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Billionaire and brickie changing lives side by side
Una Mullally



IN MFULENI, dust gets everywhere; around the mouths of children chasing tyres down the roads, in the crevices of sheep intestines that roast on an open grill at the side of the road, and in the eyes of 350 Irish builders who wipe sweat from their brows on a 100acre site of shacks where they have come to build 50 houses in a week. The township of Mfuleni beside Cape Town's airport is home to 25,000 people and is the second area in Cape Town to be paid a visit by the Niall Mellon Township Challenge, the annual building blitz that began four years ago when Mellon, a property developer, decided to transform some of the lives of South Africa's poorest shack-dwellers by giving them a decent roof over their heads.

"There are a lot of lazy buggers in South Africa, " a taxi driver says motioning to the shacks on the way to Mfuleni. He is 'brown', or a 'Cape Coloured', a race of people who disassociate themselves from black Africans, and place themselves above the "lazy niggers", as he puts it, on the hierarchy of race in South Africa.

When the walls of apartheid fell, following Nelson Mandela's release from prison, South Africa became the world's great white, black and brown hope. But economic apartheid is perhaps more vicious. More people live in shacks in Cape Town than in houses. Those who live in townships, if they are lucky, board 'black taxis' (the name refers to the colour of those inside, not the exterior of the vehicle) to work as servants in Cape Town's many mansions and hotels.

Revisiting Imizano Yethu, where Mellon's project worked the previous three years, it is incomprehensible why the inhabitants don't revolt. The vast shanty town high up in Cape Town's hills looks directly across at some of the flashiest mansions in the country, all collared with barbed wire and prominently displaying metal security signs that threaten an "armed response."

Rottweilers bark from behind tall walls. It's in these houses that many of the women in Imizano Yethu clean toilets and floors and iron clothes they could never afford, before returning home to their shacks. There, their own clothes are bundled into plastic bags and hung from the ceiling so, come storm or fire, they can quickly grab their belongings and flee. Before leaving, many will knock down their houses, so the materials of rusted corrugated iron, plastic and rotten wood might be re-used after whatever disaster chooses to strike. Two years ago, a fire destroyed most of the housing here. The builders warn against going beyond the main strip. "It's intimidating, " these tough, six or so foot, broad men say.

'Like mansions for them' This is the fourth year that Niall Mellon's team of volunteers has arrived to address one of the most serious issues in South African society, a massive waiting list for houses that has a backlog of 400,000 units in Cape Town alone, and is growing at a rate of 27,000 per year.

The volunteers . . . 80% of whom are in the construction industry . . . come from all over Ireland and from all age groups, from teenagers to pensioners. When their buses drive into Mfuleni, they are met with cheers from the locals. As the week progresses, it seems like everyone in Cape Town knows who these Irish are, and who Niall Mellon is.

The blacks are full of praise, the whites are somewhat bemused.

Eamonn Wade, a 19-year-old from Rearcross in Tipperary, and 21-year-old David Ryan, from Bansha in Tipperary, are the type of people Niall Mellon needs to come over next year. Many of the volunteers are in their 40s, 50s and 60s. Wade and Ryan, both carpenters, have come in a group of 10. "The houses are a hundred times better than what they have, " said Wade. "They're like mansions for them."

"At home, a horse wouldn't even go into what they have, " said Ryan. "I know we were told and warned about the poverty, but it's unbelievable, " he said. "This is changing their lives forever, " concludes Wade.

Others were not so profound, intermittently complaining about some of the workmanship . . . doors that opened into the bathrooms and blocked room for the toilets, doorframes too close to the sink.

Some refused to down tools to attend an on-site press briefing led by Archbishop Desmond Tutu during the week. "I'm not going over there to hear another c**t tell me how great I am, " decided one moody roofer.

'Irish are the only ones to help' But as work progressed, support on site for the builders grew.

Everyone greeted everyone, mostly those who were receiving houses themselves. Eunice Yawa and Theo Ntuli have three children; Luzuko, 10, Ruth, 13, and Xolisa, 15. They have lived in Mfuleni for three years. Eunice was almost comically excited about her new home. "We feel so happy, very very happy. I've been living 14 years in a shack . . . no toilet, no water. Now we get a big house with a toilet inside, " she exclaimed, "with water, hot and cold water. I'm so proud."

She shows us her house as Theo who, at three o'clock in the




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