The story behind the 50/50 exposé of community co-option by mining interests on the Wild Coast

By John GI Clarke

“We haven’t had this much rain ever in Pondoland before. ‘Why is this?’ people are asking. People have noticed that it is since the mining company has come to the area that all this rain has come, which is now too much for us. People are saying that it is because the mining company is disturbing the earth, the animal inside the earth has been upset, and is sending all this rain. My people believe, and I believe too, that all this rain is falling because the earth animal is angry with the disturbance of the earth by the mining company.”

 

This explanation of abnormal climatic conditions was offered by a wise old induna Mr George Cilo, from the Amadiba Tribal Authority on the Pondoland Wild Coast, during a meeting of community leaders that had gathered to express their concerns to a television film crew from the SABC environmental program 50/50. Representatives from all significant sectors (health, churches, traditional authority, ANC youth, ANC Veterans, Business, etc) were huddled in the Baleni Senior Secondary School library, hoping to at last have their grievances, complaints and frustrations broadcast to a wider audience beyond the rutted roads and muddy dongas that isolated them from civil services and support.

One of the Baleni’s proud sons, Sinegugu Zukulu had invited us to see for ourselves the difficulties that constrained learners and teachers. It was here that Sinegugu matriculated, before leaving for university and a promising teaching career, including nine years teaching at Kearsney College, an elite private school near Durban. He had recently resigned from that job to return to his ancestral home to work for the educational improvement of his people, anxious that others might be given the same start in life that he got.

Besides the subterranean beast which the Induna feared, other more tangible animals expressed interest in our visit. Several horses were grazing in the school grounds just outside the room, having carried some riders (including the headmaster who had to leave his car parked some distance away) to the meeting as the only feasible means of transportation given the appalling condition of the roads. The moment that our interpreter had translated the Induna’s comment, the headmasters’ horse erupted with a loud whinny, startling the gathering, as if to endorse his diagnosis of the unhealthy state of affairs.

For all his apparent lack of scientific precision the Induna’s conviction (together with its equine encore) paradoxically lent authenticity to the meeting. This was not simply a pre-rehearsed media conference to lobby public sympathy. This was an opportunity for new consciousness to emerge. Perhaps a time of revelation: a moment of grace as Thomas Berry, the Catholic monk and ‘geologian’ would put it.

The Local is the Global: The Personal is the Political

The Induna’s intuitive discernment of the connection between human interference with the earth and abnormal precipitation from the heavens animated two ‘rivers’ of thought, flowing in opposite yet complementary directions, yet making their way to the same ocean. ‘Think Globally: Act Locally’- the mantra of environmentalists, bubbled up from its sublime sleep in my head, stirred to life by the idea of an ‘animal in the earth’. From ‘behind the scenes’ I sat observing the interaction between people and camera - the ‘one eyed beast’ - as it panned around the room capturing images that would bring Sunday evening 50/50 viewers into the Baleni Senior Secondary School library, without the inconvenience of having to do the challenging 4×4 obstacle course, or having to seek help from a horse.

When Sandra, the producer, was satisfied that she had got enough footage for the 50/50 report and put the technological ‘beast’ back in its cage, I asked the group if I may address them, so that Sinegugu and I could clarify our interest and purpose in bringing the TV crew to Baleni.

Here is an edited version of what ‘the animal in the earth’ prompted me to say.

Five years ago my family and I had found ourselves enjoying for the first time in our lives, the cultural richness of the amaMpondo people and the scenic splendour of the Wild Coast as eco-tourists riding a four day horse trail with Amadiba Adventures. The memorable experience had a very significant impact on our family life, not only because of the fond memories we cherish of the experience, but because it introduced us to the joys of horse riding and a love for horses. We returned nine months later with another family: close friends who were eager to also experience the excitement we had.

Our trail leader and guide was a young man Mzamo Dlamini. He taught us something about horses that has become a parable for understanding what we mean when we talk about humans having a ‘sustainable relationship’ with the natural world.

