Tag: Swartkops

Redhouse and the Empire

As 1799 rolled into 1800, Algoa Bay was the scene of much mayhem as the Third Frontier War muddled along. The British handed back the Cape to the Dutch in the middle of it all and removed themselves from Fort Frederick with great relief.

The Fort was used as a place of refuge by the local farmers as bands of displaced Quena roamed the area in revolt against those who had destroyed their traditional way of life and subjugated them as servants.

The restored Batavian (Dutch) government at the Cape accepted that they were not going to get the AmaXhosa settled to the west of the Fish River to head east. Live and let live. Peace broke out.

Meanwhile in England, technological progress advanced at speed. The first steam locomotive puffed along in 1802 and  the first practical steamboat towed barges along a canal in Glasgow a year later. The British began to use rockets in naval and land warfare, which incensed their enemies because it was so blatantly unfair. They didn’t have any rockets.

Four hundred years before they had pulled the same dirty trick when they used longbows to win battle after battle against the French who had none.

In 1804 Uitenhage was established on the widow Scheepers’ farm and two years later Colonel Jacob Glen Cuyler was appointed as its Landdrost, and commander of Fort Frederick.

The short-lived Peace of Amiens collapsed. In 1806, The Brits pulled off a mini-D-Day, landing redcoats at Bloubergstrand and beating the Batavians in a brief battle. The Cape was added to the Empire, along with the mounting tide of trouble on the eastern frontier.

Here Colonel John Graham enters the picture. In 1811 the fourth Frontier War broke out and he established his headquarters on a patch of veldt which eventually became known as Grahamstown. The Governor, Sir John Cradock, instructed him to drive the AmaXhosa east beyond the Fish River, limiting bloodshed to no more “than was necessary to impress on the minds of these savages a proper degree of terror and respect”.

Lack of communications was a big problem in those days. No WhatsApp. In 1812 the Brits finally agreed to stop harassing American ships and hijacking their British-born sailors. But the news got to the States after Congress declared war. When peace was declared, the news arrived late again, and the Battle of New Orleans was added to the list of disasters inflicted upon British troops by incompetent commanders.

During this rather pointless period of bloodshed – really a serious family feud – the Brits stormed Washington and invaded the White House, which was so hastily evacuated by its tenants that the British officers sat down to a lovely dinner complete with some jolly fine wine. Replete after the best meal they had tasted for a very long time, they burnt the place down.

About this time, the site of the future Redhouse belonged to the loan farm Zwartkopswagendrift, named after the only crossing place on the River, the drift at Perseverance.

This farm was originally established by a Meneer Van Rooyen.  In 1817, it was  incorporated into Fishwater Flats, a vast area that stretched along the Swartkops River, granted to Colonel Cuyler as a quit rent farm. Don’t get confused by Swartkops and Zwartkops. Same river.

In 1815 the Great War finally ended at the Battle of Waterloo and Napoleon was carted off to St Helena.

Many years ago, the Bennett family lived on the Towpath at Redhouse. Two brothers, Percy and Alan, and their sister Daisy, and a dog called Bones, reputed to be able to see ghosts. The story goes that their ancestor, a Captain Bennett, was part of the garrison on St Helena when Napoleon died in 1821, and his mahogany dining room table was used to make the coffin.

Meanwhile, civil war broke out between the Chief Ngqika’s Rharhabe and Chief Ndlambe’s Gcaleka. The former had previously signed a treaty with the Cape government which required British military support in the event of trouble. And so started the Sixth Frontier War.

In due course, Ndlambe agreed to the prophet Makana’s plan to attack Grahamstown with 10 000 warriors. Makana claimed that the British bullets would turn to water. Ndlambe sent a message to Colonel Willshire, commander in Grahamstown, saying that “he would breakfast with him on the 22nd  April”, to which the colonel replied that “everything will be ready for you on your arrival”.

The defenders, a hodgepodge of British troops, local militia and citizens, reinforced by a band of Quena, defended the town with muskets and light artillery against the spears of the attackers. A thousand Xhosa were killed and Makana ended up on Robben Island. Some breakfast!

In 1817 the Dutch man-o-war Amsterdam was driven ashore on the beach near the Swartkops River mouth by her captain, as she was in a decrepit condition and rapidly sinking.  The village which was eventually established at the mouth was named Amsterdamhoek, and the flat land south of the estuary became Amsterdam Flats. Whatever was salvaged was sold by auction. All the crew and passengers survived except three sailors washed off a raft.

