2023-09-17 00:31:05
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I'm Aisha Roscoe, and this is a Sunday Story.
On this episode, we head to South Africa, an economic powerhouse on the African continent.
For decades, South Africa's enormous electric grid has relied on coal.
Now the country is in the midst of a massive experiment to switch to renewable energy.
This change is expected to vastly reduce pollution, but it may also ruin towns and lives in the
Coal Belt of South Africa.
For some workers, it feels like the government is destroying their only foothold to a stable
life.
Radio Workshop is a podcast that collaborates with youth reporters at radio stations across
Africa.
Host Lesete Mwakle sent a youth reporter along with a senior producer to a town in the heart
of the Coal Belt to ask the question, what will happen to people who've built their lives
around coal?
It's Sunday lunch at this kossana's home.
Nontogozo lays out a feast for her family, her two children and her husband, Adam, who
loves the pork ribs.
I like the ribs that is done by ourselves here at home, by my wife.
This kossana's live in Creel in the northeast of South Africa.
Creel is a small town in an area considered the Coal Belt region.
Its biggest employer is the coal industry.
Look up any images of Creel on the internet and you'll see lots of pictures of huge power
plants spewing smoke.
This kossana's live a modest yet comfortable life here.
They own a charming three bedroom house.
They have a large family car.
Their kids are in school.
They're not struggling to make ends meet and they owe it all to coal.
My parents are very hard workers, especially my dad.
Also my mother.
Ferzaga is 18 years old and she's the first person in this kossana family to attend university.
It's a huge expense and so there's a lot riding on her.
But Ferzaga isn't interested in a career in coal like so many other young people in this
region.
She believes that one day she'll be a successful lawyer.
It's something that I always wanted to do because I didn't see myself as living in Creel
forever.
But when Ferzaga's mom Ntogozo was the same age, she was thrilled to get a job in the
coal industry.
It was luck for me.
I was very lucky because some of the people, they never, never, never work in their entire
lives.
Ntogozo moved to Creel in the early 2000s, all the way from a rural village called Nongoma
in the province of KwaZulu-Natal, where well-paid jobs for black people are hard to come by.
At that time, Creel was among the fastest growing towns in the country.
There were plenty of jobs, in the coal mines or at the handful of coal-fired power stations
in the area.
It only took Ntogozo a few months to land a job at Creel Power Station, which is operated
by South Africa's state-owned power utility, Eskom.
Ntogozo was hired as a cleaning supervisor.
She also clearly remembers the day and exact time she met her husband, Adam, while working
at the plant 20 years ago.
Do you remember the day you met him?
It was on Saturday, around half past eleven.
Really?
Hey, mama, how are you?
Very well.
And he said, hi, my name is Boye.
Back then, Adam went by Boye, that's his first name.
But now, as a father of two, he prefers to be called by his middle name, Adam.
Adam was born in Creel, on a farm on the outskirts of town.
In grade 10, he dropped out of high school.
He was 19 then, but he easily found a job at the Creel Power Station in 1984, as a fitter.
Adam maintained and serviced the station's water treatment equipment.
I'm 58 years old now, and I'm still working at Creel Power Station.
But that could be over pretty soon.
A sweeping change is about to engulf all of Creel, and South Africa, and the rest of the world.
There's a radical transition coming to the energy industry, and so it didn't take long
for this Kausana Sunday lunch conversation to shift from food to the closure of the power station.
The proposal is that Creel is closing down in 2030.
So how many, it's seven years gone.
The government's seen it, on the newspapers.
South Africa's the biggest polluter of greenhouse gases on the African continent.
Nearly 80% of the emissions come from energy.
But if all goes according to plan, the entire energy sector in South Africa will be rewired.
Renewable energy will replace coal, a transition intended to dramatically reduce carbon emissions.
And it's inevitable.
Coal is going away.
But what happens to the people who have built their lives on coal?
The world is watching to see how Creel, and families like the Kausanas, are going to do it.
In the best-case scenario, South Africa's drive towards renewable energy will deliver
new and better jobs.
It'll protect the environment.
It'll make energy cheaper.
People will have their voices heard.
And some of the wounds they've suffered in the past will be healed.
Experts call that a just transition.
But Adam doubts the transition will succeed.
He says there won't be new jobs.
What do you think will happen to this town if the coal mines and the power stations shut down?
It's going to be a ghost town.
Adam's not alone in thinking this.
A lot of people are worried that they've already been forgotten.
I'm Lisette Mokwate.
This is Radio Workshop.
To tell this story, producer Darshan Moodley and reporter Sia Mokwena spent several days
in Creel.
And they had one central question in mind during their reporting.
What do you think will happen to your family without coal?
Ish, I can't even answer it because our life is surrounded by coal.
Yeah, it's going to be very hard.
