Kahawa Soweto is a slum on the northeast edge of Nairobi, Kenya. Children chase each other down a narrow dirt road, passing women with water jugs.

It’s a densely packed area, and it’s not just people that live here.

“We have [chickens] here,” says Regina Wangari as she opens the door to a shack that she recently converted into a coop. “Outside we have almost 20 of them – here in the ghetto.”

Wangari lets the chickens roam freely around the slum, nibbling on bits of garbage and grass.

She also raises other animals. In a tight alley behind her shack, she keeps a dozen goats.

And in a shanty nearby, she has rabbit cages stacked from floor to ceiling. There are more than 400 rabbits in the small metal shack.

Rabbits being raised in a metal shack in the Nairobi slum of Kahawa Soweto. (Photo: Anders Kelto)

Raising livestock in the city isn’t new in sub-Saharan Africa, but it is a growing trend.

“It’s on the increase and – in fact – increasing faster than the rate of urbanization,” says Diana Lee-Smith, a food policy expert with the Mazingira Institute, an urban farmers education and advocacy group based in Nairobi.

Lee-Smith says that, for years, many African governments staunchly opposed allowing farm animals in cities. That’s because the animals produce waste, can transmit diseases, and cause traffic accidents.

But Lee-Smith says, in the past few years, there’s been a shift in the attitudes of some governments – including Kenya’s.

“Local and central governments are beginning to adopt favorable and supportive policies,” she says.

That shift is partly due to the benefits of urban farming.

Improving Health, Increasing Wealth

“Livestock products are pretty perishable and hard to move around,” says Delia Grace, a public health researcher with the International Livestock Research Institute. She explains that in developing countries where there is little refrigeration, “it makes enormous sense to keep the livestock close [to the cities].”

Grace says the most important benefit of urban livestock in the developing world is its impact on childhood nutrition.

Milcah Muthoni stands behind her home in Kahawa Soweto. She raises goats and chickens, and grows a variety of crops, in her back yard. (Photo: Anders Kelto)

Studies have shown that urban children whose families own animals are healthier than children whose families do not. That’s because meat, eggs, and milk have protein and nutrients that are lacking in the diet that many Kenyan children subsist on – corn meal and cabbage.

Regina Wangari, the woman who raises chickens, rabbits and goats, says her four children are healthy and strong.

“They are strong because we have everything here: milk, egg, meat, all those things we get free,” Wangari says.

Raising animals has also allowed Wangari to make a good income. She earns nearly a $1,000 a month by selling eggs and chickens. That’s an incredible amount of money for a family in this area.

Wangari has invested some of that money in an egg incubator and is now selling more than 700 baby chicks per month, mainly to neighbors who want to breed chickens.

Training New Urban Farmers

Another urban farmer who has enjoyed great success is Francis Wajira. He teaches classes on raising livestock at his home in downtown Nairobi.

Francis Wajira raises chickens and goats in downtown Nairobi. He also teaches other residents how to raise livestock in the city. (Photo: Anders Kelto)

“We always have about five to 10 people almost daily visiting me, to come for the training,” he says.

Wajira charges about $6 per person, per session. That’s a hefty sum for many. The fact that people are willing to pay it shows that they value the instruction.

Two wooden benches serve as Wajira’s outdoor classroom. His small yard in a dense Nairobi neighborhood is overflowing with fruit trees, vegetables, and animal pens.

“Whatever small space you have, you can do something,” he says. “You can keep a few rabbit, you can keep a few chicken, you can grow vegetables – all over the world.”

But there’s an irony to the success of urban farmers here.

Regina Wangari, the woman who sells chickens, says her family has saved up enough money to buy a home in a more expensive part of Nairobi. But she hasn’t found a nice neighborhood that will let her keep animals.

The pediatrics wing of St. Paul’s Hospital in Addis Ababa is a busy place. Nervous parents move in and out, waiting for their kids to be seen.

There aren’t a lot of doctors here, but there is one group of people that seems to be everywhere: young, white-coated medical students.

Until recently, Ethiopia had just one physician for every 100,000 people, but now the country is dramatically increasing the number of doctors it produces.

This year, the government opened 13 new medical schools, which more than doubled the number in the country. Ethiopia has also been increasing enrollment at existing schools.

“This year, for the first time, we enrolled 3,100 medical students, which is almost tenfold compared to what we used to enroll five, six years ago,” says Dr. Tedros Adhanom, Ethiopia’s foreign minister, who until recently served as minister of health.

Tedros says Ethiopia’s severe physician shortage is one of the country’s most pressing concerns.

Many doctors leave Ethiopia for higher-paying jobs overseas, and those who stay tend to work in the cities and in the private sector. That means the 85 percent of Ethiopians who live in rural villages may never see a doctor.

Tedros says the government’s solution is to deliberately overproduce doctors and flood the country with new physicians. “Even if you lose 100 or 200, everybody doesn’t migrate,” he says.

Dame Endalew is in his final year at St. Paul’s Medical College in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. (Photo: Anders Kelto)

Dame Endalew, a medical student at St. Paul’s, says the sharp increase in enrollment has made it difficult to learn.

