The Platinum belt

  • Dates
    2016 - Ongoing
  • Author
  • Topics Contemporary Issues, Documentary

The Platinum Belt, focuses on the human, social, environmental and health impacts of platinum mining on mine-affected communities along South Africa’s platinum belt. The platinum belt stretches over more than 50 000 square kilometres and is home to 80% of the world’s known platinum reserves.

Spanning several years, my initial documentation of the mining sector in South Africa culminated in a body of work between 2011 and 2013 that would encompass a number of minerals that have directly influenced the shaping of the South African landscape. Revealing land rendered unfit for alternative uses such as agriculture and cattle grazing, a public health crisis within local communities unequipped to cope with the burden of air, land and water pollution and through the disruptive influence of historic labour exploitation impacting on family structures and cultural positioning.

South Africa has been associated with mineral wealth, both in diversity and abundance for more than a century and in recent years the demand for platinum, of which South Africa holds the majority of the world’s reserves, has grown exponentially. Platinum in particular has ignited global discussion, questioned mining practices locally and abroad and resulted in a commission of inquiry that lasted 300 days. This was the effect of public, national and international concern arising from tragic protests that unfolded at Anglo Platinum’s Lonmin Mine in Marikana on the western limb on the 16 August 2012 and led to the deaths of 34 miners gunned down by the South African police.

The work I was making during this time had a resonance, which signified everything that is wrong with the mining sector. Acting as a visual archive, a record of current mining practices, an attempt to find answers as to how one could reshape this rapidly growing industry, my photographs in and around this extractive sector have become visual signifiers for change.

With the support of a grant from the Open Society Foundation for South Africa, I returned to the north of the country in early 2016 with the aim of building on from my previous work concerned with transparency and accountability in South Africa’s mining industry by raising further awareness around the impacts of mining.

The narrative ultimately revealing an in-depth investigation into the human, social, environmental and health costs of platinum mining in South Africa, documenting the communities that have grown and bestride the Northern, Eastern and Western Limb that make up ‘The Platinum Belt’ also known as the mineral rich ‘Bushveld Complex’.

Questions are raised and directed at the platinum mining industry straddling three provinces across more than 50 000 kilometres and is home to 80 percent of the worlds known platinum reserves. It supplies around 70% of the world’s platinum.

© Ilan Godfrey - Image from the The Platinum belt photography project
i

Molebotsi Mokoena, 46, Machine Operator from Lesotho, Circle Labour Hostel, Kroondal, Western Limb It is an age-old story within the mining sector, an endless and overbearing concern of every miner who toils night and day in the underbelly of the earth, working for a living wage. In August 2009, 3 920 men employed by the joint-contract mining operations of Murray and Roberts Cementation (M&RC) and platinum miner, Aquarius Platinum South Africa (AQPSA), were fired after embarking on an unprotected strike. Yet their only real infraction had been one of misplaced trust – in the union they had relied on to negotiate wage increases and better working conditions. The National Union of Mine Workers had reassured the men they had acquired a certificate to strike from the CCMA after initial discussions with mine management had failed. In reality, says Edward Sekoboto, a representative of the group, the union had signed a wage agreement with management without consulting its members – a blatant act of misrepresentation. Mine management pleaded with the men to return to work, but they stood their ground under the mistaken impression that the strike was legal, unaware their jobs were at risk. On the fourth day of the strike, a message was relayed to the mineworkers that they had been fired. The following morning, outside the gates, the men gathered in the hope that all was not lost and their jobs would be spared. Certain select individuals were allowed to return to work. But 1 004 of the men were left unemployed. Evicted from the mine hostel within days of the strike, they were briefly housed in tents by the Rustenburg municipality before being relocated to the Circle Labour Hostel in Kroondal, where they subsist under appalling conditions. “Some go in search of food, only returning several months later,” says Edward. “There have been 189 men who have passed away living here. All diseases exist – since 2009 there is no one here who has seen a doctor.” Edward and the 168 others that remain at the Circle Labour Hostel hold on in the hope that their voice will be heard. “We are waiting for our case to be finalised at the Constitutional Court, we all know – all of us including NUM and mine management – that the dismissal was unfair.” Meanwhile, conditions continue to deteriorate. Tuberculosis is rife; bodies lie weak and frail, unmedicated and hungry. Reliant on hand-outs, they have resorted to eating just about anything they can find in order to survive – including rodents and wild spinach. Gradually, the men of Circle Labour Hostel are losing hope.

