THIS IS ME, I AM WHAT I AM. I DON’T KNOW MYSELF. I DON’T EVEN KNOW MY PAST. YOU TELL ME HOW CAN I LEARN WHO I AM, WHAT I AM, WHERE DO I LIVE AND WHAT IS MY CAPABILITY IN LIFE. I DON’ KNOW IF I HAVE TALENT BUT ALL I KNOW IS THAT I’M A SHADOW AND I’M INVISIBLE, LIKE NO-ONE CAN SEE ME, HEAR ME OR FEEL ME NEAR THEM. I WANNA KNOW CAN I LOVE, CAN I SEE THE WORLD AROUND ME?

My Daddy and his father’s memorable ring.
Ebrahiema Karriem, 55, Hanover Park. His mother and father, my grandmother and grandfather were born in District 6, he was also born there. He said his mother and father were very good people and that they also liked going to parties and clubs in their younger days. This was in the Woodstock Town Hall and the Laviahesta. They were the two best clubs that coloured people was allowed in. They lived in a street that was called Wanderleer Straat in District 6. That time there was food called by the name of Pootjies and Penns, there wasn’t chicken. That time every Sunday they used to eat boat, curry, meatballs and kolyflower food. He learned from both his parents and in school. The smell of the sea gave them a fresh smell every morning.

This radio reminds me of my grandpa’s favourite songs titled Hurt, Sunshine ..etc. When I was 9 years old I used to sing with him but I never knew the words but I sang with him till today. But no-one can say if I’m a singer or what. Thankx Grandpa for also bringing me this far. I have trusted you for too long but I have to do it on my own now.

This piece of art was drawn by my Grandpa. This picture was painted two weeks before they were thrown out by the cops in Apartheid.

Roselina Botha My Mother

With tears in her eyes while I was talking to her and taking her back to aparheid days. She is holding her mother’s (Iris Botha) Dom-pas.

Blacks and Coloured people were to carry the Dom-pas to come to town.

NY 9 Room 17 Gugulethu

The house which Roselina had to pay rent for during apartheid days. Now she owns it.

The Rent Card

Black people were to pay rent with this card. If you didn’t pay for three months you will be chucked out of the house.

Because of Apartheid, Black people were forced to move to one place to the other. Roselina Botha, my mother and her family was also moved many times.

Free at last

Black people were not allowed to sit in  such places (The Company Garden) in Town during Aparheid.

My Heritage, My Roots, My Culture

We need to keep our culture alive

Don’t forget you background

Heritage in Khayelitsha

Before our house was a shack but now it is a brick house. Most people found in Khayelitsha are Xhosa coming from Eastern Cape. They are the people I belong to culturally speaking. Khayelitsha people are holding onto their culture and traditions. We don’t follow all the traditions because of our church, The only tradition we perform is the circumcision because my father went to initiation school do did my brothers.

If you can see in the picture, there are blood stains. The sheeps were being slaughtered. They are going to have a traditional ceremony.

This is how umqombothi is made.

About Lwandle Museum

Migrant Labour Museum

This was the hostels room and what you see in the picture is the closet.

Who am I?

I am a 17 year old girl who is on route to finding her true being, black and proud, fat and loving it. I have a small heart, but with lots of love. I may not be sure of who I am but that won’t stop me from going forward. I may not know who I am but try to. You may know who you are, or think you do, but have you ever questioned that?

I was discriminated against
Because of the accent of my voice
‘cause on the other end she
thought I was white.
Now that I’m black you cannot
handle it
‘cause now we equal.
Almost everything about us
is the same.
Over the phone when you thought
I was white, you were kind
Now that I’m black and in your
face, you’re cruel, when I
ask you why, you tell me
“I thought you were white”

As I sit here I wonder
wonder what was it
that made them hate us so much?

Then it comes to me
They were never happy
Love to them didn’t exist

For they felt this emptiness inside
and treating another with
a darker skin
made them feel fuller and bigger.

They did not realize
That they were making
us strong and them becoming weaker
For now today we walk proud
and free and do not hide our past.

But they walk with shame
and a fear of what they
will become
Some even change their
name cause those names
were causes of pain, suffering
and death.

These are the streets of my community.
It’s calm by day, wild by night.

A home small to you, but
Big to me.
It was built by the strength
And sweat
Of my late grandpa.

It may look small
And disorganized
But it’s filled with so much
Love
That it will be impossible
To forget it.