And then the 1820 settlers arrived, and life was never to be the same in the Eastern Cape again. The Government wanted the settlers to create a buffer between the AmaXhosa in the east and the colony to the west. The post-war economic slump in the UK lead to hard times for many. 90 000 people applied but only 4 000 were accepted. They arrived in numerous small groups between April and June 1820 and were dropped off in the interior to build a new life in circumstances with which they were totally unfamiliar.

In due course, the Albany district evolved into a unique Anglo-Saxon enclave surrounded by Afrikaans-speaking people and the AmaXhosa.

At this time, Capt. Fairfax Moresby of HMS “Menai” noted that “the Zwartkops would become a river of the first consequence if Port Elizabeth should continue to flourish” and that it was possible for ships to cross the bar for much of the time.

There were always stories of small ships sailing up to Uitenhage in the old days, but I would doubt they got further than the drift at Perseverance. For sure, a large anchor was found at Bar None years ago which must have come off quite a big boat.

From small beginnings, Port Elizabeth grew and in 1837 was declared a magisterial district, the same year Queen Victoria ascended the throne and sat there for a very long time.

In 1845, the British Admiralty was being badgered by the proponents of two competing methods of steamship propulsion. So they organised a tug-o-war between the Rattler (propeller) and the Alecto (paddle wheels). Both ships were of similar size, and they both had 200HP engines. The Rattler towed her opponent backwards at 2.8 knots. Just as well. Imagine water skiing behind a boat with paddle wheels!

In 1846, the Seventh Frontier War began. Chief Sandile began his long and illustrious military career, which ended with his death in the ninth and final war in 1879.

I am amazed that the film industry hasn’t cottoned on to Eastern Cape history. There was way more bloodshed and general mayhem over this one hundred-year period than in America’s Wild West and Natal’s much publicized Zulu wars. Think about how many people could be employed! We would have no problem with extras for the battle scenes. Our people are good at that stuff!

By 1850 there was more and more traffic heading north from Port Elizabeth, and a ferry began to operate in the area where the Wylde Bridge is situated today.

My guess is that by this time the odd visitor from little Port Elizabeth had found his way to the future Village. This may have been when the original “Red House” was erected. It stood where the Lippstreu Gardens are now. The reed and mud hut was occupied by an old seafaring man named Cook who was employed by a Mr Blaine, a keen angler, to prepare bait for his trips from town on weekends. “The Hut” was eventually moved to the River front. It is claimed that its foundations might still be seen at number 38 Towpath.

In 1856 the Port Elizabeth Divisional Council was formed. Redhouse fell under this august body until it was incorporated into Port Elizabeth in 1967. A year later, the Zwartkops Land, Irrigation and Water Works Company was established. More on this lot later.

In 1869, the last public execution in Port Elizabeth took place on the green before the North End jail. When I read this, I immediately thought about the modern-day City Council.

The Port Elizabeth Boating Association was formed on the 2nd September 1873. At a meeting in the Algoa House Hotel, it was decided to build a boat house on the Swartkops River at Redhouse, form rowing clubs and order boats from England. Four arrived in December aboard the Windsor Castle.

The clubs established were the Zwartkops Rowing Club, The Southern Cross, the Ino and St. Georges. Annual regattas were held at Redhouse. Only the ZRC survived. Its clubhouse was originally constructed down the Towpath before being carted off to its present site lock, stock and barrel.

The stretch of river surveyed by Robert Pinchin in 1875 was at this stage named “Henley’s Reach” but the area was already known as “Red House” and the name stuck. Pinchin’s Henley Reach is now the stretch of River immediately downstream of the Village, leading into Box Reach at the bend.

The origin of the name, Redhouse, is up for debate. Two alternative suggestions have been made. In the one explanation, it is claimed that the hut was coloured with red ochre, making it a conspicuous landmark. A black and white photograph exists showing its distinctive colour. It has also been suggested that the name was merely a corruption of “Rooyen se huis”, after the original owner of the area.

The railway line first connected PE and Uitenhage in 1875, thus making Redhouse more accessible to Port Elizabethans keen on rowing and sailing.

On the 6th October 1875, eighteen plots along the Swartkops River at Redhouse were offered on a 10-year lease. By May 1876, the Ino Club had erected a 60×15 feet galvanised iron club house.

