Of Springs and things

This morning we wake up in Springs, which given that it’s a bleak Johannesburg day, might not be the best place in the world to wake up (apologies to any Spring-ites out there!). The sunlight is weak and watery, it’s vrek-koud, the veld is dry-brown, the trees are bare and there’s a layer of morning frost on the grass. There’s also a smudgy brown layer of smog that makes me want to hold my breath and not think that I’m breathing ‘this’ in. I find myself already missing the open space of Limpopo with its African bushveld.

We’re on our way to Tsakane township and Mark’s GPS is giving us gyp. It’s telling us to turn left and there is no left. Instead there’s just an open veld, some stray dogs and a lone taxi. Given that this is Jo’burg and we’re in a bakkie loaded with camera equipment I’m already feeling a bit jittery, but it’s all cool and the taxi driver re-directs us to Ext 11. (I’m reminded again of my South African hyper-vigilance which seems at odds with the normalcy of township life around me, people sweeping in front of their homes, walking to work, taxi’s stopping to drop off commuters, shop-owners opening up spaza shops, hanging up bags of naartjies… )

Whilst Tsakane township isn’t as poor as rural Umbumbulu in KZN (where we visited Gogo Mkhize living in her mud house. Read Fresh and Good.), it’s also not a wealthy suburb lined with leafy green trees and neat sidewalks. Peri-urban communities like this often struggle to cope with the sheer density of people per m² and the resources that take strain are sewerage and refuse removal, access to clean running water and electricity. This in turn leads to other social problems, so supporting development in these communities definitely forms part of the scope of the Old Mutual Foundation.

Nozipho Mbanjwa of Umlambo Foundation speaks with passion about transforming one school at a time.

Buhle Bemfundo is the school we’re visiting this morning, which I think is a great name for a school because it means ‘Beauty of Knowledge’!  The reason we’ve chosen this particular project today is that experience has shown that throwing resources at a school will not improve results; however developing strong leadership skills and management systems will.

So in 2009, in partnership with the Umlambo Foundation, the Old Mutual Foundation funded 16 principals from selected schools to complete their Advanced Certificate Education (ACE) training. Whilst undergoing their training, these principals also were linked in with retired schoolmasters as mentors. The improvements for Buhle Bemfundo have been impressive:

2007 – 31% matric pass rate (410 Grade 12 pupils)
2008 – 46% matric pass rate (370 Grade 12 pupils)
2009 – 48% matric pass rate (310 Grade 12 pupils)
2010 – 82,7% matric pass rate (220 Grade 12 pupils)

Buhle Bemfundo school principal, Mr Mononyane has turned around the previously poor results of this township school. Now the school has a strong management systems in place and works closely with the parents and local community.

School principal, Mr Monoyane was appointed in Jan 2008 to transform the school and completed his ACE in 2010.  “My task was to bring change,” he says emphatically, “the school was in tatters, there was no stationery, no timetables, no classes were running.” He ticks off each finger, firing points like bullets…

“We immediately set up time-tables. Classes had to commence.
We brought in the police to assist with drug trafficking in the school.
We called in the mother’s union in the area.
We started building the SCG (School Governing Body consisting of parents and educators).
Every morning at 6.45am I was at that gate. When the children saw me, they learnt they’d better run to class. They must think, ‘Here’s comes that soldier, this man means what he says!’”

I’m riveted by his passion. The bullets continue, “Late coming I don’t like. Smoking I don’t like. Being in class I like. Reading books I like.”

“I’m a man who likes to talk,” he continues, I nod unable to disagree, “but what point is there to a conversation if we’re not talking education?” I ask him why education is his passion. Born in 1961, he was 15 years old at the time of the 1976 Soweto school riots. “So I’ve struggled for my education,” he explains, “but my modus operandi now is that I’m no longer that person who fought; now I’m a person who loves.”

I’m glad to know that there’s someone so passionate leading this school, but we both acknowledge that the challenge is now to maintain and improve these result. Later that morning, I hear a soaring operatic tenor coming from across the courtyard. It’s Mr Mononyane singing Happy Birthday to a staff member. There’s a table set out with food, he has a chicken wing in one hand and is about to tuck into some birthday cake. He grins. I grin. It’s time for us to go.  

Driving across Johannesburg at lunch hour is not fun. The midday June temperature has climbed, the traffic is heavy, there seem to be tolls every 5km, so we’re feeling a bit knackered and city-stressed (or I am at least) when we arrive at our next project. But Waste2Wow is like stepping into a colour explosion that is instantly refreshing. It’s like sitting under a psychedelic waterfall that makes you want to jump around and be naughty and I laugh, because I can see it's having the same impact on Mark and Tim, they’ve start hustling around, spontaneously energized, cameras rolling.