The truth has been hidden
from me for so long.
The pain, the suffering of the
ones who lived before us.
Now comes back in a rush
to push my curiosity.

I can feel for them their
pain, but make it up to
them, yes by making their
sufferings my victory.

Searching

I look behind me
could it have been?
In front it looks
Like a whirlwind

I have so many faces
So many masks
Which one is mine
I dare even ask.

I’m so near
But yet so far
Reality is screaming
It’s tearing me apart

Since I can remember, I have been different, conservative, quiet but not shy, but sometimes people perceive me in that manner. To me life was tough, for my mother too. Alcohol seemed to be a way for her to cope, almost to numb emotional pain, which left her oblivious to my needs emotionally.

In past times, my neighbourhood was very similar to the wild, wild west. Gangsterism and drugs was away of life, to empower and cope.

These days has past but unfortunately the stigma remains. Elsies is my home, my family, my pride but things has not always been that way.

In my community people care, everybody knows each other. The Groenewalds, our neighbours knows their neighbours the Adonisis and to them I was like family. They became my mother and father, they “adopted” me, made me feel special and that I mattered.

Watching TV was a privilege to me. Growing up in a shack without electricity was not easy, but it learned me valuable principles, like humility, respect and perseverance. I conquered all the odds finishing my matric in 2005.

This is my family. In winter when it is very cold we used to make a “gellie blik” fire. All the family members would then come sit around the fire and just talk about what has been happening around the community. The children were usually quiet while the grown ups talked.

Journey

On the train
From Elsies to
Cape town I
Embarked on a journey

Phrases and places passed,
Familiar in all their splendour
Of mix, but yet vibrant
Influences of colossal
Significance from a
Past, that can be
Touched, smell, taste
And see

Now empty, but not
Deserted, Dusty but
Preserved for a
Generation that will
know their roots
in the past and
their Identity in
The future.

The shadow of slaves still covers Cape Town.

This is a slave lodge. In 1679 slaves lived in bad conditions in big numbers and some died in this lodge.

Over 9 thousand slaves were brought here from all over Africa and Asia in ships.

They were brought in ships and chained like animals.

We are still affected by slavery and Apartheid.

My mom and a mom to many people in my community.

We live in a community where substance abuse is dominating. By using substance we are limiting our own opportunities in our lives.

This is a salon in the past in District Six and it is said that everybody used that salon so that’s why everyone know everyone’s business.

These guys are Congolese and they are my friends. They are judged for being Congolses not for being who they are inside. Some South Africans think they are better than them because they are South Africans.

Knowledge is power

Column of Memories with names of the slaves

This is where my whole journey started …walking in the steps of my ancestors.

Sense of belonging

Knowing where I really come from … All happened in this place. Never in a million years I thought I was gonna be the first one from my family to discover the meaning of our name. “Solomons” is a slavery surname and “Le Keur” came from the French.

Going back to my roots

My Aunt Siena Sofia Lekeur, 77 years. She was born in 1930. She met my uncle John Lekeur in her early twenties and got married to him at the age of 26. Being married to him was her most wonderful years, and their marriage was indescribable for 51 years. To be married for so long only means one thing, he was the love of her life, until they were separated by his death. She talks about her belated husband almost as if he was still alive.

My uncle John Lekeur.

Her greatest love who passed away a month before his 75th birthday ten years ago.

Atlantis, a small town of the West Coast which was called the “The Lost City” made it’s existence in 1975.

Coming to the end of my story “my house”. Making this place so special is that the street I live on was the first street in Atlantis. Grew up here at the age of nine, besides being an old house, this is where I lived all my childhood memories...

Creating space for myself in Cape Town is still the thing I’m struggling with. My family were removed to the West Coast area of the Western Cape, Atlantis. Having no access to town that makes me very frustrated. I am a person who loves being in town.

Thousands of women and children were locked up at the Slave Lodge. They were abused by sailors who came and sexually abused them. Sailors mostly white men came to the lodge for the women.

The women were not allowed to go outside, they had to stay in while the men “Coloured and Black” had to go work for the white people. Women and children had no rights. They were the property of their masters and couldn’t defend themselves against all the abuse.

Slaves used to do their day to day runnings in this courtyard, cooking, cleaning, washing and socializing.

A space filled with tears and sadness, and sometimes laughter and joy.

Cape Town was built by slaves.

Thursday Tradition – curling hair for the Friday.