There is a drawing depicting a major rowing event at Redhouse in May 1876. The riverbank looked very different then. Not to be outdone, the sailors put on the first yacht race at Redhouse, between three boats respectively weighing in at 5, 3 and 2 tons. One assumes that they sailed them upstream from the Bay. This took place in 1879.

By the beginning of 1883, a new cottage had replaced the original red hut.

The first cricket test in South Africa took place at St George’s Park on 12th March 1889, between an English touring side and a South African XI. The visitors won comfortably. Port Elizabeth also hosted the first rugby test, on 30th July 1891. The visitors won again.

In 1897 Zwartkops Land, Irrigation and Water Works Company bought the farm Fishwater Flats and began to sell plots at Redhouse. The company was restructured as the Swartkops Valley Land Company in 1904. In the 1970s there were still 67 house-owners in Redhouse who paid annual quitrent to this company.

The strip of land on the other side of the River at Blackburn Reach (where the horrible Motherwell Canal now downloads its endless flood of filth into the River) was inhabited by the Blackburn and Deare families at about that time. There is a picture of a cricket match being played there. Eventually, Mr Deare took down his wood and iron house and it crossed the River and was re-erected in Deare Street.

In 1899 the Second Boer War started. I have a picture of the Redhouse Village guard in uniform with rifles and bandoliers of bullets. North of the Village there are traces of earthworks thought to have been dug at that time.

While doing research on the Victorian period, I could not help noticing how ridiculous men looked wearing stovepipe hats. Even more ridiculous were the hoop dresses worn by the ladies. Further investigation into female fashion revealed some shocking facts.

Imagine our ardent suitor from early Port Elizabeth, who has managed to persuade his lady love to come on a picnic outing to that lovely spot where the Red House stands. Presumably, they set off by mid-morning and travel in a horse-drawn conveyance of a size suitable to accommodate the lady’s crinoline hoop dress.

Let’s assume that he finds a suitably private tree along the riverbank, one hopefully without egrets and their odorous poo, and let’s assume it’s the dry season and mosquitos aren’t a problem. Factor out snakes and fishermen as well. Its paradise.

Out comes the white linen cloth, tasty snacks and bottle of cold champagne. Yes, he had a small ice chest in the carriage.

The moment arrives, and he contemplates the task of getting past the lady’s defences. Bear in mind that a girl in a hoop dress is exactly like a girl standing in a fair-sized circular tent with her head sticking out of the top. In order to kiss her, he has to lean over at an angle bound to crick his back just to get close to her lips.

The hoop dress is merely the outer covering for at least two petticoats and the dreaded corset, a fiendish piece of engineering capable of reducing the normal 28-inch female waist down to 16 inches!

It must have taken ages to put on and could not be done without the help of a couple of servants.

It puzzled me greatly as to how the poor bugger got past all this armour. And then I discovered the secret to why the population exploded in Victorian times. Until the 20th century – and here I must advise parental guidance – the knickers worn by ladies were actually two unconnected leggings tied together at the waist. They were separate garments with no connection in the middle, if you get my drift.

We must here assume our lover made it into the tent, and well! As they say in the world of marketing strategy, there were no barriers to entry! (I must confess, I blush – exit stage left!)

Redhouse on the Frontier

This episode starts in the year 1700, two hundred years after the Portuguese turned up their noses at the Cape, one hundred years after the Dutch and English began to show interest and a mere 48 years after Jan van Riebeeck landed.

Van Riebeeck asked the locals what they were called, and they said Quena. The Dutch called them Hottentots, modern-day scientists invented the term Khoi-Khoi, so we are going with the original name.

I have always wondered who lived where in those days. After much sleuthing, I have figured out the general location of the Quena and AmaXhosa tribes. In the interests of a flowing narrative, you will find the detail in Appendix A.

All  you need to know right now is that a couple of thousand whites and an equal number of slaves of diverse origins lived in Cape Town. Between Cape Town and the Swartkops River various Quena tribes were located. Beyond them, the AmaGqunukhwebe, a mixed Quena-Xhosa bunch, inhabited the Zuurveld, between the Swartkops and the Fish Rivers. Across the Fish River lay the various kingdoms of the AmaXhosa. Intermingled with all these tribes roamed bands of Kung (the name the Bushmen called themselves), much hated by the Quena, the AmaXhosa and the Dutch, for stealing their cattle.