“There’s a scarcity of resources,” Dame says. “We don’t have books, computer labs, lecturers. Every time the number of students increases, these things become worsened.”

Dame says he often can’t complete assignments because all of the books and computers are in use. He had to share a cadaver with 30 peers. And he often interviews patients who have already seen 10 or 15 other medical students.

“When you try to work with them, they are really fed up with the students asking the same question again and again,” he says.

But perhaps the biggest problem at Ethiopian medical schools is a shortage of instructors.

There are very few incentives for senior doctors to teach at medical schools. That means young doctors like Daniel Hailemariam, a professor of public health at the University of Addis Ababa, are asked to step in.

“I just graduated in July, and I’m currently enrolled as a faculty there,” he says, though he has never worked in the public health sector.

A classroom inside St. Paul’s Medical College, which has enrolled a growing number of students. (Photo: Anders Kelto)

One foreign doctor, who has worked in Ethiopia for more than 20 years, but asked not to be identified, said these new schools are producing a generation of doctors who don’t know what they’re doing, and they could do more harm than good.

Dr. Tedros Adhanom, Ethiopia’s former minister of health, agrees that physician quality is a concern, but he insists that Ethiopian schools will meet a minimum standard for medical education. And he says that’s good enough for now.

“I don’t think we will change this country by waiting until we get something perfect to start something,” Tedros says. “It cannot be perfect. We have to start with what we have.”

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Kalkidan Hailemariam, a 19-year-old broadcast journalism student at the University of Addis Ababa, says her parents started calling her by her house name, Mitu, when she was about one year old.

Kalkidan Hailemariam aka ‘Mitu’

“I really like [my house name]. When someone calls me Kalkidan, I don’t even turn my face,” she says.

Zelealem Leyew, a professor of linguistics at the University of Addis Ababa, says Mitu is a fairly typical house name for someone of Kalkidan’s age.

“We have these short and precise home names, like Tutu and Chuchu,” Zelealem says.

“And this, in linguistics, we call it reduplication – you just reduplicate or double a syllable,” he says.

Reduplication is common in many languages – from Chinese to Finnish to Maori. But Zelealem says it’s a new phenomenon in Ethiopia.

For centuries, Ethiopians have used long and colorful names, with symbolic meanings. They often bestow blessings or well wishes, or define the relationship between parent and child. Zelealem says that’s still the case in rural villages.

“If you go to the rural dwellers, they still enjoy giving names—these long names with meaning, with expressive power,” Zelealem says.

“They call them, Yene Geta, My Lord; Yene Gasha, My shield; Yene Shegga, My Beautiful or My Pretty,” he says.

Linguistics Professor Zelealem Leyew

“When they came to Ethiopia as missionaries, visitors, travelers, or scholars, they came with their languages,” Zelealem says.

“As a result of contact among speakers of different languages, we inherit names from other languages, and we donate, probably, names to other languages,” he says.

Zelealem says it’s a shame that so many Ethiopians are now using house names that don’t have meaning, and don’t have Ethiopian roots. But he acknowledges that there is a practical advantage to the shorter names – and that might explain their popularity in the cities.

“It is easier to call your baby girl Titi or Lili than Yelf Wagash or Yat’re Ida, which is relatively very long,” Zelealem says.

Eyosias Girma, a first-year student at the University of Addis Ababa, says all the kids in his family have short house names.

“My brother is Sweet,” he says.

“It’s because my mom used to eat a lot of sweet things when she was pregnant. My sister, she is Amen. Amen – let it happen.”

Eyosias says his own house name, Pio, doesn’t have a meaning. It was just something his sister started calling him. But the fact that it has no meaning doesn’t bother him. And he says it certainly doesn’t make him feel any less Ethiopian.

Note from Patrick Cox: listen to the audio file above for more from Linguistics Professor Zelealem Leyew, who himself has four house names. Also in the podcast, a proposed new marriage law would bring new rules for surnames.

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“It tastes like heaven,” says Wendy. “Greasy as hell. And we like it that way.”

French fries to go — or chips funga as they’re called here — are the late-night snack of choice in Nairobi. But recently, chips funga has taken on a whole new meaning.

“It’s basically taking a lady home who you don’t know,” says singer Anto Neosoul. “You met her for the first time, and you take her home for a one-night stand.”

Neosoul is a rising star on the Kenyan music scene. His song, ‘Chips Funga,’ has been riding high on the airwaves here for more than a year.
Neosoul says when he first heard the term chips funga he immediately got it. He says young Kenyans are constantly inventing new slang terms — in English, Swahili, and tribal languages.

The phrase chips funga started popping up on Facebook and Twitter about two years ago, says Harriet Ocharo, a 25-year-old technology writer. So she decided to blog about it. She asked readers about the “etiquette” of a chips funga. The comments started pouring in.

“No sleeping over,” was one comment. “No phone calls before 9 p.m., like, there’s nothing to talk about during the day, so you only call for the hook-up in the evening.”

“No emotional discussions. All gifts are accepted; money is always good. No baby talk.”

