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Johannesburg's Migrants' Helpdesk does all it can to assist foreign refugees who have fled hunger, poverty and violence in their home countries.
Simbarashe Mongiro lives the creed of 'persevere, work hard, don’t give up hope'
THEY slept on the street by night; they queued by day. It was one of the coldest winters on the Highveld and she was ready to give birth anytime - their first child.
At night, Pamhidzai Mkange made pap and cabbage for supper, cooked in a tin. Sometimes she got overripe tomatoes and potatoes not fresh enough to sell, from the local vegetable vendors at the Marabastad market. It was a welcome supplement to their diet.
Finally, after three weeks their asylum application was approved.
Moses and Pamhidzai Mkange came to South Africa in 2007 to start a new life. They were not new to hardship and faced their daily challenges with resolve. They are from Zimbabwe. They look happy.
In general, South Africans have embraced them warm-heartedly, confirms Pamhidzai. She looks very young, the little black leather hat perching perkily on her head adding to her innocence. She speaks easily and frankly.
Piece work
Moses, her 28-year-old husband, is more reserved. Dressed neatly in a clean white shirt and khaki pants, he only hopes that he will soon be able to land a job somewhere. He and Pamhidzai both do piece jobs when they can find work.
Where to get help
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Pamhidzai recalls their experiences over the last year. On their return to Johannesburg they found that their rental flat was no longer available. But the City's Migrants' Helpdesk was a great help, Pamhidzai says. When she came into the desk one bitter July morning seeking help, ready to give birth anytime, she was not expecting the kindness she received.
"Yô, it is working very well," she says with emphasis, referring to the helpdesk. "Everything I got in the beginning I got from them."
Helpdesk staff went the extra mile, not only getting Pamhidzai into a safe shelter, but also getting baby's clothes and other extras. She gave birth to a healthy son, Justin, at the Hillbrow Clinic.
Resources
It is not unusual for the helpdesk staff to delve into their own pockets. In fact, they have made it a rule to each contribute some money towards an emergency fund. It is with this money that they buy food, clothes or bus tickets for the destitute who daily come knocking on the door.
The Migrants' Helpdesk was a source of comfort to Moses and Pamhidzai Mkange on their arrival in the country
But it is never enough. Even these funds dry up long before the end of the month. "People come to the helpdesk with the expectation that they will receive material assistance," confirms Dawood Moosa, a helpdesk consultant.
About 70 people a month approach the helpdesk, but it has a limited mandate. "We point people in the direction of resources," Moosa explains. But, despite their limited capacity, staff feel that they are fulfilling a worthy service.
"Even if we are not able to provide a tangible service, even talking to people provides them with a service," agrees colleague Dipuo Masetlha. Nobody is shown away. Of the people coming to the desk, 99 percent are Zimbabweans; the rest are migrants from Democratic Republic of Congo, Somali and the Great Lakes area of Africa.
The massive influx of Zimbabweans has created a grey area, Masetlha says. They are not refugees in the true sense of the word; considered "economic refugees", they find it difficult to access City services. "For the Migrants' Helpdesk, it is neither here nor there. It is a person coming in for help."
The desk is not another Home Affairs office.
Freedom of movement
Joyce Tlou, from the Human Rights Commission, believes it has become critical for the South African government to legalise Zimbabweans' staying in South Africa, allowing them freedom of movement.
"A phrase most often used is, 'There is no war in Zimbabwe,'" Tlou says, but she feels that the human rights element should be the only measure for assistance. The desperation with which these people leave a country like Zimbabwe is understated.
"There is serious disturbance in the public order of the migrant's country of origin."
Moses himself has sat at Beit Bridge, on the South African border with Zimbabwe, ready for to be deported. As a last resort, he sold his only remaining possession of value, his cellphone, and fled back to Johannesburg to his pregnant wife. He had no doubts about his decision: for him and his family, there is only one place left to go - South Africa.
"The greatest challenge is to understand the situation of an asylum seeker, interpreting the facts – each case must be judged on merit," Tlou feels. In the majority of cases she handles, people have problems getting asylum papers. The endless queues at Home Affairs, the hierarchy of bribers and the migrants' vulnerability to arrest while they wait to become legal, make for a torrid time.
Xenophobia
And while they wait for their papers these migrants have to fend for themselves without any support system. "A second layer relates to the instances of xenophobia that occur from time to time – where both lives and possessions may be lost."