© Ilan Godfrey - Image from the The Platinum belt photography project
i

Flower wreaths placed at “scene two” of the Marikana massacre, Wonderkop, Western Limb Out of view of news footage that aired to the world the gunning down of striking Lonmin mineworkers by the South African police on the 16th August 2012, 14 of the 34 murdered that day lay lifeless amongst the cracked rocky outcrop 300 metres behind Wonderkop. The boulders of “Small Koppie” – now known as “Killing Koppie” – had offered temporary refuge for the miners fleeing the police, though they were soon hunted down by a SAPS tactical response team and shot at close range. More than four years after the Marikana massacre, the presidency has finally issued a directive calling on relevant government departments to implement recommendations made by the Farlam Commission of Inquiry. Several police officers are facing murder or attempted murder charges

© Ilan Godfrey - An X-ray revealing the extent of Mncedisi Kidman Nkotha’s tuberculosis, Wonderkop, Western Limb
i

An X-ray revealing the extent of Mncedisi Kidman Nkotha’s tuberculosis, Wonderkop, Western Limb

© Ilan Godfrey - Image from the The Platinum belt photography project
i

Andisiwe Nkotha, 17, in the backyard of her home, Skomplas Hostel, Wonderkop, Western Limb Mncedisi Kidman Nkotha arrived on the platinum belt in 1989, and soon found work at the Lonmin Western Platinum Mine’s Rowland Shaft as a loader driver. In 1992, he wedded Nokhwezi Paslina Nkotha, and they took up residence at the Wonderkop married quarters, known to the community as Skomplas Hostel. The Nkothas were content in their new home. Mncedisi worked long hours providing for his growing family – until his health began to slowly deteriorate. After several visits to the doctor, he was medically boarded in 2010 due to multiple chronic health problems. His last shift at the mine was on 30 October 2010, the termination form stating “Retirement”. Diagnosed with tuberculosis he was admitted to Kalafong Hospital, Pretoria, where he was successfully treated. Six months later, he returned home, ready to work again. At the request of his employers, Mncedisi obtained doctors letters testifying to his ability to resume employment. A medical examiner at Kalafong Hospital wrote, “Under controlled treatment he is fit to resume his normal duties.” Dr. B.R. Nene of Lonmin Medical Services at Andrew Saffy Hospital, wrote, “Mr M.K. Nkotha (sic) may not be considered for any underground work. He may be considered for surface work only.” To his dismay, the Rowland Shaft Human Capital Consultant responded, “The mine is already over compliment (sic), there is no way we can consider Mr Nkotha for re-employment, If there is a labour shortage at any shaft, we ask other shafts personnel to assist, not to employ.” By 2013, Mncedisi was still without employment. Mncedisi died from a stroke on 9 November 2014, at age 62. Nokhwezi says, “What makes my husband pass away is the stress and trauma of not working because he was thinking of his children.” Nokhwezi had hoped her son would step into his father’s shoes, but was told they no longer replace the deceased with their children. With very little in compensation for her husband’s death, and nowhere to house her family, she now faces eviction. Attempts at forced removal have seen her furniture strewn on the street, but Nokhwezi refuses to leave the Lonmin home. With the help of several families in a similar predicament they have acquired the services of lawyer fighting to protect their right to live here.

© Ilan Godfrey - A cow lies dead in a polluted mine stream, Ditwebeleng, Eastern Limb
i