Ocharo says, at first, it was mostly men who used the term. But now, women use it too. They’ve even come up with a spin-off: sausage funga. You can probably figure out what that one means. Ocharo says women’s use of these slang terms is a sign of the times in Nairobi, where women no longer feel bound by traditional gender roles.

“Nairobi is a very free town,” says Ocharo. “No one judges a woman if she chips fungas a guy or the other way around. I think it’s a good sign.”

There’s even an online dating site called Chips Funga.

But singer Anto Neosoul says he sometimes worries that young people in Kenya are chips funga-ing too much. And they’re putting themselves in dangerous situations.

“We might contract HIV and AIDS,” says Neosoul. “We might contract STDs and STIs, we might get pregnant.”

Anto even worries that the term makes people want to chips funga — because it sounds funny and lighthearted. So he wanted his song to send a message: that it isn’t necessarily good to be a chips funga. The third verse, which he sings in Swahili, does just that.

“If I put it in English,” says Neosoul, “it would basically be, ‘Put on some ketchup, put on some mayonnaise, put on some salad, you’ve just been served. So, you’ve had a one-night stand, and that’s what you are. You’re chips. You’re French fries. You’re vegetables. And you’ve made yourself cheap, like chips.’”

That’s the message Anto wants people to hear. But it may be the opposite message that has them singing along.

Watch a 15-minute documentary of the chips funga phenomenon here.

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Read the Transcript
The text below is a phonetic transcript of a radio story broadcast by PRI’s THE WORLD. It has been created on deadline by a contractor for PRI. The transcript is included here to facilitate internet searches for audio content. Please report any transcribing errors to theworld@pri.org. This transcript may not be in its final form, and it may be updated. Please be aware that the authoritative record of material distributed by PRI’s THE WORLD is the program audio.

Aaron Schachter: Let’s turn now to Marco Werman in London. Marco, you’ve been reporting all week from perhaps the world’s most international city on how folks from all over the globe view today’s US elections. For this next conversation we’re bringing in The World’s Anders Kelto. He’s in Capetown, South Africa. Anders, are South Africans on the edge of their seats about this election, as we are here in the US?

Anders Kelto: I don’t think most people feel like the president of the United States has a direct impact on their lives, but there a symbolic importance to the person in the White House, especially if it’s once again Barack Obama. You know, his election as the first black president of the US had a hugely powerful impact on people here. It really changed the way that people saw America. You know, it overnight became a country that was capable of electing a black leader, and that fact inspired a lot of people here. It became seen as a symbol of hope.

Marco Werman: Hi, Anders, this is Marco in London. I just wanted to ask you a quick question from this end. I was upstairs here at the BBC Broadcasting House at the African Service and they’ve dispatched a team to President Obama’s ancestral village in Kenya, so clearly what you’re saying about his stature is still resonating in Africa is true there. But there’s an interesting nuance, you know, in 2008 he was seen as a black man who won the White House. But as I spoke yesterday with half Sierra Leonean and half Scottish writer, Aminatta Forna, she pointed out that now in 2012 Obama is seen more realistically as a politician, i.e. for the majority of Africans, he’s a man of privilege. And I’m just wondering if that’s something that you’ve been hearing in South Africa.

Kelto: I think people do have a more nuanced understanding of Obama now. He is not seen as sort of a savior for the continent the way that maybe some people saw him at the last election, in part because of his track record. I mean Obama hasn’t really done that much for Africa, certainly not compared to some past presidents, like Bill Clinton who created a hugely important trade agreement here and who had a very close personal relationship with Nelson Mandela. So I think some people are still sort of waiting to see what is he really gonna do and does he really care about Africa. Having said, if you ask anyone here what they think of Obama they’ll say they love him, and a lot of people, especially in Kenya will say that you know, he’s their cousin. Here in South Africa people will say you know, Obama, he’s an African like us.

Schachter: What would you say is the top priority that South Africans have for the next US president?

Kelto: I think within the aid and development community there is a lot of concern about what happens with the election. Africa as a whole relies heavily on the US for foreign aid, for food aid, for support with their health systems, for fighting HIV, and there is always an eye on the US presidency because the person in that position has to make some tough decisions together with congress about how much money to continue giving to Africa. So I’d say that’s the primary concern. Other issues that have come up when I’ve talked to people have been security. America is still seen here as sort of the world police and people worry that someone in office who doesn’t prioritize Africa might start to withdraw troops and defense systems from the area. There’s concerns about stability in east Africa if the US were to start backing out of that region. So people do still look at America as a stabilizing force of security in the region.

Schachter: The World’s Anders Kelto in Capetown, South Africa, thanks a lot.

Kelto: Thanks, guys.

Copyright ©2012 PRI’s THE WORLD. All rights reserved. No quotes from the materials contained herein may be used in any media without attribution to PRI’s THE WORLD. This transcript may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without prior written permission. For further information, please email The World’s Permissions Coordinator at theworld@pri.org.

Most of these children are here because their parents died of AIDS.

“We have 288 kids that we are taking care [of] around this community,” says Ndileka Xameni, the orphanage director.

For years, Xameni and her staff struggled to feed and support such a large group. Then they received a grant from the United States, from a program started by President George W. Bush.