It's going to be very hard.
Every morning, for decades, before he leaves for work at the power plant, Adam puts on
his PPE.
That's personal protection equipment.
It is gumboots, socks, trousers and a top.
He grabs a bus, arrives a few minutes early, has a cup of tea, puts on his hard hat and
gloves and starts work at 7 a.m.
Adam's had a lot of different jobs at the power plant.
After a few years in one division, he'd get a promotion.
A few years later, he'd get another.
Today, he works with coal ash.
That's one of the byproducts from burning coal.
It's Adam's job to prevent it from escaping into the atmosphere.
Because we are not supposed to pollute a lot of ash.
When Creel Power Station was completed in 1979, it was celebrated as the first of the
new generation of giants.
It was the largest coal-fired power station in the Southern Hemisphere.
It was equipped with six 500-megawatt units.
That could power over a million homes for a year.
Adam loves working at the Creel Power Station.
The work may be hard and he knows it's bad for the environment.
But his job is well paid.
He also receives good benefits for his family.
Are you good at your job?
I like my job.
I know my job as I know myself.
I know my job as I know myself, Adam says.
As the Skosanas mentioned earlier, the plant where they work is slated to close in 2030,
in just seven years.
In fact, the plant is already shrinking its operations.
And other plants in the region have already closed.
The government promises a just transition.
They say new jobs will be created in renewable energy projects to replace the coal plants.
But the community is worried it won't happen.
And Adam says people are already moving away.
How many people do you know have left Creel?
A lot.
Really?
Yeah.
And where do they go?
Cape Town.
Almost they are going to Cape Town.
Cape Town.
Cape Town.
Mecklenburg.
Free State.
Overseas.
Nowadays they are going to Australia.
Australia, New Zealand.
The government has hosted dozens of community meetings to explain the just transition.
But we found some residents don't show up because they are held in the middle of the day.
Others don't trust the government and refuse to go.
And frankly, a lot of people we've spoken to hadn't even heard the term just transition, including Adam.
What does the just transition mean to you?
That word, it's a new word to me, but I know this one, it's a little bit difficult for me to answer.
Were we the first people to tell you about just transition or had you heard it before?
No, it was my first time.
What impact do you think it's going to have on you and your family with this just transition going through?
Well, I really don't know.
I really don't know.
Adam also doubts whether renewables will work, but he thinks the country should give it a shot.
I think they can try, try this new renewable energy.
I know coal, carbon is affecting our lives.
What I can say maybe, let them try to accommodate both of them, balance them and see if it's going to work or not.
Unlike just taking coal away on the spot.
That one is going to affect a lot of people because people are going to lose their jobs as they are losing jobs right now.
And where are they going to work?
That's the biggest problem that we are facing right now.
Fezega, Adam's daughter, says the just transition could be a good thing for the environment.
But tens of thousands of people will lose their jobs.
She worries about finding work to support her family.
Her mom no longer works and her dad will have to retire in seven years.
They will have to rely on me and I'm still in school.
That means I'll have to drop out and get a job then.
It's devastating.
You're listening to The Sunday Story.
We'll be right back.
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We're back with The Sunday Story.
We're listening to Lesede Mwakle and her team at Radio Workshop in South Africa
tell the story of a family from a mining town east of Johannesburg.
The family and the town are trying to understand their future as the mine prepares to close
amid the country's transition away from fossil fuels.
Here's Lesede.
Adam hopes the just transition will force the coal mining industry
to give back the land it appropriated when coal was in high demand.
For generations, Adam's family lived on a huge farm on the outskirts of Creel.
He offers to take us there.
So, where are we going, Adam?
We are going on a farm now.
Torontine Farm. 71-AS.
It's the name of the farm and the number.
How often do you make this drive to the farm? How often do you go?
Maybe, per month, I will go there twice or three times.
The farm, or what's left of it, is at the end of a long dirt road
that's completely inaccessible with a regular car.
Fortunately, Adam has a 4x4 SUV.
The farm goes up there to these other trees there,
and it's all around, all around, all around.
The farm is a patch of land fenced in by rusty barbed wire
surrounded by hectares of rolling grasslands.
Cattle roam about in the distance, and there's a lone tree.
Beneath it, a corrugated iron shack that serves as housing for farm workers.
It has no piped water or electricity.
Even though Adam has access to the area, it's no longer his family's land.
It's owned by a coal mine.
When Adam's family lived here, they were considered labor tenants.
They worked in exchange for a portion of the land.
They raised cattle, grew crops, and built their homes.
But when a mining company bought the land,
the Skosanas were never made part of the deal.
The land they'd worked so hard for was simply taken away.
Okay.
This empty land, that's what we call home.
We are now at home.
Adam was raised on the farm by his parents and extended family.
