University of Alberta HOMELANDS A narrative inquiry into home and belonging in an informal settlement in South Africa by Pieter Francois de Vos A thesis submitted to the Faculty of Graduate Studies and Research in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy Department of Anthropology © Pieter Francois de Vos Spring 2014 Edmonton, Alberta Permission is hereby granted to the University of Alberta Libraries to reproduce single copies of this thesis and to lend or sell such copies for private, scholarly or scientific research purposes only. Where the thesis is converted to, or otherwise made available in digital form, the University of Alberta will advise potential users of the thesis of these terms. The author reserves all other publication and other rights in association with the copyright in the thesis and, except as herein before provided, neither the thesis nor any substantial portion thereof may be printed or otherwise reproduced in any material form whatsoever without the author's prior written permission. DEDICATION This dissertation is dedicated to those who have made my homecoming possible. * * * To Donald, Christopher, Benjamin, and Trevor for entrusting me with your friendship and your stories. To my parents for your love and abiding faith in me. To Rachel and the Bocock family for your affection and your lessons in belonging. To Vera for your inspiration and guidance. ABSTRACT * * * This narrative inquiry explores the experiences of ‘home’ and ‘belonging’ in Woodlane Village, an informal settlement (squatter camp) in Pretoria, South Africa. From July to October 2012 and August to September 2013 I spent time in conversation with four men inquiring into our experiences of home. Our journeys and our relationships are retold as narrative accounts. These accounts are set against the backdrop of the events that led to the creation of Woodlane Village and the larger social and historical forces that have shaped South Africa. They convey the nuanced and complex ways in which people make sense of home and belonging. In doing so, they reveal how individuals experience life in a temporary and transient community and the negotiations required to make a home in such a place. While the stories are situated within Woodlane Village they speak to the larger experience of being human and the ways in which we create belonging through relationships. They speak of love and loss, of adaptation and resilience, and of the yearning to live in community with others despite the forces pulling us apart. In this way, the stories offer new insights to the unique realities of post-apartheid South Africa. The experiential complexity of life in the settlement mirrors the contrasts, tensions, and dynamics in the country. The resulting dissertation is a meditation on history, place, and identity — and the way our understandings of ourselves are constructed and refashioned through the stories we tell about our lives and our homes. As such, the work expands our understandings of narrative, intersubjectivity, and place-making. It also breaks new ground by bringing the methodology of narrative inquiry into the discipline of anthropology. ACKNOWLEDGMENT This dissertation would not have been possible without the contributions of the following individuals. * * * I am indebted to Dr Vera Caine who helped me resurrect my doctoral studies when I was on the brink of pulling out of the programme. Without her friendship, patience, and support, I would never have embarked upon or completed this homecoming journey. The personal and academic outcomes of this endeavour are owed largely to her vision and leadership. I would also like to recognise Dr Andie Palmer for her guidance during my studies. Without her advocacy and support, I would not have finished this degree. She cleared the way. I am also grateful to Anne Davidson for providing encouragement and for allowing me the latitude to concentrate on my studies while working for the Government of Alberta. I am also appreciative to Colin and Denise Dredge for facilitating my entry into Woodlane Village and for providing such an inspiring example of living courageously and with pure intention. I will always remember their message of faith in action. I would like to acknowledge the hospitality of my relatives in South Africa who blessed me with accommodation and generosity during my fieldwork and who have taught me the importance of forgiveness. Finally, I would like to recognise Donald and Christopher for being such dear friends to me and for helping me establish a new and hopeful relationship with my homeland. Your companionship has been the true gift of this experience. TABLE OF CONTENTS 1. Prologue P. 1 Narrative beginnings & methods 2. Travelogue: Part One P. 35 July to October 2012 3. Christopher P. 121 4. Benjamin P. 179 5. Trevor P. 197 6. Donald P. 221 7. Travelogue: Part Two P. 277 August & September 2013 8. Epilogue P. 343 Narrative threads & analysis 9. Bibliography P. 387 1 PROLOGUE 1 TO DRINK ITS WATER By Ingrid de Kok 1 Home is where the heart is: a tin can tied to a stray dog. The only truth is home truth: preserves on the winter shelf. Those who carry their homes on their backs live for hundreds of years, moving inch by inch from birth to lagoon. 