Ndileka Xameni, the founder of the Siyaphambili Orphan Village, stands with a child from the orphanage. (Photo: Anders Kelto)

That American program – the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR) – was launched in 2003.

“This comprehensive plan will prevent seven million new AIDS infections, treat at least two million people with life-extending drugs, and provide humane care for millions of people suffering from AIDS, and for children orphaned by AIDS,” President Bush said in his 2003 State of the Union address.

At that time, many in the United States saw the AIDS epidemic in Africa as a tragedy that was too difficult – and too expensive – to tackle. But President Bush made this cause a personal crusade.

With the help of Congress, he allocated billions of dollars to fight AIDS in Africa, and that changed the course of the epidemic.

Some elements of PEPFAR were controversial, particularly a requirement that sex education programs teach abstinence. But Dr. David Harrison, founder of an HIV prevention program called LoveLife, says many South Africans viewed President Bush as a hero.

“He was regarded as somebody who had a heart, when their own government was still choosing to ignore [the epidemic] and appeared to be so callous,” Harrison says.

But what about the next US President, or the one after that? Do Africans believe that the person in the White House will continue to affect their lives in such a direct way?

“Actually, the [American] presidency is not nearly as important as people might think it is,” says Michael Power, a global strategist with the South African bank Investec.

While American aid remains important in Africa, Power says many countries see their economic future in trade.

America used to dominate trade here, but Africa’s largest trading partner is now China. Other countries, especially India and Brazil, are also gaining ground.

Children at the Siyaphambili Orphan Village make necklaces using recycled paper beads. (Photo: Anders Kelto)

“The transfer of power that’s taking place in China is actually going to be more important than the transfer of power that will take place – if it does take place – in the United States in January,” he says.

Power says as African countries grow their economies through trade and the US considers cuts to foreign aid, the US president could continue losing influence in Africa. And Africans will continue turning their gaze to the East.

In Mathare, a dense slum on the northern edge of Kenya’s capital, Nairobi, dozens of kids in filthy clothes hang out along a dirt road.

They sit on piles of trash, holding small plastic bottles under their noses. They are sniffing glue – a thick, industrial glue meant for shoe repair and upholstery.

Joseph Nganga, 15, says he inhales the fumes all day long. “When I’m really high on glue, even if you try to get my attention, if you call my name, I won’t hear you,” he says.

Thousands of street kids in Nairobi are addicted to glue. It’s cheap – about 25 cents for a small bottle – and the high lasts several hours.

Gathering places for addicts go by a common nickname: glue bars.

“Children from all over, they can go there, get a shot, and just enjoy the glue,” says Jones Muchedu of the Undugu Society, an organization that helps street kids. At a glue bar, he says, “no one will come and arrest them.”

Glue isn’t a controlled substance, but it is illegal for kids to sniff it. It leads to brain damage and can cause sudden death. Selling glue to children is also illegal.

But it’s not hard to find the dealer who supplies this glue bar.

A few blocks away, sitting on a stump at a quiet street corner, is a woman chomping on a toothpick. She’s 27-years-old – and pregnant. It takes some convincing, but she eventually agrees to talk.

“I started selling glue because of poverty,” she says. “I can’t get a job, and I can’t make a living. I have to get money to feed my children – they need food and clothes. This is the only work I can find.”

In Nairobi, most of the glue dealers are women. They’re called mama pimas – a Swahili term meaning, “women who measure or weigh.” This mama pima asks to be called “Jane.”

“I have three daughters, ages thirteen, seven, and four, and a fourth child on the way,” she says. “With the money that I and my husband make – he also sells glue – we can pay school fees and feed our kids. The children are healthy and doing well in school, and none of them sniff glue,” she adds.

“But sometimes I feel very guilty, especially when I sell glue to very small kids. They’re just children – like my own.”

It’s a disturbing moral dilemma that Jane faces – exploiting children to feed her own – but she seems to have developed her own code of ethics. She claims there are some things she won’t do.

“Sometimes, when I see an innocent child who comes to buy glue, I refuse,” she says. “I think, this is someone who has not been abused, who doesn’t live on the streets – they will be more harmed by the glue.”

But she says she doesn’t feel bad about selling glue to children who look like they’ve sniffing for a long time, or who look like they live on the street.

“In that situation, I usually don’t feel guilty,” she says. “I need the money. If I don’t sell to them, what will my family eat tonight?”

Jane may be taking advantage of street kids – and making judgments about how “innocent” they are – but she is also being exploited. Police regularly extort money from dealers like Jane. Glue manufacturers and vendors make money by selling her their product. And neighborhood bosses charge for the right to sell glue in their areas.

Jones Muchedu, the advocate for street children, says a lot of people capitalize on the desperation of mama pimas like Jane.

“There’s a chain of other people who are benefiting,” he says. “There’s a lot of corruption, and it’s becoming a good business.”

The lake we’re looking for is not Kenya’s biggest, but it is one of the most economically important. Its waters and shores are home to fishermen, farmers and a huge cut flower industry.

The lake borders two national parks, and it’s just 50 miles northwest of Nairobi, so it’s a tourism mecca for Kenya.

And best of all it’s home to a mix of wildlife including pink flamingos and hippopotamuses – or is it hippopotami?