He remembers seeing his uncles, aunts, and grandparents every day.
It's one, two, three, four, five, seven.
Seven houses from our family.
Many of his ancestors are also buried here too.
This one here is my grandmother.
Sophie. Sophie Skosana.
This one is my grandfather. His name is Janchi Skosana.
He died in 1975.
This one is his brother.
There are so many graves.
Some are marked with tombstones, others are not.
What it shows is a connection to this area, dating back to the 1800s.
That's six generations of Adam's family who've lived in Creel.
Some of them were the first farmers and herders in the area.
Adam's father was a farmer before becoming a contract worker at Eskom.
He poured concrete to build the foundations of the town's power stations.
There was also a house there.
Starting from here.
Somewhere around here it was a kitchen.
In here it was my father's room.
It was a dining room.
It was my sister's room.
Somewhere here.
You can see it on his face.
Adam longs for that time in his life.
He wants to go back to living on the farm.
But when the coal mine bought the land,
they heavily blasted the area to reach the coal underneath.
And as a result, his family's mud and brick houses cracked and collapsed.
How does it feel being here?
You know, I remember how the buildings were.
It's painful.
It's painful.
The land.
Where is this?
Okay.
It's a little bit mixed up now.
But it's in there.
It should be here.
Yes.
In front of me I've got the documents
concerning the claim of the farm, Torfantin 71.
That's where we were born and bred.
Adam says a just transition will mean the return of his land.
But that fight has been going on for almost half his life.
The proof that I have, I think, is this one.
The first claim that has been done.
The first one was in 1996.
Adam believes he has all the necessary paperwork to prove his family's claim.
It's just that my papers are mixed up now.
He even hired a lawyer to make the case.
But Adam says whenever he's spoken with representatives at the mines,
they deny his ownership.
So the mine is saying they don't owe you anything?
Thousands of miles from Creel and the Skosannas,
France, Germany, the United Kingdom and the United States,
along with the European Union,
are backing South Africa's decarbonisation efforts.
They are committing $8.5 billion
towards the first phase of transition to renewables.
It sounds like a lot,
but it's only a fraction of what the country needs
to turn off coal and shift to renewables.
A lot more money is needed to create jobs
to absorb the layoffs that will happen in coal.
Money will be needed to consult with communities
and provide social welfare for those who need it.
And money will be needed for one more thing.
In South Africa, we call it restorative justice,
so people like Adam get back what was taken from them.
And that's where we're saying,
how do we deal with the historical injustice?
Gaylo Montmartin-Clerc is a senior economist
at Trade and Industrial Policy Strategies.
It's a research institute
that supports the development of economic policies.
Gaylo leads their work on the just transition
and restorative justice.
And that is something that's come very strongly
in the South African context,
which doesn't feature in the global north context.
They don't talk about restorative justice in the global north.
Gaylo wrote parts of South Africa's just transition framework.
That's government's planning tool.
He says in a perfect world,
the plan is to leave no one behind.
Leave no one behind.
I'm like, hello?
Most people are behind.
They're already behind.
It's not just about leaving no one behind.
We have to bring everyone already to some level
before we can take them along.
Which means a just transition would need to address
those past injustices while tackling new ones.
That's a big, nearly impossible task, he says.
Take Adam's land claims case.
It was lodged almost two decades ago.
Nothing has happened.
Much of it is due to the backlog of claims
and the lack of staff and resources to process it.
Claims go on for years due to disputes, fraud and corruption.
Gaylo says he witnessed the frustrations with government firsthand
at a public stakeholder meeting in a coal town.
He watched residents grab the mic to raise all kinds of complaints,
from housing to water.
It was all about daily issues.
It was like, your just transition feels very distant to me right now
because I can't put bread on the table,
I don't have water, I don't have electricity,
and you're talking to me about just transition.
We wanted to know about the future of Creole
and the future of jobs.
Will there be enough?
We approached local politicians in Creole.
We reached out to a few academics working on renewables.
We made several attempts to speak to ESCOM,
the state-owned power utility.
None of them were willing to talk to us.
So we asked Gaylo,
will renewable energy create enough jobs
to replace 90,000 coal jobs in South Africa?
There's no silver bullet to that.
No, there's not.
No single industry is going to replace all those jobs.
And on top of that, then we would end up with the same pattern.
Another kind of mono-economy, it's not what we want.
We need to look at diversifying the economy of the province.
And it's not renewables either?
So, renewable energy will play a part.
But let me be clear,
the notion that everyone employed in coal
must now work in renewable energy
makes no sense.
None whatsoever.
Why?
Very different type of jobs.
Very different type of skills.
Very different locations.
Gaylo says only 2% of renewable energy jobs
will be created in and around Creole.
And those jobs are not on par with coal jobs.
But Gaylo says there's still hope.