Only the Quena in the west were familiar with the colonists. Not many of the inland AmaXhosa had ever seen a white man, a horse, or a gun.

The African people on the coast, all the way from the Fish River to Mozambique, had over the preceding two hundred years helped shipwrecked Portuguese, Dutch and English sailors trudging along the endless coastline towards De La Goa Bay. They often took them in permanently.

Survivors who chose to head west along the beach did not live long enough to regret their decision. The Kung invariably murdered them. Best to build a boat and take your chances on the sea route to Cape Town.

The AmaXhosa males were trained from boyhood in stick-fighting. Two sticks were used, one for attack and the other for defence. One English wreck survivor was invited to try his hand at stick fighting but lost his cool when he was repeatedly beaten about the head. He flattened his opponent with good right hook. This was not considered good form.

I know of no connection between the AmaXhosa and the Irish, but the latter have their own form of stick-fighting. It is called hurling. Fifteen men a side play on a rugby field. They are armed with “hurls”, wooden battle-axes, with which they smash the ball and each other. The object is said to be to hit the ball through the goal posts with the battle-axe. On the way, you can kick and handle the ball. Not to mention the opposition. Rugby on steroids.

When I say battle-axe, I am not kidding. I have several in my garage, left behind by a tribe of Irish who invaded Redhouse several years ago when one of them carried off my youngest daughter to live in the wilds of County Cork, amidst much happy carousing.

Hurling has been a major sport in Ireland since about 1200 BC. I am sure they have entire hospital trauma wards devoted to the game. It took until 2010 before the authorities reluctantly consented to players wearing protective helmets. Over 3000 years of constant brain damage finally made an impression. Ireland is a conservative society.

I wonder if we couldn’t recruit a team from the deepest Transkei and enter them in the All-Ireland Hurling Championship. They would soon learn the rules (if there are any) and their stick-fighting skills would be a great asset.

Speaking of the Irish, not only are they great rugby players, they have a game called Gaelic Football. It draws immense crowds of over 80 000 at the finals. The first legal reference to the game occurred in 1308, when John McCrocan, a spectator, was charged with accidentally stabbing a player named William Bernard. Accidentally?

Gaelic Football is sometimes incorrectly associated with Australian Football, or Aussie Rules. This game is played on an oval cricket pitch, eighteen players a side, and the highlight of the game is when someone scores a goal, an umpire wearing a white coat like a butcher, runs to the goal line and extends his arms, elbows to his sides, index fingers outstretched, and yells at the top of his voice, “How long is my dick”! Or so I am told.

Back to 1700, most of the world was more or less at peace, including the Eastern Cape. But it couldn’t last. The very next year, John Churchill, Sir Winston’s famous ancestor, better known as the Duke of Marlborough, arguably Britain’s best general ever, took on Louis XIV of France, who came second by a long shot. Marlborough never lost a battle and only fell from grace because his extremely bossy wife squabbled with Queen Anne. Women!

Down south, the Cape government made a decision which  started the total disruption of indigenous society. Trekboers were permitted to travel freely beyond the Colony’s borders.

In 1702 a Dutch hunting party clashed with AmaXhosa along the Fish River. Their attempt at stock theft having failed, they retreated, plundering cattle from the Quena on the way back. Meanwhile, the exodus of trekboers from the immediate vicinity of the Cape began to take off.

In 1713, a passing ship introduced smallpox. Twenty-five per cent of the white population died, but the effect on the Quena in the colony and in the south-western districts was absolutely disastrous. Ninety per cent of them succumbed due to lack of immunity to this strange disease.

Entire tribes were annihilated. The few survivors could not reconstruct their clans as they had lost their chiefs. The empty land was soon occupied by farmers from the Cape.

Amidst this chaos, a group of slaves escaped and attempted to set up a new life up the west coast. They were recaptured. The leader, Tromp van Madagascar, was sentenced to death by impalement but understandably chose to commit suicide in gaol. One guy was hanged, and the rest either had their Achilles tendons severed or their feet broken on the wheel.

Fifteen years later, the Dutch  began to take over Quena land and cattle through direct attack. It became the done thing to kill the men and to force the women and children into domestic labour.

In 1734 the Groot Brak River was declared the eastern boundary of the Cape. Five years later, the Quena in the area took up arms in their last stand against the Dutch. They lost, and those still alive were absorbed as unskilled farm labour.