But being a buffer and soundboard for migrants takes its toll. "At times it just feels that we are taking too much," Masetlha admits. The reality can be upsetting; sometimes immediate action is critical. "If we don't help the person now [with food for instance], the person will die," Masetlha says, recalling one client in particular. "We are also bound by the Bill of Rights."
The consulting and screening process the helpdesk undertakes with each person also helps the non-governmental organisations to whom migrants are referred. "Most of our energy leaks out, dealing with very minute needs with minute resources."
Success stories
Measured against the average Joburg resident's lifestyle, the Mkanges' living conditions are improving at snail's pace. But theirs is a success story. Today, they have shelter, a healthy baby son, food and each other. For R150 a month, they rent a shack in Natalspruit informal settlement. Their daily meal still consists mostly of pap and cabbage. They have two each of crockery and cutlery, a two-plate stove and one blanket each. Together with a small parcel of clothes each, these are all their worldly possessions.
The City draws people to it
Moses is hopeful of finding work. As a qualified teacher, he earned R50 a month in Zimbabwe. "It's better, so much better [in South Africa]. Food is scarce in Zimbabwe," Pamhidzai confirms. She herself has her A-levels (matric) and is a very good bookkeeper.
A common, but invisible thread connecting migrants who make it seems to be perseverance. It is true, Pamhidzai says. "Persevere, work hard. Look for better chances, don't give up hope. Don't do crime."
Those who make it live by these simple truths.
Another Zimbabwean, Simbarashe Mongiro, lives this attitude daily. Mongiro has been in the country for two years, having fled his homeland after being arrested a couple of times and assaulted for his political affiliations. Today he has a permanent job as a fruit and vegetable supervisor at a large retailer – his first real job in two years. During this time he never stopped trying.
Motivated
"You can see it in the person's attitude. The ones who make it do not give up, they are very motivated," Moosa agrees.
Mongiro's plan was simple. "I just kept telling myself, 'I will get a job.'" And he is not stopping at finding a job, either. His next plan is to go back to school to improve his purchasing, supply and stores management diploma. It will take some time, however, as he needs an identity document.
He also wants to give back to the organisations that helped him, so that others can be helped in turn. He has already arranged with the Migrants' Helpdesk to distribute the food he gets from his employer to different NGOs; and he aims to bring more retailers on board.
"There is nothing easy in life. Go in a straight way. Be passionate, it gives you freedom," is his advice to fellow migrants.
This is the one message that does not always come out correctly, according to Tlou. A typical migrant dynamic is to portray an image of success to people still in the home country. "People get the idea that it is easy [coming to South Africa]."
Hardships and challenges
Despite language and cultural differences, migrants have much in common. They face the same hardships and have to overcome the same challenges, the biggest of which is probably finding shelter.
Moosa says in particular male migrants struggle because few shelters give men accommodation. The City of Johannesburg has earmarked a building in Fordsburg for the establishment of a transitional shelter for men, women and children. Three floors will be refurbished to accommodate about 300 people at any given time. But it is still in the initial phase of planning.
A second challenge relates to the migrants' qualifications. Many are well educated but have difficulty converting their qualifications to South African standards, which is done by the South African Qualifications Association.
But to be evaluated and have your qualifications converted costs money, and herein lies the rub. Many migrants arrive in South Africa with only the clothes on their backs. To convert their qualifications they need at least R350 and will wait three months for their applications to be approved.
To speed up the process to a 15-day waiting period costs R720; if they pay R540 the waiting period is 30 days.
Banking
They also have difficulty in accessing banking facilities. Most of the NGOs working in the sector have found that the application process for banking is fraught with discrepancies.
Josephine Namata works for the Jesuit Refugee Organisation. "The personality of the bank manager plays an important role," she says. Refugees are at the mercy of the manager's whim, with no clear rules seemingly applied. At one point refugees were able to open accounts at the Yeoville and Carlton Centre branches of a large banking group. For some reason, this has since been stopped, confirms Thomas Renie, of Christians for Peace in Africa.
The City hopes to roll out more helpdesks to Regions C and G in the near future. In the meantime, the Migrants' Helpdesk and Joburg's human development unit have set up steering committees with NGOs to help migrants with the challenges they face.
Other steering committees will look into health issues, providing access to schooling for migrant children, financial assistance, and assistance with street trading and licensing.
"We want to do a lot but don't have financial back-up at this time. Material assistance is the biggest need," Moosa concludes.
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