The Waste2Wow team, headed up by Maryka Kellerman. Used advertising billboards are processed and transformed into a range of funky bags, furniture and functional fashionwear

The reason that we’re here is that Waste2Wow is a successful beneficiary of the Old Mutual Legends programme which is funded by the Old Mutual Foundation. Legends is a programme run in partnership with Fetola, to develop small businesses and emerging entrepreneurs into sustainable enterprises.

This is one couch that is guaranteed to rock your world!

Legends has assisted this innovative non-profit organization develop into a healthy small business manufacturing practical, trendy products from recycled advertising billboards and other material. I’m fascinated, I didn’t know billboards were made from heavy-duty, environmentally-unfriendly PVC, and it’s certainly never occurred to me to even wonder what companies did with their used billboards? But here was a fantastic way to get double value out of an advertising budget, by creating funky company products out of used company billboards – and you’ve got the green factor going for you as well.

I immediately boost their sales for the day by purchasing a host of bags for myself, between Mark taking photographs and Tim videoing the crew at work. We decide that instead of featuring only one person, this time we want everyone in on the action, so we overload the image with people and colour and bags and stuff. It’s all lekker! 

By now, we’re moeg and klaar, and it’s time to head home to our guesthouse. It’s an odd evening, because it’s the last one of our road trip. The three of us have talked about this in the car during the day, it’s going to feel odd going back to normal life; we’ve been in each other’s company for days on end and been on the go 24/7.


Over dinner Tim clears his throat and says that he and Mark have been chatting, they feel that seeing as I’ve been writing for the duration of the road trip, they’d like to reserve the right to write The Last Road Trip Blog. I agree, they’ve both been incredibly tolerant with me writing about them.
“You’ve become quintessential characters to the blog,” I exclaim.
“Ja,” Mark says, “just like Beavis & Butthead.”
They turn to each and ask simultaneously, “So who’s Butthead?”
We pack up laughing. I’m going to miss this.

Children are our future

There’s a song by George Benson that starts with the words,
“I believe the children are our future
Teach them well and let them lead the way
Show them all the beauty they possess inside
Give them a sense of pride to make it easier
Let the children's laughter remind us of how it used to be…”

This morning Mark, Tim and I walk into a sea of faces, each curious and shyly staring at us, each scrubbed and shining bright as pennies. It is morning assembly at Dendron Secondary School and the principal, Mr. Matsapola has kept the school behind to introduce us to the school. I am asked to say a few words on behalf of Old Mutual, to which the children all chorus and respond politely. Mark and Tim are moving about getting their shots.  Mr. Matsapola asks the children to sing, which they do at youthful volume.

A few students are called out and I am introduced to Setoaba Kgadi, a young Grade 12 learner, who will be travelling to Ontario, Canada in July to represent South Africa at the International Summer School for Young Physicists. This is the third consecutive year that a learner from Dendron is representing South Africa in this international event. The assembly closes with a hymn, a closing prayer by Mr. Matsapola and then the classes file away one at a time, in orderly fashion, quietly going into their classrooms to start the day. I’m totally impressed!

To give you some background, Dendron Secondary School produces exceptional results, such as Tsakane Ngoepe, the top 2010 Limpopo learner (*read School Days and an Empty Vlei). The reason that this achievement is all the more remarkable is that Dendron is not a former Model C school i.e. it does not have an infrastructure provided during apartheid education era. It does not have a swimming pool, a gymnasium or sports fields. It fact, it does not even have a science laboratory, computers labs or a library. Yet since 2003, this township school with only basic facilities has continued to post results that place it as one of the top ten schools in South Africa, competing against elite private schools.

Mr. Matsapola leads his school with love and disciline. A photo of each of Grade 12 graduate hangs in his office, amidst the glittering array of awards and trophies.

So what’s the secret to its success? How does this school seem to get it right, in light of the education crisis in our country? I pose this question to Mr. Matsapola, the principal of Dendron. The answer is crystal clear to him, hard work, discipline and commitment from all the stakeholders, he emphasizes, the learners, the educators and the parents.

Finding qualified and competent Maths and Science teachers is a challenge and Dendron employs Zimbabwean teachers who can assist in this regard.

(Above) Walking around Dendron during classtime, the school is almost silent with just a murmur here and there. The school seems to exudes a completely focused energy of students hard at work (below).