Meanwhile, the Kung began an unending campaign of cattle theft and murder against the trekboers in defence of their rapidly shrinking ancestral lands, which resulted in commandos being assembled to hunt them down.

While the millennia-long way of life of the original inhabitants was being destroyed in a matter of a few decades, all was not well across the Fish River.

In 1730 Phalo became king of the AmaXhosa. He reigned for forty-five years. Two of his sons, Gcaleka and Rharhabe, started a power struggle which lead to a major schism in the kingdom, at a time when the Dutch encroaching from the west required unity of purpose.

There was dissent amongst the whites in the Colony as well. One Etienne Barbier lead a group of unhappy farmers in rebellion against the authorities. For his pains, he was drawn and quartered (entrails extracted, and limbs severed) and his legs and arms exhibited on the main roads as a warning. No wonder Cape Town is such a hotbed of violence.

In 1752 Ensign Friedrich Beutler led an eight-month long expedition as far east as the Butterworth region. On the way they erected a beacon at the mouth of the Swartkops River. When he returned, he reported that the land of the AmaXhosa was way more suitable for farming than the Karoo. An ominous sign for the future. He was most impressed by the Kung rock art in the Fish River valley.

In 1756 the Seven Years War, said to be the first ever “world war”, led to brawling in Europe, the Americas and India. The Brits and the Prussians beat the French and their numerous allies. The British Empire expanded.

The trek from the west was gathering momentum. The Cape government was always a few steps behind the trekboers. Nevertheless, they declared the eastern frontier to be established on the Gamtoos River in 1767. In the same year trekboers reached the Swartkops River, and the first serious clashes between them and the AmaXhosa were recorded. By 1772 there were a number of farmers settled in the Algoa Bay area.

There were several intelligent explorers in the area at this time. Carl Peter Thunberg, a Swedish naturalist, on his second trip to the Eastern Cape in 1773, crossed the Gamtoos River. He recorded two villages inhabited by the Gonaqua Quena, probably in the area of the present-day Woodridge College,  plenty of wild animals including buffalo, elephant, rhinos, lions, hyenas, and different kinds of buck. He also describes the salt pans near the Swartkops.

In 1775, King Phalo died and the AmaXhosa split into the AmaGcaleka led by Nqgika, and the AmaRharhabe. Civil war broke out. In 1778 the Cape Colony’s border was extended to the Bushman’s River. In 1780 they made it the Fish River.

Over the ocean, the British managed to lose their American colonies through the sheer ineptitude of politicians, generals and admirals, and major naval and military intervention by the French.

By now, the AmaXhosa were well aware of the trouble they faced from the encroaching white farmers. Attitudes towards whites changed. Whereas in 1686 the survivors of the wrecked Stavenisse were looked after well by the coastal people, the crew and passengers of the Grosvenor had no such luck in 1782. Wrecked on the coast on Pondoland, the 108 survivors had a dreadful time as they headed west. Six sailors were found 118 days after the disaster by a farmer near the future Port Elizabeth.

It wasn’t only human life that was impacted by this descent into misery. In 1770 the area around Algoa Bay abounded in wildlife. By 1820 most of the big game had disappeared, leaving small pockets of elephant in the Addo and Alexandria districts. It is hard to imagine how so few people could have caused so much ecological damage. In the 1930s my father could ride from the farm at Greenbushes to Redhouse on horseback through bushveld. The only human habitation on the way were the tiny villages of Bethelsdorp and Veeplaas.

In about 1970 troops of baboons still roamed the escarpment opposite Redhouse along with large numbers of buck. In 1984 they started construction of the Motherwell township. Very little remains of that wildlife.

In Europe, France was going bankrupt and scene was set for big trouble. So bad that they actually summonsed the first parliament since 1614. Madame Guillotine was to shorten the lives (excuse the pun) of lots of French citizens, including the King and Queen. The last victim lost his head in 1977.

The scene was set for another world war, which would last 25 years and come to a gory end at Waterloo in 1815. All this had a decided influence on affairs at the Cape.

Back to 1779. The scene was set for the first of nine Frontier Wars which would provide much grief and drama before the last one ended 100 years later. Five of these wars took place before the 1820 settlers landed.

