The Konka (inkonkxa)

 

In Johannesburg during the 1960s and 1970s the townships on the outskirts of the city became blanketed with thick smoke every winter evening. The cold began to set in around mid-May every year and the black working class would haul out their trusty old drums that had been repurposed as heating devices. The ubiquitous “konka” was usually a five gallon (approximately 25 litres) tin drum with holes knocked out all around it. An old oil, paint or water container would suffice as a receptacle for wood, coal or anthracite that could be coaxed into a raging fire. The konka would often be elevated on bricks to encourage air flow through holes that were gouged into the bottom of the drum. Around the konkas would inevitably be a gathering of bitterly cold, shivering bodies as night began to enfold the township residents.

During  winter months the temperature regularly dropped below freezing point (32° F/0° C). Township residents would light these fires and nurse them throughout the hours of darkness, then squeeze remaining heat out of the last embers at the coldest time of day – just after sunrise. Some foolhardy folk took the konkas indoors when they retired to bed – often with dreadful results. Starved of oxygen in the shacks, families periodically succumbed to carbon monoxide poisoning, or accidentally set their dwellings and those of neighbours alight. In these townships people lived cheek by jowl, resulting in runaway fires gutting whole neighbourhoods. In shacks or small huts where fires were lit for warmth, carbon monoxide levels would slowly rise as oxygen was depleted. As CO (Carbon Monoxide) is a tad lighter than normal air, it diffuses readily in a closed room and appears to rise. The effect was that those sleeping closer to the ground expired first. It is thought that this phenomenon might have given rise to the myth of the Tokoloshe – a little creature or malevolent evil spirit that wrings the life out of sleeping souls. In most township shacks beds would be elevated on bricks, to prevent the mischievous spirit from killing people in their bunks.

Outside the shacks, people would gravitate towards the fires in the lit konkas. Some would wear shabby coats and balaclavas, others wrapped themselves in cheap blankets. In South Africa during that dispensation, black working class people were desperately poor, but resilient despite economic deprivation. Theirs was a powerlessness thrust upon them by the harsh reality of their exclusion from the organs of government, which could have lifted them out of their dire poverty. In the poorest quarters  electricity was not an option, hence the total reliance on fire for cooking, lighting and warmth. With the flames came both the danger of asphyxiation or devastating burns, and a unique social cohesion born of communal suffering together with delightful congeniality. Traditional, home brewed sorghum beer did much to lubricate a community with limited access to material comforts. Many a story was recalled and retold around the lapping flames. Tongues were loosened by the intoxicating liquid and neighbourhoods became close-knit, sharing and caring. Sadly, there were also occasions that the congeniality gave way to disagreements and altercations, as in any society brought together by shared circumstances but not shared backgrounds. Johannesburg’s townships were melting pots of disparate cultures, customs, religions and languages.  

The result of the proliferation of konkas in the townships, on the corners of streets or where they were providing warmth to night watchmen in their khaki outfits in central Johannesburg, was that smoke billowed out of them, giving rise to a smoky haze that settled over the city. Try as they would to beat back the cold, the highveld freeze fought relentlessly to make miserable lives even more unbearable. Cutting through the thick atmosphere could be heard tunes from pennywhistles or the mournful intonations of voices being lifted in song. In the distance the odd township dog would set off a doleful wail that gave the sense of a supporting harmony. They seemed to be whining about the pitiful struggles of poor residents, many of whom had migrated to the city to generate financial support for families in the deep rural backwaters of the homelands from which they hailed. The winter breeze had the effect of carrying the wails long distances to the suburbs in which many women eked out a living as struggling domestic workers  and carers of other people’s children. Their own youngsters in the townships largely had to fend for themselves without adequate adult supervision most days and touched sides with their own parents briefly around the konkas in the evenings. In these communities adults generally took it upon themselves to help raise the community kids – those gogos (grandmothers) who remained in the shacks during working hours meting out discipline and correcting wayward behaviour in the absence of parents. 

The communal konka sometimes showed up atop the multitude of apartment blocks where service workers were often accommodated. Brought together by their employment as cleaning staff in these buildings, they shared tales of their disparate childhood memories. Talk would often turn to politics, their economic woes and their anxious desire to acquire the relative wealth they observed as mere onlookers in the offices and homes where they rendered their service. Often the employers would carelessly speak about matters that riled the workers upon whose labour much of the wealth was being built. These insights would be discussed around the fires, in no small measure stirring up the indignation with which they viewed their shared experience.

The konkas around which the disaffected were gathered served as impromptu political platforms, recruitment spots for banned or suppressed militant movements whose aim was to untangle the web of deprivation in which these folk found themselves. The konkas became a tool in the ideological schooling of the working classes in South Africa. The black smoke that billowed out and settled over the city at dusk, spoke of a foreboding of things to come. The birth of a restive push back against exclusion, powerlessness and economic struggle can be traced back to the informal setting in which political proselytization germinated seeds of discontent.

The humble konka around which congeniality, reasoned arguments, fierce disagreements and a lively community spirit came to fruition, should not be underestimated. It was a focal point around which ideas were lit that led to the decade of upheaval that plagued the ‘80s. It sparked a singleness of purpose that upended an entire system and sent the country in an entirely new direction.

©Paul M Haupt