A cow lies dead in a polluted mine stream, Ditwebeleng, Eastern Limb

© Ilan Godfrey - Image from the The Platinum belt photography project
i

Mishack Mampuru, 68, currently owns 15 head of cattle – 5 dead, 1 miscarriage Thabang Mampa, 60, currently owns 11 head of cattle – 18 dead, 3 miscarriages Philemon Mabiletse, 70, currently own 0 head of cattle – 20 dead, 0 miscarriages Herdsmen from the Morapaneng, Dithabaneng and Ditwebeleng communities are concerned for the safety and wellbeing of their livestock. Since the arrival of mining operations in the area, they have seen a steady deterioration in the health of their cattle, with death and miscarriage an ongoing concern. “We used to enjoy plentiful grazing land and clean drinking water – there were no problems,” muses Thobajane M Phineas, 55, from Morapaneng, recalling the pre-mining days. “But immediately after they started to mine, fences were erected and roads were laid, destroying trees that our animals relied on for shelter during times of sunshine and rain.” The herdsmen believe the main source of their woes is what appears to be a polluted stream that flows from Twickenham Platinum Mine’s Hackney Shaft. Channelled by muddy banks well-trodden by cattle hooves, this lifeless body of water flows into the nearby Motse River. A once thriving and powerful tributary that provided much-needed drinking water to man and beast alike across the Sekhukhune region is today no more than a small, murky rivulet. Salt deposits line the rocks in the shallows as people eke out small quantities of sulphate-laden water for cooking and drinking. Thobejane and his fellow herdsmen have no other choice but to accept that platinum mining on their land is here to stay. “We ask if the mine can build us a camp where we can kraal our cattle, give them a safe place to stay and provide containers of clean drinking water so they never again drink the water flowing from the mine.” Thobejane sighs, “We are sick like the cattle”. He is uncertain what the future holds. But he knows their lives and livelihoods are at great risk.

© Ilan Godfrey - Image from the The Platinum belt photography project
i

Water-filled open cast pit, Phashaskraal Mosotsi Village, Eastern Limb In the early summer heat, young children from the Phashaskraal Mosotsi Village are drawn to the tranquil waters of a nearby abandoned open cast pit owned by Bokoni Platinum Mine (and operated by subcontractor Benhaus Mining), in which an inviting pool of water has collected. It was here that tragic events unfolded on Monday, 31 October 2016 when Kamogelo Makgopa, 15, sadly drowned. A short walk from the community, the site has been unfenced and unmanned since operations ceased a number of years ago following the death of a resident of the same village who was struck by a rock during blasting. The community remains troubled by the loss of life that has beset them since mining operations began, and describe how only after the drowning, a small fence was swiftly erected around the open cast pit.

© Ilan Godfrey - Image from the The Platinum belt photography project
i

Phindile Sekome, 23, Ga-Kgwete Village, Eastern Limb With the global platinum market surging in recent years, local government has prioritised the development of the platinum-rich Dilokong Corridor, with a view to generating infrastructure investment, job creation and other economic opportunities for communities in the region. Phindile Sekome, 23, who shares a small homestead with her grandmother and younger sisters in the Dilokong Corridor in the village of Ga-Kgwete, welcomes development in the area, but not to the detriment of her home or her family’s well being. In 2004, Lebalelo Water Association were contracted by government to lay approximately 180kms of pipeline for the supply of raw water to mining operations in the area. One of these underground pipes would run adjacent to the homes of five families in the Ga-Kgwete Village, among them, Phindile’s grandmother’s homestead. Phindile recalls how explosives were used to break through the rocky ground, resulting in irreparable damage to property in the vicinity. Burdened with having to patch up the crack-riddled walls, the affected families voiced their grievances to local leadership and the company responsible. After years of gridlock, negotiations with Labelelo Water Association finally began in 2016, with the successful construction of five new homes that same year. Although Phindile is grateful for their new home, she remains unsettled. Questions persist as to whether the new home built on her grandmother’s land is legally theirs. With no documents to prove this and her grandmother’s current frail state, she worries where, after her passing, they will live if forced to move. And thirteen years since an extensive network of water-carrying pipeline was laid under her feet, Phindile continues to collect the family’s daily supply of water from the communal borehole several metres behind their home.

© Ilan Godfrey - Image from the The Platinum belt photography project
i

Aloe Castanea, Morapaneng Village, Eastern Limb Aloe Castanea – known as “Sekgopa” by locals – is used in traditional medicine for various ailments. It grows on the hills and rocky outcrops of the Sekhukhune region of Limpopo Province. Over the years, Humphrey Mokwala of the neighbouring Ga-Mashabela village has seen a noticeable change in the region’s flora and fauna. “Since the mines came here, I can tell you there are certain trees on our ploughing field that have changed in structure, and are now brownish in colour. This may be a result of climate change, which is influenced by the mine. Chemicals from the smelter or refinery as well as underground operations may be affecting our trees. This has a negative impact on our livelihood as certain trees are utilised for medicinal purposes within our community. I haven’t seen our government taking the climate change programme to the communities – why can’t they do that? People of this area don’t know about climate change at all.”