So, can you name this lake that was featured in the film version of “Out of Africa,” about Danish writer Isak Dinesen?

Lake Naivasha hippo (Photo: Nature Conservancy)

It’s called Lake Naivasha and, sitting in a small boat on its water, it looks like an African postcard. Giraffes nibble at acacia trees on shore, as flocks of birds soar by. Hippos peek above the water’s surface, snorting and grunting.

The Lake Naivasha area attracts thousands of local and international tourists a year to its resorts, camps, and two national parks. And in the 1980s, it attracted director Robert Redford as a location for his film, “Out of Africa.”

All that’s part of the reason Naivasha is called Kenya’s most economically important lake. But recently, there’s been trouble here as well, starting with its fluctuating water levels.

Emmanuel Odiambo gives boat tours on Naivasha. Back in 2009, some areas were so shallow that he had to paddle tourists around with oars, so his boat’s propeller wouldn’t hit the bottom.

“The lake level was five meters deep. Normally it used to be twelve meters,” Odiambo says.

The lake’s water levels have always gone up and down. But some here blame recent extremes on increasing human activity like farming. Pollution has increased as well. Forests in the watershed have been cleared for farms, increasing soil runoff into the lake. Fertilizer runoff has caused fish-killing algae blooms. Odiambo says that, a couple years ago, fish were dying in huge numbers and washing up on shore.

“Yeah, even we collect some fish, then we go and dig a small hole to dump all the fish in. Because I think when somebody sees a dead fish, that will cause a problem.”

Scientists say a big part of the problem with water usage and pollution here comes from a single crop – flowers.

Flower cutter Peter Ojembo shows me his technique for cutting roses, which are grown in hundreds of green houses around Lake Naivasha.

“You count the leaves – one two three – and then you cut from here,” Ojembo says.

He counts down from the head and snips the stem just above the soil. Ojembo cuts two hundred bundles of roses every day. Most of them are flown to markets in Europe.

Ojembo says he makes about seventy-five dollars a month, working six days a week.

“The job is very hard. Because two hundred bundles per day, then the salary is very low.”

But it’s a decent job in this part of the world. That’s why officials want to support the flower business while reducing its environmental impact. The Kenyan Wildlife Service is overseeing several programs to limit water use, and cut pollution. One of these, run by the World Wildlife Fund, is a pioneering effort in which downstream farmers pay upstream farms to keep their runoff clean. And there are signs that some of these are working.

Tour guide Emmanuel Odiambo says Naivasha looks way better than it did just a few years ago. In 2009, he says he was on the verge of moving his business.

“At that time, we were planning to take our boats to Lake Victoria,” he says. “But then the water levels came back up. So, nowadays, no problem with the lake. ”

The lake looks good again, and he isn’t hiding dead fish from tourists anymore.

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Now, 270 of the miners involved in that unrest, have been told they will face murder charges.

A law dating back to the apartheid era is being used to prosecute them.

Host Marco Werman talks with reporter Anders Kelto in Cape Town.

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The text below is a phonetic transcript of a radio story broadcast by PRI’s THE WORLD. It has been created on deadline by a contractor for PRI. The transcript is included here to facilitate internet searches for audio content. Please report any transcribing errors to theworld@pri.org. This transcript may not be in its final form, and it may be updated. Please be aware that the authoritative record of material distributed by PRI’s THE WORLD is the program audio.

Marco Werman: I’m Marco Werman. This is The World. In South Africa murder charges had just been filed in the case of 34 people shot dead by police earlier this month during a strike at a platinum mine. But in an unexpected twist in the case the people accused of murder are not the police who fired their weapons, but 270 of the miners involved in the unrest. Prosecutors are using a law that dates back to the apartheid era saying that the miners provoked the police. Public reaction to the charges has led the South African justice minister to demand an explanation. The World’s Anders Kelto is in Cape Town. What has been the reaction on this?

Anders Kelto: People are really angry, Marco. There’s a huge sense of disbelief and some people even find the situation laughable. Probably the most vocal critic of President Jacob Zuma through all of this, and of the police, has been to Julius Malema, the former president of the ANC Youth League, who had this to say.

Julius Malema: The police who actually killed those people, none of them is inside. Not even a single police man is arrested, which is a madness.

Werman: Now, tell us what the law is that’s being used to charge the miners in such a controversial way. It goes back to the apartheid era?

Kelto: It is based on something known as the Common Purpose doctrine. It’s pretty famous or infamous here in South Africa. It’s basically a doctrine used to persecute people who opposed apartheid. So anti-apartheid activists who weren’t even directly involved in certain crimes could still be prosecuted for those crimes just by virtue of their being part of a group. But there’s a very tragic irony to this, of course, which is that the party of Nelson Mandela, which freed South Africa from apartheid is now using this same apartheid era law to accuse poor black miners of murder. And that is what has people so upset.

Werman: How is this expected to unfold in the coming weeks?

Kelto: Because the National Prosecuting Authority brought these charges, the 270 miners who were arrested are being held in jail until next week when they will have their bail hearing. So those miners will be in custody for at least one more week. Meanwhile the President of South Africa, Jacob Zuma, has appointed an independent commission to investigate the shooting. They are expected to deliver a report within about five months. So it’s probably going to be some time before we know what actually happened.