On our return from a wonderfully happy time at Mntentu Estuary, my friend challenged me to a horse race across an open stretch of beach. We spurred our mounts into a gallop to see who would reach an outcrop of rocks about 500 metres away. Our trusting horses obediently complied and before we knew it we were at the rocks, narrowly avoiding riding headlong into them. I think I won, but it wasn’t a happy victory, because, when Mzamo and the rest of the group caught up with us, the permanent smile on his face was gone. He took us aside and scolded us for our recklessness.

“Don’t you know that horses cannot see straight ahead of them” he said “and you could have injured them - and yourselves”.

He went on to explain that the eyes of a horse are positioned on either side of their heads so they can watch for predators while grazing. This gives them the ability to see both left and right, but that there is approximately 35^o angle ‘blind spot’ ahead of them. “Horses trust the human on their back, for forward vision. A horse will obediently ride straight over a cliff if that is where the rider directs it.”

I thanked the people gathered for producing a young man of such wisdom, and went on to explain my motives in coming back to Pondoland.

“When the headmasters’ horse applauded the Induna’s comments earlier, it reminded me of Mzamo’s teaching. But I think there is a deeper lesson we need to learn. A horse and a human rider together have four eyes. As a unit they can see almost all around. The only ‘blind spot’ is an angle of about 30 degrees behind the horse, at the riders back.”

“My deep fear, is that the people interested in mining at Xolobeni are coming to ‘ride on the back’ of the Amadiba community, and that the direction they are steering you toward is dangerous. As a social worker I am expected to challenge injustice and exploitation, and to seek always the best interests of the most vulnerable members of society. It is to ensure access to information and services, and to promote understanding and insight about the social problems people experience. Looking back, it seems to me that wherever there is much money to be made – especially from mining operations and large construction projects - those people who stand to make the most money simply don’t really care what happens, either to vulnerable people living on the land, or to the environment – the earth, water, plants and animals- in the long term.”

“Sinegugu asked me to bring the TV cameras to see the hardship you have to bear. From what I have seen and heard, I am now excited again that the wonderful blessings that my family and I experienced five years ago can be experienced by other people. I told many people about the Amadiba Adventures horse trail, and they also came to spend money in this area. I live in Johannesburg, and work closely with friends in Soweto to bring foreign tourists to visit Soweto. I believe those same tourists would love to also come to the Wild Coast and spend money here.

When I return again, if you wish me to, I would like to bring with me more of my friends to learn from the wisdom of the AmaMpondo people. To learn from people like Mzamo, and the Induna.”

Circumstances then conspired to separate me from the TV crew.

Fuel, but no Food for Thought.

I had underestimated my fuel needs because the appalling road conditions compelled me to engage 4 wheel drive most of the way. The nearest filling station was 2 hours drive away, and I couldn’t imagine the AA showing much enthusiasm to come and rescue me. But the kindly headmaster, Mr Msabane had a reserve of some diesel fuel to help me out. So sparing his horse the burden of having to carrying him back to his car, I gave Mr Msabane a lift and then followed him to his homestead. Then I realised that I had no cash on me! (my Garage card was useless in such circumstances). “No problem” he said. I could pay him later when I had money. Besides the 20 litres of diesel added to the tank, he threw in four sticks of sugar cane as a gift, and went off on other business, leaving me alone to contemplate the dramatic experiences of the morning.

While waiting for the TV crew to meet up with me, I was left alone in the peaceful rural setting for a few hours to sort out my jumbled thoughts and emotions – to “fast and pray”. The ‘fast’ was an involuntary one, as our lunch was in the other vehicle (and one can only eat so much sugar cane!), but the ‘prayer’ was intentional for I was feeling intellectually troubled, physically scared and emotionally anxious – always good incentives to pray, even for those not habitually given to such
.

