

Last week I went to Albert Street for the first time this year. I wanted to show a foreign guest who specializes in delivering sustainable curriculum, control and infrastructure enhancements in the education sector in many countries what can be achieved on a wing and a prayer if a school has committed and passionate teachers.

It was early afternoon and most grade classes were still hard at work. In the library the kids were lining up to check out books. The facility has been used since November as an adult learning centre to teach refugees computer skills.  It is hard to believe that this was a ruin twelve months ago.

Talking to the principal I again realized the day to day struggles the school is facing there’s still a huge amount of work and support required as they receive no government grants or support.

-It costs R350 per month to provide tuition to each learner

- It costs R100 per month to buy a train ticket for the learners who stay in Soweto

- It cost R150 a month to provide each of the 140 orphaned learners with one meal a day.

 The two completed classrooms cannot be fully utilized as there are no desks or chairs. Shaun Yazbek of Tshwane Hardware has since delivered 20 refurbished school desks and promised another batch by next week. Sixty chairs are required so I’ll be doing the rounds again to find some funding – about R3 000 is needed for this.

The school is now a registered beneficiary with the Woolworths “My School Programme.” If you shop at Woolworths please add Albert Street as a beneficiary on your School Card:

-You can update your profile on www.myschool.co.za

- You can send an email to cs@myschool.co.za and ask them to Albert Street School as a beneficiary

- Or you can phone the call centre on 0860 100 455

I have long ago realized that my involvement with Albert Street won’t end with the completion  of the library. The old school building still needs to be painted.  There’s the ongoing basic need of the 130 orphaned children including food to be provided for  – The long term commitment of Gastaldi Distributors, the Johannesburg branch of the Union of Jewish Women and the Ornico Group helps to fill their tummies most days.

There’s also the small matter of 16 kids with an excellent schooling that’s struggling to find employment or a way to further their studies.

This includes Hillary Mudziviri who so touching and passionately spoke about his African Dream in July.

http://mrbaggins1.livejournal.com/92326.html

If you would like to sponsor a learner consider making a donation to:

Bank Account:

Name of Account: CMM Deaconess Society - Albert Street School

Bank:                          First National Bank

Branch Name:          RMB Private Bank Johannesburg

Branch Code:           261 251

Account No:             62209247487

The concept of heaven and hell is something that humankind had been speculating and writing about since the beginning of time.  “L'enfer, c'est les autres “ Sartre said. I wholeheartedly agree with Sartre that hell is mostly other people as I’m at best not a social butterfly. It also means that I can use Google because otherwise I wouldn’t have known what the hell he meant  

Some say that this country is going to hell in a hand-cart - Rubbish. It’s the greatest place on earth – but I also know that Hell is in South Africa. It is not some mythical mysterious Hades where the devil hangs out slow-toasting souls like marshmallows speared to his pitchfork over pits of fire ‘n sulfur but an isolated valley in the Swartberg. 

Southern Africa has some magical places and spaces that are a bit off the map. Hidden treasures like The Owl House in Nieu-Bethesda and a little town called Pofadder (Puff Adder) in the far Northern Cape. That town is named after a Koranna Chief, Klaas Pofadder, and not after a snake as I once thought. I’ve already ticked these from my bucket list but the road to Hell I’ve not traveled, until recently.

Towards the end of 2010 The Prince, my ♥ Girls son, and I road tripped through the arid Karoo, driving the back roads and gravel passes sleeping over in isolated small towns. I wanted to get away as far as possible from Jozi before Christmas as I hate the time of year. Call me The Grinch - I don’t mind. I left the planning of this trip to The Prince with one condition – I wanted to go to Hell.

The Hell, or rather “Die Hel” - its proper Afrikaans name - is an isolated valley in the Gamkaskloof deep in the heart of the Swartberg Mountains. The road to Hell branches off from the spectacular 27 kilometer Swartberg Pass.  This pass is an elegant piece of road engineering constructed by Thomas Bain between 1881 and 1888. Bain built 23 South African passes in all but the Swartberg; linking the great Karoo to the coast, was his final masterpiece

Why people originally settled in Die Hel in the 1830’s only the devil knows. Some say that the valley appealed to trekboere chafing under British rule. They sought an autonomous life far away from law, regulations and taxes. The more probable story however is that the valley was discovered when farmers followed their cattle that strayed along the Gamka River into this isolated and fertile backwater.

Die Hel was cut-off from the outside world until 1962, only accessible on foot or on horseback through the narrow river gorge and over steep mountains. Strangely enough the first motor vehicle, a Morris, was carried over the rugged terrain into the valley in the late 1950’s. I wonder what fuel it used, peach-brandy most probably because it must have been almost impossible to transport petrol into the place. And for what purpose? It’s not like you can pop into the nearby town for a visit or a movie with the love of your live sitting next to you with the wind blowing through her hair. But I suppose residents of Hel are slightly err….. strange?  Telephones were only installed in 1965, nearly 80 years after a telecommunication system was introduced into the rest of South Africa.