Werman: And how is mining production across South Africa affected by all the labor unrest right now?

Kelto: What’s important to notice is that this is not an isolated incident. There have been other mines that have been shut down and platinum production has slowed. This mine, the Lonmin mine in Marikana, has been shut down for nearly 3 weeks now and unions and the mine owners are going to reopen talks next week to see if they can come to common ground and get production up and running again. But there is a lot of unrest in mines all across the country still.

Werman: What do miners generally make? The men who are working in the platinum mine in Marikana, what kind of salary do they get?

Kelto: Most of them make roughly $5000 a year. Slightly above the average income for South Africans. They’re low-paying jobs and they’re inglorious jobs. A lot of these miners live in these shantytowns a few hundred yards from the entrances to the mines. It’s hard to carve out a living. They’ve been asking for 2 to 3 times the salary that they’re currently making, which obviously would be a huge increase. But even at that increase they certainly wouldn’t be living large.

Werman: Not a glorious life at all. The World’s Anders Kelto in Cape Town. Thank you very much.

Kelto: Thank you, Marco.

Copyright ©2009 PRI’s THE WORLD. All rights reserved. No quotes from the materials contained herein may be used in any media without attribution to PRI’s THE WORLD. This transcript may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without prior written permission. For further information, please email The World’s Permissions Coordinator at theworld@pri.org.

In the eastern province of Kwa-Zulu Natal, Thombi Mavihlombe stands with her daughter outside a small, thatch-roof hut, a field of wild grass surrounding them. Mavihlombe lives here with her eight children, sewing and farming to make ends meet. This year, though, she hasn’t been able to work much. She holds up her left hand to show why.

“A local man attacked me on a bus,” Mavihlombe said. “He elbowed me, grabbed my neck, and started biting me.”

She said the man bit her finger so badly that it became infected.

“It turned green and then black. The pain was awful — it was unbearable.”

Eventually she had to have her finger be amputated. A few days afterwards, Mavihlombe went to a tribal court. She wanted her attacker to be punished.

People in South Africa and other parts of sub-Saharan Arica have used “tribal courts” for centuries to settle civil disputes. The courts are typically made up of village elders, who play the role of jury, or a tribal chief, who acts as judge.

In Mavihlombe’s case, the local tribal chief refused to listen to her.

“He said he wouldn’t hear my case because I am a woman — a crazy woman. He would only talk to a man.”

Observers say it’s common for tribal courts to refuse to hear women’s cases. Women have to be represented by a man. But Thombi’s husband lives and works nearly 200 miles away, so he couldn’t speak for her. As a result, her case was never heard, and her attacker never punished. She’s now lost faith in the tribal justice system.

“No justice is going to come out of the tribal courts,” Mavihlombe said.

Although tribal courts have operated in South Africa since pre-colonial times, their role in the country’s modern justice system is not well defined. So the South African government is now considering legislation that would bring the courts into alignment with modern laws; for instance, women would be given the right to represent themselves. The bill would also make tribal courts part of the modern justice system, and their rulings would be legally binding.

“These courts are the original administrators of justice in South Africa,” said Phathekile Holomisa, a tribal chief and the president of the Congress of Traditional Leaders of South Africa, which supports the bill. Holomisa said it’s critical to preserve the indigenous court system.

“Those people who say African ways of justice administration are backward, outmoded and outdated are perpetuating the program of colonialism, that Africans, to be civilized, must live according to the white man’s ways,” he said. “I believe that our systems in fact are superior to those of the whites.”

He added that “white” courts — or modern courts — feel foreign to many black South Africans.

“The atmosphere there is intimidating. The language that is used is predominantly English, sometimes Afrikaans, but definitely not the African languages.”

But opponents say the new legislation would put too much power in the hands of rural chiefs.

“It entrenches that notion of customary law that says that traditional leaders are autocrats, and ordinary people are just their subjects,” according to Sindiso Mnisi-Weeks, with the University of Cape Town’s Law, Race and Gender Unit.

She said the bill would give chiefs the right to decide what “customary” law is. That means they could still require women to be represented by men, if that’s the tradition in their area. They could even prevent women from owning land or property.

Sizani Ngubane of the Rural Women’s Movement, which has about 50,000 members in Kwa-Zulu Natal, said rural South African women are tired of living under the iron fist of tribal leaders.

“We are working with a group of women who are saying they have never seen democracy,” Ngubane said. She added that chiefs often impose taxes when they want to renovate their homes or buy a new car. Rural women – most of whom are very poor – are afraid they’ll be banished if they refuse to pay. Now, they’ve been showing up at public hearings in huge numbers to fight the tribal courts bill.

“There was resistance left and right in all the public hearings, and some of them even had more than 500 people,” Ngubane said.

Thombi Mavihlombe — who lost her finger in the attack on the bus — said giving tribal courts more power is a bad idea, but she’s grown equally skeptical about modern courts.

After the chief in her area refused to hear her case, she took it to a civil court. But that didn’t work out either.

