Competition for resources

Tomorrow is Youth Day and South African NGOs are in overdrive; themed public holidays are gold in terms of fun pictures to send to funders. But in an area like Khayelitsha, where there are more NGOs than flush toilets, organizations run into a little snag: not enough community participants to go round. And hells, there are even those community members who just don't want to participate. Criiiisis! This morning at the EWC, I sat knitting with the seniors. We sat outside the bungalow today, on the little stoep with our backs to the sun, giggling and drinking tea. The centre itself was empty, much to the great distress of the centre manager. They had planned a Youth Day celebration, and no one had come. The ex-manager was, as always, being blamed, but she's got used to the blame game and has perfected an arched response: "well, actually, it's no longer my job."

Ma'Monica waved to me from across the grassy patch separating the bungalow and the centre, "Ntombezaaaaan, yizapha!*" I had my knitting, my tea and an absence of centre politics, but when Ma'Monica shouts, it's not my place to say no. "What's up?" I ask her as I shuffled over. She rattles off a list of instructions.

I started with the first one: make a sign. I've become a pro at this, with just scrappy newsprint and permanent markers. I joined the rest of the team in the kitchen while the manager flapped in and out. As we edged further and further past the start time of the event, and the hall still lay empty, she finally flipped. "Go and find people outside, tell them to come in." Tabs and the other sandwich-makers mumble in Xhosa, the manager can't understand. But she gets the gist.
"I'm being serious," she says a little more harshly now, "management is going to be here in ten minutes and there's no one. Go and call the community."
Someone tries to explain that there are a number of events going on today, and that the centre usually works with older people, like the seniors, so will have little draw for younger members. The manager is unpersuaded.
"Go to the school," she directs us. You can see the primary school from the kitchen window, "go and get the Grade 7s."
I'm not about to take kids out of class to get them to come and perform for Management so I stay where I am, adding a careful colour outline to my black-lettered sign.
But Tabs has a job to do, so she leads the other women out and they split up. Some patrol the streets outside, some head to the school. I try to embed as much of a stink-eye as I can in the smile I give to the manager.

Soon 'participants' start dribbling in. Some in school uniform, some recruited from the corner opposite the church where they usually sit and smoke. But it's not enough. So the manager comes out to where I'm sitting with the seniors. Usually on days like these, the seniors are under strict instruction to stay outside. But times are desperate.
"Don't you want to join in?" she asks.
I giggle as I listen to Ma'Noms' response, "No, not really." I know she's just making the manager sweat; the seniors will go.
"Are you sure?" a desperate plea in her eyes, "you're not interested?"
I wish the ma's had held out for longer, but they're too sweet, too kind, too agreeable.
"No, it's fine," replies Ma'Noms, "we'll come. We'll come just now."
Another eight seats filled.

I sidle up to the ex-manager in the hall, she starts to laugh.
"Why are you laughing Lu?"
"Hah, I must keep young!" she replies.
"Mmm," I start to laugh too.
She pulls me closer to her and stands with her arm around my shoulders and starts to whisper, telling me just what she feels like telling her managerial replacement...


*Come here my girl!