A proper gravel road was finally built in 1962 almost single-handedly by a Koos Van Zyl with a bulldozer. Old Koos definitely didn’t have the finesse of Bain. He must have been a very brave individual or high on witblits and those good herbs that I’m sure grow deep in the mountains

His road ain’t a symphony but a Sid Vicious and the Sex Pistols punk-rock anthem. It jars, clatters and screams – zigzagging up and down the mountains, ridiculously convoluted. Even the hairpin bends have hairpins in!

When the Prince and I stopped at the road-sign at the turnoff I read; “Die Hel – 50 kilometers = 2 hours”  No way Josè, I though, I’ve driven the busiest highway in South Africa, the one between Jozi & Pretoria for years through sun, sleet, rain, hail, fire, frost, rape, pillage  and major pile-ups. That’s about 50 kilos. Two hours? Never.

But the devil knows better. The journey took more than two hours –  tipsy-toeing along a narrow strip of road hugging the mountainside with no barriers to stop a vehicle plunging down some dark and dusty abyss. At stages we had to back up to allow oncoming traffic to pass perilously close to the edge. There is no way in hell that I will drive The Road to Hell at night or when it rains. I also gained a lot of respect for The Prince’s Subaru Forrester. I thought it was a real pussy of a 4x4 but it was much nimbler and lighter than the big bakkies and Landrovers which struggled around the really tight hairpins.

Two hours later we ended up in the middle of…..nowhere. Die Hel was almost deserted.

Ironically the opening of the road in 1962 almost emptied Gamkaskloof. Severe drought over the years, the lure of the neighbouring towns like Prince Albert and Calitzdorp, with churches, schools and entertainment took its toll on the isolated valley’s population. By the 1980s, many farms that  remained in the hands of the same family for decades were sold. Farm after farm were abandoned.

Annetjie Joubert is the last born and bred resident of Die Hel. We read about her in the wonderful "Karoo Keepsakes", http://karoospace.co.za/trading-post/karoo-keepsakes, which is a great reference should you plan a road-trip into this wonderful part of the country. When we at last stopped at the little shop and “restaurant” at the end of the road we asked for Annetjie but she wasn’t around.

After exploring the little bit of hell worth exploring we thought we’ll have something to eat before attempting the journey back along the same road. “Have you booked?” the lady in attendance asked. “If not all we have is freshly baked bread and jam.” Served us right not booking our space in hell.

So after that scrumptious meal we traveled on to Williston. I’m sure I passed the wreck on that old Morris on the way out. The only evidence I have that I’ve been to Hell and Back is a cap and a bumper sticker.

It’s still a place worth visiting, but book first if you want a proper meal. It’s really in the middle of nowhere and you do get there slowly!

I’ve ticked another box on the bucket list – the next ones are the ghost towns of Kolmanskop and Elizabeth Bay in the Sperrgebiet close to Luderitz in the Namib Desert. That can be another  road-trip of note. Interestingly someone mentioned “carefully maintained decay” about these deserted desert towns which must have been visited by hundreds of people since the ghosts moved in. Makes one think doesn’t it. Like Gold Reef City in the middle of the desert to some extent maybe.

I’ve tracked down this YouTube that gives one some sense of what Old Koos van Zyl’s road looks like. There’s even a humongous rock next to the road named after him.

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can’t see.
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
‘Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Maya Angelou

All women are beautiful, some more beautiful than others – I stole this from http://thesensualstarfish.tumblr.com/post/12735299429 - I couldn’t resist

I’m Bach. It’s been ages since I last blogged but I don’t think anyone missed me that much. It’s better to do than to write about doing I suppose.  I spend most of my free time the last couple of months on the Field of Dreams Library and Albert Street School. 

Magic happened since July when I last wrote about what started as a Mandela Day commitment for me.

The library is done. The refurbishment completed by Amecon and shelving installed by Tswane Hardware. Without André from Amecon and Shaun from Tswane Hardware this would have remained a dream as they carried the lion’s share of the work and cost to establish the library. The books donated by various publishers and those the school already had collected and kept in a leaky storeroom had been sorted and shelved. Jonathan the librarian is busy with the cataloguing.

BEFORE AND AFTER

Albert Street now has one of the best libraries compared to those of other inner city schools. Great stuff – these kids deserve something special.

When I originally became involved with Albert Street in August 2010 the dream was to establish a library, but as I walked the road with the educators’ and the children I realized that this was only the tip of an iceberg.