© Ilan Godfrey - Image from the The Platinum belt photography project
i

Mmaditlhokwa township, Marikana, Western Limb As the day draws to a close, young men gather on the mine dumps that overlook the community of Mmaditlhokwa township, Marikana. New friendships are formed and fervent discussion is at times interrupted by the sudden deafening shudder of explosives being detonated on the horizon. An open cast pit known as the “Western Pit” lies precariously close to human habitation, bringing with it noise pollution and an overbearing cloud of dust with every bang. Depending on the direction of the wind, toxic fumes often engulf the community. Not long ago, Spruitfontein was a small agrarian village where farmers and farm labourers alike benefitted from the rich arable surrounds and abundant grazing land. Things began to change in 2008, with the purchase of the farm by Tharisa Minerals. Homes were demolished, families relocated and the soil churned in search of platinum-rich deposits deep underground. Today, everybody is a stranger in Mmaditlhokwa Township. Some remember what life was like in these parts before the mines but even the “old-timers” have resigned themselves to their new home. Across a sprawling bare and dusty landscape, new shelters continue to pop up daily – two-room zinc houses glinting under the harsh Limpopo sun, the luxuriant vegetation and shade that once existed here now consigned to memory. For those travelling from far and wide across Southern Africa, the road to Rustenburg is the chance to make one’s fortune in a place of opportunity and wealth. Young and old journey from as far as Lesotho, the Free State, Lethabong, Miriting and Taung, gradually acclimatising to a more dreary reality, their hopes buried deep in the ground, their reliance on the mine absolute.

© Ilan Godfrey - Image from the The Platinum belt photography project
i

Palesa Pearl Mphakisane, 29, commercial sex worker, Marikana West, Marikana, Western Limb Originally from Lirebe in Lesotho, Palesa moved to the Free State as a young girl. Growing up there had its challenges and after losing her guardian parents and enduring difficulties at home she decided to quit school. “Its not like I ran away,” she says. “I just wanted a better place to do things on my own.” Moving to Carletonville, a gold mining town in western Gauteng, would later lead her on the path to the dusty townships of Marikana. “When I first arrived, I didn’t know about prostitution. A friend told us so many things about life and how to make money, we were always looking for a real job. I am still looking for a real job and hoping to get it, this life that we are living is what we want for the rest of our lives.” For now, the anonymity helps her cope. “We feel free here, there are no people from home who can see us or who know us, so at least here we can do it.” Palesa says the money she earns from sex work is put towards saving to go to school next year. “There's a nursing course that I want to do, so I thought, well, there's nobody to help me, so I've decided to do it myself.” Since her arrival in Rustenburg back in 2014, she has faced many challenges as a sex worker. She says that men from the mines are full of false promises. “It’s not like a mine official will come to you and say ‘let’s have sex and ill give you a job’. It’s more like they want you to quit this thing you’re doing, offering you a job in exchange for not paying for sex. You accept the offer because you want to believe them, but deep down you know you’re never going to get that job.” For Palesa and her friends, the work they do is fraught with danger, leaving them vulnerable to sexual assault, robbery and murder.

© Ilan Godfrey - Image from the The Platinum belt photography project
i

Malcolm Ngcobo, 36, Ga-Luka Village, Northern Limb In the 1960s, the 27000 acres of land predominantly owned by the Bafokeng Tribe (now known as the Royal Bafokeng Nation) were signed over to form the Impala Platinum mining company. Ga-Luka is one of 29 villages that make up the Royal Bafokeng Nation, and it was here that Malcolm was born on 8 August 1980. Now 36, he has lived a troubled existence, battling to provide for his family and thwarted at every attempt to obtain employment on the mines that have built up around him. To survive he has resorted to bits-and-pieces jobs. One of these involved collecting fragments of broken mine equipment and other waste metal – from an illegal dumping ground on the outskirts of the village the community claim was created by Impala Platinum – which he would then sell as scrap. In 1999, he was falsely accused by the scrapyard he was selling to of stealing money from them. He was 19 at the time and spent 18 months prison for a crime he never committed. This would be the first of fifteen arrests to plague his life. Even though his innocence was subsequently established, Malcolm’s name and reputation were forever tarnished. He describes how in returning to his village the community immediately marked him as a criminal. He also believes he has been blacklisted as an instigator by the mine because of his arrest 18 years ago. He describes how, whenever there is a protest in the community, he is one of the first to be arrested, even if he was not there that day – though he attributes this to bribery and corruption within Ga-Luka. “I don’t know who goes to the police but there are those who stab us in the back, when we fight for the community.” Over the years, he has suffered regular beatings and abuse at the hands of the police. Many young men share Malcolm’s fate – desperate to survive, disenfranchised, traditional values breaking down without the farming their forefathers could rely on to provide a livelihood and maintain their dignity. The new generation have had no other option but to fight for work, participating in protests targeted at the mine, and in so doing, often ruining their only chance at gainful employment. There is a sense of discontent in these men; they feel alienated by the influx of people from other parts of South Africa who move into the community to work on the mines. The migrants rent back rooms in their yards – often the only source of income for many in the village now that they are without their farms. But they also have sexual relations with their sisters and bring with them sexually transmitted diseases, and locals feel that they are given undue precedence for mining jobs. “We are always sending our CV,” says Malcolm, “but I am telling you, a person from the Transkei will come and be my tenant, tomorrow after five days he gets a job.”