When one reads the history of these conflicts, it reminds one of the Middle East. Everybody fights everybody else. Without boring the pants off you, you will be interested to know that in the fifty years between 1770 and 1820, and in no particular order, the following fisticuffs took place:

  • The trekboers fought the AmaXhosa and the Quena.
  • The Quena fought the AmaXhosa and the trekboers.
  • The British fought the Dutch in 1795 and took over the Cape and gave it back as soon as possible in 1802.
  • The AmaRharhabe fought the AmaGcaleka. In fact, the battle of Amalinda between these two tribes cost at least 500 lives in the bloodiest clash in AmaXhosa history.
  • The British fought the Dutch again in 1806, and this time kept the Cape.
  • The British fought the trekboers and hanged them from time to time.
  • The British fought the AmaXhosa.
  • The British fought the French in a small naval battle in Algoa Bay.
  • The Kung fought everybody.

Let’s conclude this sad tale in 1799. The Third Frontier War saw the AmaXhosa and the Quena ravage the land as far as Oudtshoorn. The British built an earthen fort on the farm Papenkuilsfontein at Algoa Bay, probably in the area lying between the present day Korsten and Algoa Park.

Large numbers of Quena and Xhosa warriors attacked the fort in broad daylight on the 10th August 1799, driving off cattle and sheep pastured close by. They headed for Kleinskool with their booty. Meanwhile, a troop of Dragoons had found their horses and charged after them, accompanied by two light field guns. They surprised the enemy enjoying a braai. Forty were killed and the rest fled into the bush.

Remember iClick, buried in Carden Street? Could he possibly have been a casualty?

Just a few days later, on 20th September, the French frigate Preneuse engaged the transport HMS Camel and the sloop HMS Rattlesnake in combat which continued through the night before she broke off the action at 03h30 and fled the scene.

Algoa Bay’s only naval battle. Although if they persist with the proposed fish farm, we might have another one.

Appendix A – who lived where

Around the Cape, there lived the Goringhaicona (Strandlopers), the Goringaiqua (the guys with the war-oxen who killed the Portuguese Francesco D’Almeida), and the Gorachoqua. Across the Berg River the Cochoqua numbered as many as 18000 when Van Riebeeck arrived. Further north the Namaquas held sway, and way beyond them lived the Briquas, probably across the Gariep River.

Over the Hottentots-Hollands mountains lived the Chainoqua, then the Hassequa and Guriqua around about Riversdale. Then came the Attaqua and Houteniqua, near George. Over the Swartberg mountains a large tribe called the Inqua held sway.

Further east lived the Ganumqua, the Nambunqua, the Gonaqua  and the tribe closest to the AmaXhosa, the Damaqua, who probably camped between the Gamtoos and Swartkops Rivers. The Damaqua bought dagga from the AmaXhosa and sold it down the supply chain until it reached the Inqua up in the Karoo.

Between the Swartkops and the Fish Rivers the AmaGqunukhwebe, a mixture of Quena refugees and some AmaXhosa, occupied the Zuurberg.

To the east of the Fish lived the AmaXhosa, AbeThembu and the AmaMpondo, stretching all the way to Natal.

Small bands of Kung roamed about across the entire area.

The Poo Tsunami

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SEWAGE INFRASTRUCTURE BUCKLING UNDER YOUR LOAD 

The waste water infrastructure servicing the Nelson Mandela Bay municipality appears to be in the process of collapsing.

There has been much publicity concerning the latest sewage disasters to strike the area; these include:

  • numerous breakages in the sewers running down to the Fishwater Flats Waste Water Treatment Works from the massive Motherwell Township, resulting in 30 mega-litres of raw sewage flooding the Swartkops River every week over the November – January period;
  • raw sewage running through Swartkops Village to the extent that the municipal slipway at  Tiger Bay had to be closed;
  • the recent eruption of sewage opposite the entrance to Fishwater Flats, which formed lakes of foul water on both sides of the M19 at the John Tallant crossroads, before finding its way into the Swartkops;
  • allegations of raw sewage flowing into the sea from the Papenkuils canal;
  • allegations of raw sewage escaping into the Baakens River;
  • evidence of untreated sewage being pumped directly into the sea from Fishwater Flats – yachtsmen report sailing through poo when venturing close inshore, and there are said to be aerial photographs of the waste water pouring into the sea;
  • frequent spills into the upper Swartkops River from the Kelvin Jones sewage works in Uitenhage.

However, comments from concerned citizens in the social media reveal that there are probably a lot more streams and ponds in the Metro that suffer from sewage leaks and other forms of toxic wastewater.

All the evidence points to an aging infrastructure buckling under a volume of sewage for which it was never designed.