“The case against my attacker was dropped by the civil court. I wasn’t given an explanation,” she said.

Mavihlombe suspects her attacker, who is from a powerful local family, threatened or paid off the magistrate.

She said it doesn’t matter what kind of court you go to — modern or tribal. What matters is whether the people running it are corrupt.

In South Africa many things divide along racial lines. That includes alcohol consumption.

Wine? That’s what white people drink; while black South Africans favor beer.

Or so the stereotype goes. But that might be starting to change.

At a wine bar in Sea Point, near downtown Cape Town, people sip wine in comfortable lounge chairs. The scent of the nearby Atlantic Ocean drifts in. But there’s something slightly unusual about this scene, at least by South African standards — most of the people at this wine bar are black.

“I’m just into my white wines, my Chenins, my Sauvingon Blancs especially — I find it so refreshing, so crisp,” said Latoya Marivate, a patron who came with a group of friends. “I like my Sauvignon Blancs nicely chilled on a hot sunny day.”

In South Africa, wine has long been seen as a white person’s drink. More than 95 percent of the country’s vineyards are white-owned.

Almost all the wine makers are white. And most people visiting the dozens of vineyards near Cape Town are white. But South Africa’s black middle class has been growing steadily since the end of Apartheid, and more blacks can now afford to buy wine.

Latoya Marivate said many of her black friends are embracing the culture.

“But now people are appreciating it more and are collecting wines and going to wine farms, just enjoying the experience of just wine and the lifestyle that it comes with,” Marivate said.

And she said part of what makes that possible is bars like this one, called Naked.

Andrew Chigorimbo is the owner and manager. He’s black, and said some of his customers feel more comfortable when they meet him.

Andrew Chigorimbo is the manager of Naked, a wine bar located in Cape Town, South Africa. He first developed a love of wine while studying at the University of Stellenbosch. (Photo: Anders Kelto)

He said that, in racially-divided Cape Town, the reverse can also true.

“The most negative response I have had is from white people. First of all, white people come in and a lot of people say, ‘Oh, can you call your boss?’ And you’re like, ‘well, I chose all the wines, I’m the boss.’ And they cannot understand it,” Chigorimbo said.

At a vineyard thirty miles east of Cape Town, Erna Witbooi walked through rows of vines. She’s a 28-year-old scientist at the University of Stellenbosch. Plastic sheets are stretched across several rows of grapes.

“Here we’ve got the Cabernet Sauvignon, and these are actually one of the new ultraviolet sheets that we are installed,” Witbooi said. “It is basically excluding all UV light.

Viticulture — the science of growing grapes — is a major field of research in South Africa. But as a black woman, Witbooi is an anomaly in her field. In fact, she said she’s the only black academic in viticulture in the entire country.

She holds a lecturing position at the University of Stellenbosch, presents at international conferences, and publishes regularly in science journals. But despite all that, she said some colleagues still view her skeptically.

“Where I would be the speaker at a workshop, for instance, and they will sort of just look at you in a sort of weird way,” Witbooi said.

She said awkward moments like that are common in viticulture, which still feels like a white man’s world. But rather than being discouraged, she said she sees incidents like that as motivation.

“I do have days that it actually just goes really, really bad and I do get that feelings of no I don’t belong here, but then I just give myself a little kick under my butt and I just tell myself, well somebody has to be the pioneer,” Witbooi said.

She said her mission now is to recruit more black students — especially women — to the field. A few of her current students are interested. And she hopes many more will follow.

Back in Sea Point, the wine bar Naked is buzzing. Manager Andrew Chigorimbo said many of his black customers still buy wine for the wrong reasons.

“Those are the people who walk in here, they do not know what wine it is, they don’t care, just say I want the most expensive wine and I want to drink it,” Chigorimbo said. “I know for a fact that that person does not know anything about wine, they just want to show that they got the money and they can do it.”

But he said, as time passes, more are beginning to appreciate wine — not just the status that comes with it.

Protesters in front of the Khayelitsha Magistrate Court in Cape Town, South Africa in support of the memory of Zoliswa Nkonyana (pictured). (Photo: Anders Kelto)

Five years later, her murder trial drags on. Gay rights groups complain that the court hasn’t given the case priority. In October, four young men were found guilty of the murder, but the sentencing has been postponed. Angy Peter, a legal advocate for the Nkonyana family, said the court’s handling of the case confirms people’s fears about hate crimes.

“If you are a lesbian in this country and you get killed, it gonna spend like five years waiting for a result and you don’t even know what those results will be,” she said.

In terms of gay rights, South Africa is among the most progressive countries in the world. The constitution explicitly bans discrimination based on sexual orientation. It’s one of just ten countries in the world — and the only one in Africa — to recognize same-sex marriages. Gay couples are allowed to adopt. But those legal protections don’t necessarily translate into tolerance on the ground. Gays and lesbians say they face discrimination in the justice system.

“One would be dishonest if one were to argue that there is no homophobia in South Africa,” said Tlali Tlali, a spokesman for the South African Justice Department. “There is homophobia in South Africa.”