I was troubled, because, for all the apparent superstitious character of the Induna’s warning, it was in its own way, strangely prophetic. OK, he may have got it wrong in terms of connecting the local events of ‘mining’ and ‘rainfall’ too directly, and, yes he may have used the language of religion and myth rather than scientific vocabulary, but the essential truth of what he was saying could not be denied. It is the same “inconvenient truth” that Al Gore is trying to tell the world. The extreme weather events, which the elderly Induna had noticed as unparalleled in his lifetime, were due to global warming. Global warming happens because the earths’ natural carbon cycle has been abnormally accelerated and intensified by carbon emissions from fuel derived from fossils (veritable animals in the earth) taken from the earths crust. Left to run its natural course, the carbon cycle normally takes millions of years to revolve, since it involves subduction of organic matter by the complex dynamics of tectonic plate movements into the earths crust. Human energy demands have accelerated this process to what amounts to nano-seconds in geological time horizons. The ‘sustainable use’ of fossil fuels means that we only use them up at the same rate that it takes the earths geological systems to create them. I started wondering how long nature had taken to create the 20 litres of ‘fossil fuel’ that the Mr Msabane had generously supplied to me, content to wait for payment. How much did it really cost for nature to produce? How much will our children have to pay for our extravagance? These were the thoughts that troubled me.

I was scared, because I wondered if I had overstepped the mark with my impulsive speech earlier, and was courting reprisals from those who had already sold out to the mining companies’ ambitions. But my fear was more a matter of fearing that they feared me. After all, who was I to judge them if they had accepted the lures and enticements of already rich people bearing expensive gifts, if it promised them some relief from hardships endured? Moral responsibility ultimately rested with those remote interests, far away, who really couldn’t care less about what happened to others or the environment, so long as they could get their ‘fix’. Even so, my social worker training had taught me to always have a non-judgemental attitude to people with addictions and dependencies, whether to alcohol and drugs or to fossil fuels and precious metals- to promote insight.

I was anxious because I was beginning to doubt how I might possibly match my ‘walk’ with my ‘talk’. On the spur of the moment, I had raised expectations. What possible influence does a ‘stale, pale male’ have, desperately trying to extend his shelf life in the New South Africa?

Moreover, although social workers are professionally obliged to intervene to help vulnerable members of communities, the dividing line between ‘intervention’ and ‘interference’ is as ambiguous as the line between activism and advocacy: it all depends who is drawing it. Certain powers were not going to like what I had said, and have deep pockets to fight legal battles. I have nothing but my mixed reputation and professional indemnity insurance to rely on, if they deemed it worth taking a shot at charging me for “unprofessional conduct”. This is what Anglo Platinum had tried (unsuccessfully as it happens) to rob my close friend Richard Spoor of his professional mandate as an attorney, simply because he tried to hold them accountable to rural communities blessed/cursed with valuable minerals under their land and villages.

Thomas Berry argues that the Earth is our primary revelation. Another theologian – a protestant- Eugene Peterson concurs. “Theology divorced from geography gets us into nothing but trouble”. ‘Better the trouble caused by canny lawyers than that’, I thought. Perhaps when the crowd falls silent the ‘rocks, stones and animals in the earth’, will be heard more audibly.

Eventually the camera crew found me again, breaking my fast, my reverie and bringing answers to at least some of my prayers.

Sowing the Seeds for the Future.

Mr Zamile Qunya, the Chairman of the ACCODA Trust, which stood accused of betraying the community’s trust, had called to say he would consider granting an interview, provided the community leaders gave him a mandate. We were to report to the Xolobeni Community Hall the next day.

Before the sun rose over the beautiful Mntentu estuary, we hastily packed up and headed for the appointed venue.

Mr Qunya courteously greeted us, but asked us to wait outside so that he could consult the gathering of community leaders to get a mandate. While we waited I noticed two women tilling the soil in the field below. Behind them a red umbrella shaded a bundle of blankets. Separating from the TV crew again, Sinegugu and I approached the women and asked if they would mind having their photo taken.

They happily agreed, and with broad smiles posed.

“Nkosikasi, am I correct in thinking that you have a baby sleeping under that red umbrella?” I asked.

The smile got even broader. “Yes Numsane, that is my baby girl. She is now three weeks old”.

