Volunteering for an African church

Sandra Davids saw them running — women with babies, men carrying blankets, clothes, identity papers anything they could save from the mob.

The next day she did the only thing she could think to do: She went to church. She has been there ever since — sorting baby clothes, laying out rows of tiny shoes and guiding dazed, uprooted mothers.

Local school principal Neal Lochenberg sprang into action organising a task force for thousands of foreigners who had been chased from their homes in Reiger Park, South Africa.

This area east of Johannesburg has been the site of some of the most horrific violence against foreigners living in South Africa, a countrywide explosion that has left many dead and thousands on the run.

But at St Vincent's Anglican Church, local volunteers are showing a different side of Reiger Park. Here, hundreds of volunteers are giving foreigners food, clothes and care. When asked about the violence, they express a mixture of sadness, shame and resolve.

“Reiger Park is an impoverished community,'' Lochenberg says. “Despite that, the people respond to their moral instincts to care for their displaced brothers.''

Although foreigners are often scapegoats in South Africa, the intensity and breadth of the violence this time is unprecedented.

Some in the government theorised about a “Third Force'' behind the unrest — a shady element intent on destabilising South Africa. President Thabo Mbeki called in the army to help quell the attacks.

Since then, however, most government officials have reversed course, saying the trigger for the violence was likely socio-economic — a misdirected outburst in communities long frustrated by poverty.

The Ramaphosa settlement is one such community. It is the picture of South Africa's continuing struggle with unemployment and impoverishment.

When violence erupted, gangs of South Africans roamed the streets, shouting that Africans of other nationalities were the cause of their problems and that it was time for revenge.

“This was building up,'' says Davids, who has lived in Reiger Park for 16 years. “Still, I'm shocked.''

Jean Louw, a resident, recently got a call from Father Hobby Kekana asking her to come to the St Vincent's Anglican Church. He told her that hundreds foreigners were camping on the church grounds. Louw says she recognised acquaintances in the crowd. “You just don't know what to say.''

A surreal calm prevails in the church's courtyard. It is as if everyone is waiting — although for what is anyone's guess.

Settlement

The number of new refugees has decreased, volunteers say. Local authorities estimate that few, if any, foreigners remain in the Ramaphosa settlement.

In the church, Lucinda Baloyi, asks questions of Nohlahla Norgeit, a young Zimbabwean woman grasping a baby. It is Baloyi's job to take details of the newcomers.

Norgeit's experience seems typical: She and her husband fled their home of three years when crowds started roaming the streets, burning shacks and looking for foreigners to kill.

When she went back a few days later to collect her belongings, she saw that everything was gone. “I want to go back home. To Zimbabwe,'' she says.

Grace Dekoker, another volunteer, walks over with some baby clothes. “Do you like any of these?'' she asks. Norgeit smiles, and takes a yellow frock.

Next Baloyi talks to Pasqual Pacwele and copies his details from his passport. Pacwele is Mozambican and has lived in South Africa since 1975.

He came to St Vincent's because he heard he would be safe until he could find a way to return to his home province. “I am thanking God for these people,'' Pacwele says, nodding towards the volunteers.

He tries to smile, but looks desperately weary. “My life was here. Only God knows why this happened.''