2 Beside the beaten path to the veld where I once played, dry riverbed and unwashed clothes grey lizards on the rocks. My shadow squats in the shade of a thorn where children sift and store the remnants of corroded bins. Over the path, the rocks, the tree, marauding sky, fiercer than memory. 2 * * * SEPTEMBER 2011 ’m strolling along the promenade in Cape Town that winds from I my uncle’s flat to the affluent community of Sea Point. Table Mountain reclines in the background, a solid mass of sandstone and granite, languid, stripped bare of its cloud cover. The cold expanse of the Atlantic Ocean stretches to the Antarctic. The sun shares the sky with the moon. After weeks of being at the mercy of my extended family, I am enjoying the opportunity to be alone. It has been an intense period of reuniting with relatives, many of whom I have not seen since my last visit to South Africa in 1993. I was twenty-three then and I am forty-one now. A lifetime of struggles, triumphs, turning points and petty routines spans this interval and yet it seems as if I was here only yesterday — such is the paradox of time. My journey takes me past the apartment buildings that overlook the shoreline. The ocean is calm. Workers are clearing the beaches of kelp that washed up during a storm a few days ago. Nearby, a man is cleaning his clothes in a tidal pool. A mother watches as her two children play on the rocks. A sailboat tacks in the distance. Seagulls crisscross the sky on relentless patrols. 3 My thoughts wander back to the last month, trying to weave together a jumble of experiences: the peaceful days with my Oom Tobie and Tannie Henriette in their homes in Pretoria and Plettenberg Bay, the kitchen conversations about faith and family history; the time spent in a squatter camp in the posh suburb of Moreleta Park, tin and plastic shacks surrounded by mansions, the neighbouring churches that stood in opposition to the disenfranchised despite Christ’s message of love, the decay in the heart of prosperity; the generosity of my Oom Japie and Tannie Minda, who welcomed me even though I was a relative stranger, whose hearts remained open despite grieving the loss of their son, Ricus — who at thirty-three years old had been murdered over four cell phones, leaving behind the photo albums of his previous life, the chronicle of his death, the coroner’s report, the emails sent by friends post-mortem; the rugged beauty of the Cape Coast, the whales bridging in Hermanus, set against the revolutionary cry of “Kill the Boer” to banish the ghosts of apartheid; the remnants of the failed experiment in Afrikaner nationhood, the Voortrekker Monument commemorating the Great Trek of the Dutch settlers and their victory at Blood River, the Vrouemonument honouring the 26,2511 Boer women and children who died in concentration camps following Britain’s scorched earth policy of 1900 — the same policy of destruction that cost my great grandparents their farm and the lives of three children in four days in an internment camp. All of these memories and more are intertwined. The walkway is a ribbon tracing my experiences of this place, tying together the contradictions: the hopes, the promises, and the false dreams. My immigration to Canada and subsequent return visits to South Africa coincide with turning points in this country’s history: the Soweto Uprising in 1976, the release of Nelson 1 Fatality numbers inscribed in stone on the Vrouemonument (Women’s Monument): 4,177 women and 22,074 children. Elizabeth van Heyningen (2008) argues that the wake of this huge mortality established a mythology of suffering that fed into Afrikaner nationalism. 4 Mandela from Robben Island in 1990, the democratic transition in 1993 leading to the first general election in 1994, the rise of Julius Malema in 2011. Since my arrival, I have felt a predictable displacement in a homeland that is at once familiar and foreign to me. Despite spending my formative years in Canada, I have a connection to South Africa and to ways of knowing that are deeply Afrikaner. I still speak the language and I share the heartache of loving a country where I no longer belong. But, I am also Canadian by way of conscience and nationality. Some of my relatives have opinions that I find jarring.