© Ilan Godfrey - Image from the The Platinum belt photography project
i

Protest, 6 October 2016, Ikemeleng, Marikana, Western Limb The R104 road bears the charred remains of a community protest earlier that morning. In the twilight hours of Thursday 6 October, the smell of burning rubber and dark clouds of smoke rise above a group of men and women gathered to voice their concerns. The sprawling mining community of Ikemeleng in Kroondal, seven kilometres outside Rustenburg on the Western Limb of the Platinum Belt, forms the nexus of six mining companies – Lonmin, Xstrata, Samancor, Lanxess, Aquarius and Anglo American. Once the small rural farming village of the Mahermane and Baphalane people, since the establishment of these mines in the 1990s, the area has grown into an overpopulated informal settlement. Ikemeleng remains a flashpoint for people seeking employment and a better way of life, many journeying at great risk from all over Africa in search of financial opportunities. Yet in an already congested area that continues to grow rapidly, problems are also multiplying. Besides a lack of basic services, substance abuse, HIV/Aids and other STDs, rape, underage pregnancy and xenophobia are all rife, while the overbearing pressure of unemployment brings with it prostitution and crime. Historically, protest in South Africa has been a formidable tool in the fight for change – a collective voice heard by all. This is certainly the case in the mining sector, where the disruption of mining and municipal operations by people from communities like Ikemeleng has become commonplace.

© Ilan Godfrey - Image from the The Platinum belt photography project
i

Tshepo Highlight Khoza, 39, AMCU Worker Organiser, Monametse Village, Monametsane Section, Eastern Limb Passionate and outspoken, espousing views that some might deem controversial, Tshepo, 39, is a self-described AMCU “worker organiser” at Bokoni Platinum Mine. When the Marikana strikes erupted in August 2012 on the Western Limb near Rustenburg, the air of unrest spread across the platinum belt, with mining communities as far as the Northern and Eastern Limb taking up protest action of their own. Feeling compelled to show solidarity with his comrades and fellow miners, Tshepo helped transport AMCU committee members to the unfolding strikes that had already taken the lives of several striking miners, police and security personnel. He believes this is what may have led Bokoni Platinum Mine officials into thinking he was a threat to mining operations. A few months later, on his arrival at work, Tshepo was seized by mine security and paraded as a criminal and enemy of the mine. In a state of bewilderment, Tshepo assured them he held no mining property in his possession. Mine security and HR personnel proceeded to question Tshepo about the guns and explosives allegedly in his possession that were stolen in 2012 at Marikana and were to be used in an attack on Bokoni Platinum mine. He protested his innocence to no avail, as police waiting outside the gates took him into custody. After searching his vehicle and finding nothing, they drove to his home, where his wife and three-month-old child were resting. Tshepo describes how they “barged in” and how “with my hands tied, they beat me”. Dogs and police searched top to bottom. Again, no guns or explosives were found, but they did find marijuana and alcohol. Tshepo was taken to the mine barracks where he was choked and forced to write a letter stating his plans to bomb the mine. He was threatened with arrest for possession of marijuana – a charge he was willing to accept – but refused to sign the letter. Soon after the incident, Tshepo opened a case against the officers, but nearly four years later, no charges have been brought against them. Indeed, in 2016 police and mine security targeted his home once again, this time damaging property and beating a tenant who was renting a room in the house. No explanation was given as to why they were there or what they wanted.