Proudly she unwrapped the bundle to show us her baby, sleeping peacefully in the field that her mother was busy tilling, so that maize could be planted, and harvested when she was old enough to be weaned.

We returned to the TV crew excited that at least something newsworthy had happened, but finding Sandra and Richard in some consternation. Mr Qunya claimed that the gathering of men had unanimously decided that “since we had not got their permission to talk to people in the community, they refused to grant us an interview with him.” They were told that they were not welcome, and told to leave.

We left, spurred on by Sinegugu who became anxious when he noticed a notorious taxi operator and warlord, driving nearby.

But, in the midst of the fear, anxiety and troubled thought, there are now at least seven people from the Amadiba Tribal Authority with whom I now have some form of relationship who give me hope. Hope, understood as believing in spite of the evidence, and then watching the evidence change” which another obviously less acquisitive and more spiritual Australian friend had shared with me ten years ago.

Mzamo Dlamini (pictured left with friends Zeka Mnyamana and Nonhle Mbutuma), my first horse riding instructor, who was in fact present in that meeting. He had appealed for a different attitude, concerned that there were ‘other eyes’ that could help them see what ‘rocks’ lay ahead.

 

 

 

 

Elias Oglethe fearless leader of the families displaced by the corrupt deal struck by Sol Kerzner and Kaiser Matanzima to make way for the Wild Coast Casino. He proudly drives

 

his rusty old Cortina bakkie, with a clear conscience that he paid for it himself, and refuses to be placated by money. “Our ancestors are buried somewhere under these greens and fairways that rich people play golf on. The land is not for sale. We want it back” he told me.

 

 

Sinegugu Zukulu, who has now become my friend and educator, because he teaches me what I need to learn, not what he needs to teach. I wish I had sent my son to Kearsney College to be taught by him too.

 

 

 

Basheen Qunya, the younger brother of Zamile. He had angrily confronted us on the first day while we were interviewing teachers from another school, close to his home. Sandra had invited him to speak his concerns on camera, which he did. He gave a less than

 

convincing account of himself, as the program shows. But to his credit he was hampered somewhat by having his three year old son in tow, who showed scant respect for the ‘one eyed beast’ and did what three year olds habitually do, providing unwelcome sound effects to interfere with Sandra’s professional standards of filming. Since we were surplus to requirements for the filming, Sinegugu and I were charged with the responsibility babysitting Basheen’s child, out of earshot of the TV crew. The child’s presence put a different gloss on what we were doing, compelling us to transcend our hostility, and Basheen showed himself as human as the rest of us, and as concerned for his sons future as any other father would be. I believe he is as much a victim of the Australian Mining Companies manipulation, as everyone else, and placed in an impossible situation.

Mr Msabane, the kindly headmaster, who saved me from running out of my addictive dependence on fossil fuel, and by giving me sugar cane, a material exchange of something from the earth, that grounded our relationship in ubuntu.

 

Mrs Mthwa and her older daughter tilling the field, hoping the ‘animal in the earth’ would be pacified by their care and tenderness toward the earth, and send them a good harvest.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The three week old infant, born into this spectacular rural setting: sleeping peacefully in the tilled fields, beautiful and still innocent to the history that she will inherit.

What history will she inherit? Will she know the truth? Will Mr Msabane and Baleni Senior Secondary School be able to serve her as it served Sinegugu? Will she be allowed to tell us her truth too? A truth perhaps whispered to her by the ‘animal in the earth’ as she lay sleeping in a tilled furrow.

 Download as PDF: The Animal in the Earth.pdf

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John G.I. Clarke is a professional social worker, development consultant and freelance writer focusing on the interconnection between environmental, humanitarian and public health concerns in Africa. He is currently facilitating the organisational development of Sustaining the Wild Coast Association, and the Southern African Faith Communities Environment Institute, with Bishop Goeff Davies

Email: johngic@iafrica.com

 

Tel: 083 608 0944

 

Connecting People. Managing Ideas. Choosing Life.

Posted on April 17th, 2007
Filed under: Articles