Good results get attention, and I’m proud to say that the Old Mutual Foundation has played a part in this success story by investing R420000 into this school since 2008. Last year in 2010, an additional amount of R500000 was committed (in partnership with the Limpopo Dept of Education) to finally begin construction on their much-awaited science and computer labs. This year, we sponsored the top science learners and their educators to attend the National Science Festival in Grahamstown.  And of course, it’s all worth it when you see learners of the calibre of Tsakane sitting on the steps of UCT, laughing and fully alive, soaking up each moment of available learning and loving life.     
Sjoe, if I ever had the chance to choose a school that I could’ve gone to, I would’ve chosen a school like Dendron Secondary School. If these children are our future, then it is bright indeed.

It’s time to go, we have a 300km drive ahead of us and another project still to visit this afternoon, so it’s going to be another long day. Travelling south on the N1 from Polokwane towards Pretoria, I catch a glimpse of something, “Stop quick quick,” I lean forward urgently, but Tim has a car sitting on our tail and we can’t pull over. We all turn to see but it’s too late to stop. On a hill overlooking the highway is a simple memorial, sober and sombre. Even that brief glimpse impacted us, frustration because we knew we’d gone passed something powerful that we should’ve been recorded for this journey. On a lone koppie standing amongst the aloes and stones, is a huge hillside cross made up of many small white crosses, with the words “Plaasmoorde” standing starkly against the land. I’d heard about this memorial before but never actually seen it. Erected in 2004, the 1600 crosses each represent a farm murder, the white crosses representing a single murder, the red crosses representing an entire family. It stands in silent ongoing testimony, one of many memorials to the pain of our troubled country.  

We eventually arrive in the late afternoon at Heartbeat in Pretoria.

Info-break: This is another Old Mutual Staff Charity Fund project, but the most well supported one! Approximately 800 Old Mutual staff around the country choose to make a monthly donation (matched by the Old Mutual Foundation) to a support an orphan child who has lost parents to HIV/Aids. In South Africa, child-headed households are a tragic reality; vulnerable young children who’ve lost both parents and have no one to turn to. Heartbeat provides specialist care to these orphans, making sure that they don’t slip through the cracks, that they’re knitted into a system of care and supervision, and have access to material and emotional support. By partnering with Heartbeat, Old Mutual staff can have a personal relationship with the child they support, receiving their photos (many of which are seen stuck up on work cubicles) and are able to support ‘their’ child with provision of items such as toiletries, blankets, school uniforms and food parcels. For staff who wish to get involved, visit: http://groupnet.intranet/om_foundation_payroll_giving.html



We arrive at an after-care centre which assists the orphans with a daily meal, access to counselling and companionship. Later we go to visit two children in their personal home situations. I talk with Mark and Tim about how we’re going to approach this; it’s a sensitive situation and by law we’re required to not identify the children involved (Child Protection Act).

S - is 13 years old. She appears to be a quiet child until she speaks and I’m struck immediately by the intense, passionate clarity with which she expresses herself. She belongs to a youth-headed household (i.e. she has an older sibling over 18, who looks after her). What is most difficult for S-, I ask her? The other children at school treat her differently, say horrible things to her about being an orphan, it hurts. But S- exclaims fiercely that she is focused on her learning, on working hard at school, one day she wants to be a pilot. I love this young girl’s dream to control her own direction, to fly high.

Lindiwe (23) looks after three younger siblings. The last five years have been so difficult for her but she's starting to laugh again.

I speak with Lindiwe (23); because she is over 18 she is OK for me to use her name and for Mark and Tim to take photographs. She was 17 years and in Grade 12 when her mother passed in 2005. In the same year, she lost her father in a car accident. The shock and trauma of losing both parents in one year impacted her and she had to repeat matric. “I cried every day,” remembers Lindiwe touching her heart whilst talking to me. At the time, her gogo looked after her and the three younger children, but her gogo passed in 2009. “Then it was very difficult,” says Lindiwe, “I was all alone again and we had to take tenants into our house to bring in an income.” After being supported by Heartbeat for many years, Lindiwe is now working for the organization.

Gogo Munama (59) is supported by Heartbeat in the task of raising her 10 year old granddaughter by herself.

I talk with Gogo Munama (59) who lives alone and looks after her granddaughter G- who is ten years old and scampering around the one-bedroomed house. Gogo Munama tells me she lost her younger daughter in 2001 and had to leave her work as a domestic so that she could take care of her one year old granddaughter. It was very hard then, there was no money so her older daughter had to support them. Heartbeat assisted with securing a foster grant for Gogo Munama and now the situation has stabilised. “Take care,“ I say when we leave, “Yes,” she smiles at me, “I’m strong, now I’m very strong.”