© Ilan Godfrey - Image from the The Platinum belt photography project
i

Marikana Alive Restaurant, Wonderkop, Marikana, Western Limb Alcoholism is rife in mining communities across the platinum belt. With limited recreational facilities available and high unemployment, men and women congregate in these spaces to pass the time and dull their distress.

© Ilan Godfrey - Image from the The Platinum belt photography project
i

Morapaneng Home Community Based Care, Morapaneng Village, Eastern Limb Mathabatha Lillian, 37 years, lives in Morapaneng (Working areas include Modimole and Ditwebeleng) Naughty Thobejane, 49 years, lives in Ditwebeleng (Working areas include Ditwebeleng) For the women of Morapaneng Home Community Based Care, their lives centre on identifying those that are sick, frail and in need of medical treatment. Building relationships with the local clinic, they write referral letters, prescribe medicine, and encourage community members to be tested for high blood pressure, diabetes and HIV/Aids. Naughty finds that there are some who live a secret life. HIV/Aids is frowned upon, and sufferers are viewed with fear and suspicion in the staunch traditional communities that remain the backbone of those living in the villages of the Sekhukhune Region. Myths about the disease proliferate. The sense of shame is inescapable and many retreat into denial or deception. She says women are particularly at risk. “Men who arrive to work on the mine, they have a lot of money and women are struggling; there is no work, we are unemployed, and so we sleep with these men who in return give us financial security.” Without knowledge and understanding of the risks involved many women contract sexually transmitted diseases, fall pregnant, and on closure of the mine, are left with fatherless children and diseases they know very little about. Nurse Magdeline Modibane, who heads up the Ga-Mashabela Clinic, says the situation isn’t getting any better. “I started working here in 2010. HIV/Aids was scarce, but since then I have seen a steady increase. Women accommodate men who work on the mines, who promise to provide for their family in return for sex.” For Nurse Magdeline and Naughty the challenge now is to raise funds in the hope that they can distribute information and develop workshops, raising awareness of the risks women continue to face in this predatory landscape.

© Ilan Godfrey - Image from the The Platinum belt photography project
i

Jane Mogotlwa, 49, Motlhotlo Village, Mapela, Northern Limb Jane still holds onto what is left of her homestead in the Motlhotlo village. She has lived here her whole life and is one of a small number of remaining families that are under increasing pressure to relocate and make way for the rapidly expanding RPM Mogalakwena Section Platinum Mine’s northern open pit. The old Motlhotlo village was once made up of two villages, Ga-Puka and Ga-Sekhaolelo. In 1998, Amplats began negotiations with the Mapela Tribal Authority, under the leadership of the Kgoshigadi Atalia Thabantsi Langa, with a view to relocate the two communities. Relocation Steering Committees were formed and Section 21 companies brought on board to assist in the relocation process, with the relocation finally commencing in May 2007, as families were relocated to Armoede and Rooibokfontein. Some, like Jane, opted to remain in their ancestral homes. That decision has come at a cost. Every day, these families that hinder the expansion of the mine’s northern open pit are burdened with the unyielding roar of mine trucks as they dump rubble and rock several metres from their homes. They watch as mountains of mine waist slowly encroach on what is left of their land. Jane is concerned about the impact her current living conditions have had on the health of her family, and believes the noise and dust have inflicted irreparable damage to her eyes, ears and lungs. With no ploughing fields and no regular supply of water, she knows she will soon be faced with the prospect of having to move. She stands firm, however, refusing to relocate until her family are offered quality housing – including the title deeds to their new home and land. She also wants surety her child will be given a job on the mine.