It was stated that the upgrading of Fishwater Flats, currently underway, would provide capacity to handle the expected increase from existing sources for the next forty years i.e. capacity is reached in 2050.

But there is a currently a plan afoot to create an entirely new sewer system running from the Northern Suburbs into Fishwater Flats; this rings all sorts of warning bells.

If Fishwater Flats only has capacity to handle the current load until 2050, then a massive new sewer system is most definitely going to reduce that capacity considerably.

Heavy rainfall results seems to increase the flow entering Fishwater Flats and, inevitably, the excess is pumped into the Bay along with raw sewage. A new sewer system is going to increase storm water volumes.

It is the height of ecological folly to pump raw sewage into the Bay whenever the volume is too great for comfort, just because you can.

It seems obvious that Fishwater Flats has a finite life, under the best of circumstances.

There are however, other dangers which should be considered.

The Metro has already released information about so-called “set-back” lines, which take into account a one metre rise in ocean level over the rest of this century; according to National Geographic, this could be a conservative estimate; recent studies indicate a rise of between 0.8 and 2 metres; if the Greenland Ice Sheet melts entirely, expect seven metres.

One metre doesn’t sound particularly alarming right now; after all, that’s only about 12.5mm every ten years. Not that there is any guarantee that the ocean will rise at this gentle rate without throwing a wobbly from time to time.

On at least two occasions during the last twenty years the N2 running past Fishwater Flats has been closed while storm debris has been cleaned up – sand and stones flung across the road by waves breaking over the dolosse.

You may remember the event in September 2008 when waves broke over the sea wall near Sidon Street and ran into Paterson Road.

There is a strong probability that at some stage we are going to experience a storm surge that will breach the N3 barrier between the sea and Fishwater Flats, which is a mere 300 metres from the shoreline.

What happens when the sea decides to retaliate and pumps salt water back into the treatment works?

Perhaps the architects of the Fishwater Flats idea may be forgiven for their lack of vision; fifty years ago environmental conservation was not top of the list for town planners; pouring poo into the sea was common all over the world – it still is; and they obviously did not foresee a massive increase in population.

Even less could they have foreseen a situation where the local authority responsible for maintenance would be stripped of expertise for political reasons, resulting in a maintenance regime which has to rely on private contractors operating in what appears to be a permanent climate of crisis as they battle to plug the holes in aging sewers.

Port Elizabeth is not alone; all around the world cities are sinking in excreta as aging infrastructure crumbles; that gives us no excuse to avoid dealing with our own problem.

What it does give us is a marvellous opportunity to rebuild our sewage infrastructure using the most modern methods.

Imagine a situation where we have a number of modern waste water plants developed using the Nereda technology which has been implemented so successfully at Gansbaai and Wemmershoek in the Western Cape?

This modern system is making inroads all over the world; the treatment plants take up less space, use a lot less energy and construction costs are around 20% lower than old fashioned plants.

Imagine a situation where a number of such plants were established with the metropolitan area, situated inland and well away from our rivers and streams.

The advantages include:

  • lower maintenance costs as each plant would service just its section of the Metro, thus avoiding lengthy sewer lines and the pump stations necessary to prevent expensive blockages
  • grey water recovery for agriculture which could be established close to the plants; we are after all a water scarce country
  • a boost to our construction industry
  • generation of energy from methane produced during sewage treatment
  • creation of agricultural jobs in the farming clusters close to the plants
  • the salvation of our rivers from their present seriously endangered state
  • a pristine Algoa Bay, free from manmade pollution.

The perils of not addressing the problem include:

  • Greater incidence of disease amongst the population, particularly those exposed to streams of sewage; cholera, typhoid and dysentery are just the more obvious results of contact with untreated sewage
  • Increasing incidence of infrastructure failure, resulting in ever increasing maintenance costs;
  • The final destruction of our rivers
  • Increasing pollution of Algoa Bay, making a mockery of its position as a “Hope” spot as recently aired in the Press

Not to mention the curses of future generations on the souls of their forefathers for leaving them in a veritable “s***hole”!

No doubt the question of funding will be raised; the answer to that question is “Never confuse Principle with Cost”.

We do not have the right to leave an environmental disaster to the care of future generations.

We do have the responsibility to fix our problems before they become someone else’s.

Let Nelson Mandela Bay become an example to the rest of Africa on how to handle a very smelly problem.