Last year, gay rights groups filed a complaint about his department’s handling of hate crimes against gays and lesbians. Tlali said the agency took this complaint very seriously. It launched a national task force that includes officials from six government agencies, as well as leaders of the LGBT community. The task force is pressing the courts to expedite hate crime cases and exploring legislation that would toughen punishments. It’s also requiring police officers, prosecutors, and judges to undergo sensitivity training. According to Tlali, the message to authorities is clear.

“It really doesn’t matter what the sexual orientation of the victim is. You need to treat this particular individual with the necessary levels of professionalism, with the necessary courtesy, so that they must feel the government is there for everybody, regardless of race, color, creed – including sexual orientation. That is what South Africa is about,” Tlali said.

But he concedes that they’re fighting a difficult battle. He said it’s one thing to tell someone how to act — it’s another to change the way they think.

At a small bar in Khayelitsha, house music blares from the speakers, as a group of young people swigs beer at a table. One woman, who asked to be identified by her first name, Amanda, said she came here because it’s a gay-friendly bar, which isn’t always the case in Cape Town’s poor black townships. Amanda said people at other bars often harass her for being a lesbian.

“They even say that it’s un-African, being a woman, loving another woman. It’s not possible, they say.”

Another woman at the bar, who asked to be called Sarah, said police officers are the worst offenders. A few months ago, one of her friends was the victim of what’s sometimes called “corrective rape” – a violent act aimed at “curing” lesbians and turning them straight. It’s an alarmingly common crime in South Africa, and according to Sarah, going to the police is a waste of time.

“If you go to the police station to lay a charge as a lesbian, first question they will ask you, why are you lesbian? They don’t listen to what you came to do. They ask you why are you lesbian. Why are you sleeping with other girls?”

Sarah said it’s great that the government is requiring sensitivity training, but she questions how effective those programs will be.

“Even if they do the workshops and whatever, if the people they are hiring don’t want to change, they won’t change.”

Prosecutors are expected to argue for a longer sentence in the murder of Zoliswa Nkonyana, because the killing was motivated by the victim’s sexual orientation. If they do, it will be the first time the state’s attorneys have made this argument. The sentencing is scheduled for December 19th.

(Photo: Anders Kelto)

They’re supporters of the ANC, South Africa’s ruling political party. ANC has been in power since 1994, when Nelson Mandela won the country’s first democratic elections. It’s won every election since then by a large margin.

“The ANC is the party that took South Africans from the era of apartheid, and they still have faith that if ANC has a chance to govern, ANC can take them somewhere,” said Xolisa Peter, a member of the ANC Women’s League who lives in Khayelitsha.

Across the road stood another group of people, holding blue signs, and singing nearly as loud. They’re members of the DA, or Democratic Alliance, a party made up of ANC rivals. Just a few years ago, the ANC had no significant political opponents.

That was especially true here in Khayelitsha, a black township with high rates of unemployment and poverty. But growing numbers of black people here and across the country have begun switching to the DA. That’s despite the fact that most DA supporters are white or mixed race.

Michelle Namba, who wore a blue DA t-shirt and held up a sign, said she used to support the ANC, but no longer.

“I was in ANC, but I didn’t see any improvement there. Our president promised us everything, but he didn’t do anything for us. That’s why I quit,” Namba said.
She’s referring to President Jacob Zuma, head of the ANC.

Namba said the DA’s leader, Helen Zille, a former mayor of Cape Town, delivered on a promise to build homes in her neighborhood.

“She’s my mother now. She did everything, she promised to give us the houses, but I see the 60 houses she gave us – that’s why I like her,” Namba said.

The Service Delivery Elections

South Africa’s municipal elections have been dubbed the “service delivery elections.” That’s because South Africans have expressed outrage over a lack of basic services – things like housing, drinking water, and electricity. South Africa boasts the largest economy in Africa, yet millions of South Africans – mostly black – still live in wooden shanties.

Last year, protests erupted here in Khayelitsha when the local government installed public toilets, but didn’t build shelters around them. Residents were forced to drape blankets over themselves for privacy. Peter said that marked a low point in the government’s performance.

“It’s very bad,” Xolisa said. “It reminds us in the very far history, in the Eastern Cape, where our people used to sit in the open fields, where there were no services in the apartheid regime, where we used to fetch waters from the rivers, far distances, and for women it is really very bad.”

It’s true there are problems, said Hitler Mdoda, a member of the ANC who lives in Khayelitsha’s Ward 92. But he added that the ANC is still the party to fix them.

“There are areas where there are some problems,” Mdoda said. “As ANC, we don’t deny that. But, as ANC, we are saying, we are going to change that.”

Election results are still being tallied, but early reports from Wednesday’s local elections suggest that the DA captured nearly 25 percent of the nationwide vote.

That’s up from just over 16 percent in 2009, and 12 percent in 2004. The DA also nearly tripled its number of black supporters since the last election, making it the only party with nearly equal numbers of black, white, and mixed-race voters.

Michelle Namba, who held a blue DA sign, said a lot of people in South Africa think that black South Africans should vote for the ANC just because they are black. But she doesn’t agree.

“We mustn’t go with a color, black or white,” she said, adding that if someone delivers on their promises, they deserve her vote.