Reality is a struggling school of some 350 learners with committed teachers working miracles against impossible odds with almost no teaching resources. Their salaries are usually months in arrears due to lack of funding – yet they keep on teaching. There are 140 orphaned children who lives a hand-to-mouth existence not knowing where they’re next meal will be coming from. “The situation is dire” Bishop Paul Verryn said a while ago when I asked him what gives.  

The food situation has since improved, but is still not completely sorted as it is difficult to source adequate and steady food supply on a long term basis. With the assistance of Gastaldi Distributors, who donates fruit and vegetables once a week and the Union of Jewish women’s that donates rice, tea and peanut butter the situation has improved. Oresti Patricios, CEO of the Ornico Group, and part-time driver and handyman at Odd Café, send me and unsolicited e-mail offering to donate funding for 300 kg’s of maize meal per month which is the staple diet of these orphaned children. Did I mention that magic happens?

Albert Street School does not have sufficient classrooms. Some learners attend classes in the afternoon as there are not enough classrooms to accommodate all the children in the morning. Obviously this places additional strain on the educators.

Millslitho & First Rand Volunteers donated further funding and this is being utilized to build two additional classrooms. I’ve been doing this on a sub-contract basis and as everyone who’s played around with owner-building knows it can become a time consuming and frustrating affair. No wonder I couldn’t blog! The classrooms are nearly completed.

Medal Paints is donating some paint which will be used for the new classrooms and whatever is left over will brighten up the main building that hasn’t been painted in fifty years.

Rasty & Curio of Pressure Control Projects has nearly completed a beautiful mural. This adds colour and vibrancy to what used to be a bland, blank wall. I remember a protracted confrontational issue I had in 2010 with The Village People about the merit of street art within an educational environment. Suffice to say that life has moved on since then with street art gaining more and more credibility with more and more people recognizing its positive role in society.    

It is amazing what had been achieved with the help of a few good people who was prepared to make a simple idea a reality. The job is not done. There is still a lot to do at Albert Street and other inner city schools.

Quality education is the key to the healthy growth and future of the inner city and I’m sure that Albert Street will serve as a model of what can be achieved with commitment and dreaming dreams into reality.

The library will be officially opened on 3 December 2011.

The clips below illustrate the plight of refugee children and their journey to Jozi and also an interview with William Kandowe, Albert Street’s principal filmed in the library.

On the corner of Napier Road and Barry Hertzog Avenue in Richmond, Jozi, is an overgrown rubbish-strewn piece of open ground.  Not many people speeding down the busy Barry Hertzog knows that this used to be where the Rand Steam Laundries, Cleaning and Dyeing works operated from 1902 for more than half a century. Three years ago the Imperial Group controversially demolished the buildings ignoring the fact that they were protected by the National Heritage Resources Act.

At that time Flo Bird of the Parktown and Westcliff Heritage Trust brought it to Imperial’s attention that the structures were protected but the company went ahead with the demolition anyway.

In Flo’s words, who witnessed the destruction - “There was a mechanical grab smashing the buildings to smithereens. Several large laundry buildings, two of the oldest on the site, already lay in small pieces. The grab hauled the masonry smashed it to the ground and then drove back and forwards crushing it. Any metal piece that survived that treatment was lifted in the air and crashed down until it crumpled. It was horrifying. Clearly the instruction was to destroy the buildings completely.”

The grab pulled over the walls then drove back and forth across the rubble crushing the bricks, splintering the Oregon pine and twisting any metal in its path. Whatever survived was lifted and dashed down repeatedly until it too was crumpled and useless.

Well done Imperial.

The group’s original intention was to erect a car dealership. This never happened, due to the down-turn in motor-sales I suppose. Serve them right. I drive home along Napier Road often and noticed activity on the site recently. It transpired that Imperial is turning it into a parking lot for Lancet Laboratories. Goodness greatness. Imperial seems to have again “forgotten” that they can’t do this without applying for rezoning. 

Great stuff guys, this is really adding insult to injury.

I’ve been in Jozi for the last ten years and have fond memories of the quaint old buildings that used to live here. The original laundry closed in 1962 and since then it has been utilized by various craftsmen as workshops, offices and storerooms. There was even an antique shop, “The Mixer”, and an art gallery on the site.

Salim ran his upholstery business from here - he restored and upholstered chairs for our house. Henri, who restores antique furniture, also had his workshop at the Laundry. He altered a huge old shop counter into a kitchen unit for me. I loved visiting the place rummaging through old furniture trying to find something of value. “Die Ossewa” the well-known antique dealers in Melville, also had a warehouse at there that I went to on a number of occasions, especially when they unpacked a new consignment of furniture and artecrafts from South America or Europe.  

The Laundry was a hive of activity – corrugated iron and brick structures supported by thick beautiful Oregon pine beams with a rich lustrous patina that only comes with time. There were also water towers and a row of cottages and a huge complex of buildings on the Park Road side that used to be either a residential hotel or a residence for employees.  All these buildings were was used as workshops in later years.  