© Ilan Godfrey - Image from the The Platinum belt photography project
i

Otto Lekalakala, 67, Newtown section, Bapong, Western Limb Bapong, a sprawling village with a population of approximately 40 000, is the epicentre of the Bapo Ba Mogale royal community. The Bapo people first settled here around 200 years ago on land that holds some of the richest platinum deposits in the world. Lonmin was established here in 1970 on the basis of a lease agreement to pay the community royalties on the minerals extracted. Otto arrived in Bapong in 1989, working at the now-closed Newman Shaft for eleven years as an underground rigger, before moving to the “change house”, where he saw out the remainder of his working years. Now a pensioner, Otto is an active representative and concerned resident of Bapong’s Newtown section. In 2015, he was summoned to the royal palace, shortly after presenting a letter he had signed on behalf of the community pertaining to various grievances. These grievances included Newtown councillors not performing their duties, lack of employment opportunities, and members of the tribal authority not participating in meetings with the chiefs to hear the community’s concerns. Adding to the general air of dissatisfaction among the community, a controversial R664m equity deal had recently been signed between Lonmin and the royal council, which would see mineral royalties converted into company shares. Otto was among those who voiced dissatisfaction with the agreement, believing the community would not benefit. This, he believes, also strained his relations with the royal palace. On his arrival, Otto stood before a chamber of more than 100 people who quizzed him on the grievances contained in his letter. Upon insisting they speak directly to the community about them, Otto claims senior members of the Bapo Ba Mogale Tribal Authority proceeded to beat him. A friend later took him to a local clinic, where he was treated for a fractured left hand and contusions to his body. Otto says he went with witnesses to the meeting who have refused to testify about the beating, claiming they were bribed to keep quiet. He breaks down in tears as he reveals that family members working at the royal palace were present but didn’t intervene when he was attacked. He opened a case at Mooinooi police station, but nothing has come of it. “I have reopened my case several times, and every time I go back, they say my case has been dropped and nobody is going to jail.” His daughter has since left Bapong for fear of reprisals, but for now, Otto is staying put. Community members claim that voicing concerns or gathering in groups of more than five to discuss community issues is restricted, and that even elderly people have been beaten and are afraid to testify and open cases. They say that in December, food parcels are given out to the people of Bapong as Christmas gifts, and those that speak out against the royal palace don’t receive them. Meanwhile, Otto’s injuries continue to give him pain and discomfort, and disturb his sleep. He says he has lost hope, yet he remains defiant. “They can do whatever they want with me, I don’t care because I know I didn’t fault anybody, even if they can kill me, it’s okay.”

© Ilan Godfrey - Image from the The Platinum belt photography project
i

Fraser Alexander Tailings (Lonmin – Western Plats – Dam 5 Tailings Complex), Wonderkop, Marikana, Western Limb Storm clouds hang overhead as strong winds carry dust tailings into the community. Informal settlements around mining operations in Marikana and the surrounds have been directly affected by dust pollution, further exacerbated in windy conditions. Dust suppression systems have been installed on the tailings in an attempt to control high dust levels. However, with communities living in close proximity to these tailings, the efficacy of such systems is limited. Community members complain that the high dust levels contaminate food and water, and many children in the area suffer from asthma and other respiratory-related illnesses. Professor Eugene Cairncross from the Cape Peninsula University of Technology writes, “Health impacts from dust include breathing and respiratory systems, damage to lung tissue, cancer and premature death.” Johannes Mokwena, 74, has lived in Wonderkop his whole life. He has contracted tuberculosis several times and is currently on chronic medication for the disease. He blames the tailings for his health problems. “You see the dust, it sometimes blows into the village. We are constantly cleaning this place. We spray water and it settles the dust, but most of the time, that’s not the problem; if it’s not the dust particles from the tailings it’s the smoke that comes from the smelter. This is why a lot of people in this area are not healthy.”

© Ilan Godfrey - Image from the The Platinum belt photography project
i

Surface mine ventilation shafts, Marikana, Western Limb Jerry Chen-Jen Tien writes in Practical Mine Ventilation Engineering: “…lack of proper ventilation often will cause lower worker efficiency and decreased productivity, increased accident rates and absenteeism… [Whereas] a well designed and properly implemented ventilation system will provide beneficial physiological and psychological side effects that enhance employee safety, comfort, health, and morale.” Providing much needed extraction of pollutants from operations deep underground (including diesel emissions, blasting fumes, radiation, dust, battery emissions, and many other contaminants), these ominous structures stand like giant lungs across the platinum belt. A relentless hum and heady smell envelops the surrounds as invisible pollutants are released day and night into the communities that share the land above ground. “This ventilation shaft is very close to us,” says Ephraim Masekgaole Mphethi of Mantjakane Village on the Eastern Limb. “Immediately after a blast, the smell comes over to us – that smell, we don’t know how dangerous it is to our lives. No one is trying to monitor our lives...”

Latest Projects

Sign up to our weekly newsletter

Stay in the loop


We will send you weekly news on contemporary photography. You can change your mind at any time. We will treat your data with respect. For more information please visit our privacy policy. By ticking here, you agree that we may process your information in accordance with them. This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.