Two years ago, the small farming town of Wolseley erupted in violent protest as farmworkers took to the streets demanding a wage increase. During the riot, farmworker Michael Daniels, 28, was shot and killed, allegedly by policemen when police officers opened fire using live ammunition. FRANCESCA VILLETTE spoke with the family he left behind and the community that is still struggling to survive.
WOLSELEY: It’s dark outside. There is no glimpse of sunlight and spurred on by the ice-cold berg wind, the rain has been paying an unwelcome visit for the past 12 hours.
With no heater or fireplace to keep her warm, Magdelena Daniels, 61, sits alone in her humble abode, exhausted after a gruelling day in court listening to witnesses give detailed testimony about the day her son was killed. But the radio is on.
“We still have our moments together. Whenever I miss him, I play his music.” Magdelena points to a radio she bought her son on his last birthday. Tears filling in her tired eyes, she clears her throat.
“I play my baby’s CDs when I miss him. I miss him every second of every day.”
Magdelena’s son, Michael, was killed by a gunshot to his chest during a farmworker protest in Wolseley in November 2012.
John Geldenhuys stood trial for the murder of Daniels, but was found not guilty after the state failed to prove that Geldenhuys had not acted out of self-defence. Although devastated that no one would pay for the death of her son, Magdelena believes the real judgement day is before God.
“Whoever did this will have to answer to God, one day,” she says.
Michael lived alone with his mother when his sister Martha moved out of the house 20 years ago. Magdelena’s husband and Michael’s father was stabbed to death by a farmworker 22 years ago.
Around two and a half hours’ drive from Cape Town, the small town boasts some of South Africa’s finest vineyards and freshest fruit. It has a population of about 13 000 people.
In 2012, the town was the scene of violent farmworker protests during which cars were set alight and businesses and residences were damaged. Threats to burn surrounding farmland spread like wildfire – causing fear among farm owners.
Michael worked, like his parents and many others in Wolseley, as a farmworker for most of his short life. He did not finish his schooling. After his father died, he needed to find work in order to support the household, Magdelena said.
“Even if he did matriculate, there are no other jobs for him here. There are many matriculants who are sitting, working on the farm. What use is it if they have a certificate?”
As far back as Magdelena can remember, her family have been farmworkers or domestic workers.
“His R350 a week had to go a long way. I saw to it that there was food on the table and we had warm water running.”
Michael also left behind his nine-year-old daughter, Michaela and fiancé Mariliza Brander. Now a single mother, Mariliza visits the doctor once a month to keep at bay her anxiety disorder, spurred on by Michael’s death.
“Financially it is very tough raising her by myself. When Michael was alive, we split everything in half. I am in a lot of debt now without his income,” she says.
The couple were supposed to get married a month after Michael was shot dead.
Mariliza went to the Ceres Hospital on November 14, 2012 where Michael was taken along with four others, but by the time she arrived, Michael had already died.
Mariliza lives and works on La Plainsante Farm – the same farm Michael worked and where they had met.
Like Michael, she too did not finish school. The biggest reason? Not enough money.
“My only dream when I was younger was to find a job,” she said, adding that she had not been bothered by what type of job it was.
“I didn’t have very many of those dreams,” she said.
The nearest university from the small town is about 105km away, in Stellenbosch.
Mariliza has never been able to afford to take Michaela to Cape Town or to see the ocean.
“She wants to be a doctor,” Mariliza said, adding she had no idea how she was going to make her child’s dream possible.
It’s 5am the next morning and the rain has not stopped. Mariliza visits her next-door neighbours Cathleen and Johannes September.
Like clockwork, Cathleen gets out of bed and, despite suffering from backache, conducts her morning routine of starting the kettle, preparing breakfast and getting three children ready for school.
Pointing to a laminated certificate stuck to her wall reading: “Farmworker of the year, 2012”, she says:
“It’s not as bad as people from the city think. This is the life we chose, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.”
Like many farmworkers in Wolseley, Cathleen knows the Breede River Valley like the back of her hand and can offer a city dweller directions by using the mountain as reference. It’s no surprise – she grew up playing between the vineyards and swimming in the mountain streams. She started doing basic farm maintenance jobs and is now a tractor driver – a position she holds with pride.
It is most likely that her children will follow in her footsteps, she says. She lives on La Plainsante farm with Johannes and their children.
“It depends on how you work with your money. If you are poor it is your own problem. We earn enough to live comfortably,” Cathleen’s husband, Johannes interjects as talks about the protest start.
The couple did not participate in the strike two years ago. Unlike the protesters, Cathleen said they were satisfied that their income of around R72 a day was enough to sustain their family.They also had fears that if something were to happen to them, their children would become orphans.
As Johannes lights a fire, neighbours start to trickle closer and hold out their frosty fingertips towards the small flame.
“I know every single person living here,” says Cathleen. “We are family, no doubt about it. My neighbour’s child is my child.”