In his view, it starts with shutting down coal mines immediately
and then hiring those retrenched coal workers
to rehabilitate the land.
Mine rehabilitation can create a lot of jobs.
Jobs that cannot be created anywhere else
because they have to be on the mine.
It doesn't take huge amounts of skills
and it can really start to create virtuous cycles
in terms of rehabilitating the land, the water.
Gaylo says other opportunities exist for towns like Creole.
From manufacturing to agriculture and tourism.
Even coal ash, the by-product of burning coal,
can be used to make bricks and fertilizer.
He says there's major job opportunities
once government starts to think out of the box.
Let's do things.
We'll get it wrong, but let's do things.
Let's start.
If we wait for the perfect plan, the perfect project
that ticks all the boxes,
we're never going to get anything done.
But now I feel like we're waiting for that unicorn.
To my room.
In my room.
I consider my room the best room in this house.
Back at home with the Skosanas,
and Fezeka shows us her bedroom,
there are a few photographs from high school.
A teddy bear on the bed,
a small desk built by her dad,
and then on a shelf above her window
where it can't be mishandled or broken.
She keeps her most prized possession.
Yeah, but my rock collection is up there.
I can't take it down.
I really love that rock.
And then there are also these ones here.
But then these ones, I love them because they change colors.
I just love the rock.
Before deciding to study law,
Fezeka considered following in her dad's footsteps
to work in the mines.
She wanted to be a geologist,
but she changed her mind.
Law is a very broad career.
That's when I was interested.
And the more I heard my dad saying,
I'm going to look at this lawyer because of this matter.
I'm going to look at this lawyer.
Oh, another trial.
What's what?
Justice is not served.
And then I was like, oh, why don't I pursue law?
Fezeka worries about whether her father will receive justice.
She thinks it's fair that he gets his land back.
But the government process takes so long
that people die while waiting for their land claims to be settled.
And in the midst of all those delays in justice,
young people are looking outside Creole for opportunities to succeed.
And Fezeka fears the worst.
Do you think Creole will become a ghost town?
Definitely. If that happens, definitely.
Fezeka's mom, Ndogozo,
isn't certain that law is a good career choice for Fezeka's personality.
But she is certain that she wants her daughter to keep away from jobs in mining.
Ndogozo doesn't see a future for Fezeka and her sons, Pumelelo, if they stay.
Yeah, you must let them go.
If the power station closes, and if the coal mines go away, where will you go?
We have no choice because he is original from Creole.
He's original from Creole, so we have to go back to the farm.
Okay, next time.
But otherwise, we'll see you next time.
Okay, thank you.
Thank you so much.
It was time for the family to drive Fezeka back to university.
It's a long ride, several hours.
They'd only be back by nightfall,
and so our reporters Sia and Darshan say their goodbyes to the Kosanas.
I want to be remembered.
No, we'll never forget you.
Is it?
But as our team were leaving, they were left thinking about something Adam said.
So if your family story started as farmers,
and then the second story is coal,
what's the next story?
Okay, as they are talking about this renewable,
maybe, maybe.
I'm not 100% correct.
Maybe they will be there.
And Fezeka, maybe it's going to be law.
Maybe that's the new family business.
Yes, it can be.
This story was reported for Radio Workshop by Sia Mukwena,
a youth reporter from Emalaleni FM,
one of the many community radio stations we support.
This story was produced by our senior producer, Darshan Moodley.
Joe Jackson is our managing producer.
Rob Rosenthal and I edited this podcast.
Music by Kamani Sambu at Edible Audio in Cape Town.
Additional music by Blue Dot Sessions.
Sound engineering by Joe Jackson and Mike Rehfeldt.
This episode and the work of Radio Workshop
would not be possible without the support of Bloomberg Philanthropies,
the African Climate Foundation,
the Climate Emergency Collaboration Group,
and the Earth Journalism Network.
Find out more about what we do
and support our work on radioworkshop.org.
This episode of The Sunday Story was produced by Andrew Mambo
and edited by Jenny Schmidt.
If you would like to see photos from this story,
you can find them at npr.org backslash upfirst.
Our team includes Liana Simstrom and Justine Yan.
Irene Noguchi is our executive producer.
If you like the deep dives you get on The Sunday Story,
check out NPR's Consider This podcast.
This week, Consider This brings you a look at what the doubling
of child poverty rates means for families already struggling,
a doctor's take on a new booster and a new era for COVID,
and what it means for the world now that the war in Ukraine
has brought North Korea and Russia closer.
Listen to Consider This wherever you get your podcasts.
We'd love to hear from you.
Send us an email at thesundaystoryatnpr.org.
I'm Aisha Roscoe. Up First is back tomorrow
with all the news you need to start your week.
Until then, have a great rest of your weekend.
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