I said to ♥ Girl at that time that the old complex had so much character, with existing with artists and artisans already using the space, that it can easily be turned into a vibey precinct, similar to 44 Stanley Avenue. It was long before the Maboneng Precinct, Arts on Main and Main Street Life, on the other side of the city was developed.

But Imperial had other plans; the Laundry was demolished almost overnight and is now earmarked as a “temporary” parking lot according to Thando Sishuba, the head of Imperial Properties. But Houston, we have a problem.

“The first issue is that Imperial will have to have the site rezoned for business before any work is done. At present it is zoned residential, obtained by the previous owners who had permission to erect a 17-storey block of flats. It would be illegal for Imperial to use the site for business without it first being rezoned” according to Flo Bird.

In the long term Imperial will be required to re-instate the buildings it demolished which is a condition of the rezoning.

Sishuba says that “for the future re-development of the site, which will be mixed use, he is ideally looking at finding an anchor office tenant, with retail tenants along Napier Road, he explains.

“We would consider a major retailer as well as a combination of smaller businesses like coffee shops, bookshops or dry cleaners – anyone who would lend credibility and credence to the area. We want a 24-hour city feel, a bit of a vibe.”

He stresses that Imperial is keen to undo any distress its 2008 demolition caused. “We are working hard to reverse whatever damage was done. We want the entire city of Johannesburg to be proud of what we do. We are doing everything acceptable to abide by the normal statutory processes.”

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Flo Bird states on the Johannesburg City’s website that “She is not insisting that Imperial replace the original Oregon pine, which would be difficult and expensive to obtain” I have the greatest respect for Flo and the work the Parktown and Westcliff Heritage Trust but as far as I am concerned I don’t give a sorry shit – Imperial allowed the original beams to be willfully destroyed by driving over them with heavy earthmoving equipment. You break ‘em you replace ‘em - whatever the cost.

Neil Fraser wrote about the amazing history of the laundry in his CitiChat Column in January 2008 quoting in turn from Charles van Onselen’s  Studies in the Social and Economic History of the Witwatersrand 1886-1914 – ‘New Nineveh’

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  “The South African transition to capitalism – like that elsewhere - was fraught with contradictions and conflicts and its cities were thus capable of opening as well as closing economic avenues, and there certainly was always more than one route into or out of the working class”.

One chapter that exemplifies this statement and provides amazing detail of this transition is that on the ‘AmaWasha’ – the Zulu washermen’s guild of the Witwatersrand.

The AmaWasha emerged in the early 1870s in Natal through the lowly washermen’s caste of ‘Dhobis’ who had emigrated to Natal and started practicing their traditional profession – “the commercial washing of clothes”. Local Zulus were quick to recognise the chance to also earn an income from such work and seized on the opportunity that the discovery of gold on the Witwatersrand presented and service’s needs.

By 1890 there were already a couple of hundred AmaWasha, who had even adopted the ‘Dhobi’ turban, at work in the Braamfontein Spruit to the north of the mining camp. By 1896 there were over 1 200 washermen located at eight or more sites, the bulk of which appeared to have been concentrated in the Richmond area which was “by far the best developed of the sites….the owners provided eight wood and iron structures to accommodate some of the washermen and a small building in which the laundry could be safely stored overnight.”

In October 1895, the washing sites were closed by health inspectors following a drought in that year that basically resulted in contamination of the work places

The Auckland Park Steam Laundry Company was floated in June 1896 “with a registered capital of 12 500” (pounds Sterling).  This was situated on the Richmond Estate, the centre of former AmaWasha activities.

Rand Steam Laundries and Cleaning and Dyeing Works came into existence in July 1902 on the site and became the biggest laundry operation in South Africa. The Union Castle shipping line sent its laundry to them every week by rail. The laundry closed in 1962 and since then, the property has been used by a number of light industrial companies.

Frasers commented as follows about Imperial’s demolition of the buildings on this historical site

“It seems to me that a seemingly deliberate and premeditated breaking of the law needs the whole book thrown at it. The previous heritage structures must be rebuilt and the story of AmaWasha and the mining town they serviced must be told and portrayed so that “it may be bequeathed to future generations” – the cottages can once again house the craft shops and the site should be turned into an active place for the community. The story of the perfidy of Imperial and the punishment meted out to them in terms of legislation should also be encapsulated so that everyone becomes aware of the law and the consequences of arrogance in disregarding it. Anything less would be a travesty.”

And pigs can fly, the last time I looked. Whatever happens, the historical feel of time and place is lost forever due to the callous disregard of the Imperial Group for the law and irresponsible corporate governance.

All that now remains, for the foreseeable future, is a temporary parking lot.