Place+of+worship+now+a+den+of+iniquity,+Solly+Maphumulo,+The+Star

The Star, Johannesburg, June 08, 2006 //Edition 1//
=Place of worship now a den of iniquity=


 * Solly Maphumulo**

Murder in the cathedral has taken on a new meaning for the once fashionable Central Methodist Church in Johannesburg. An immigrant has been murdered, drunkenness is rampant, fights are a problem, rape is not uncommon, theft is ongoing and overcrowding is a major cause for concern.

The church, in the heart of Johannesburg, is now home to 700 refugees and illegals, who have been given shelter there by Bishop Paul Verryn.

But, say members of the congregation, conditions have deteriorated to the extent that it has become unsafe to go there. They claim people have sex in the church, that used condoms are left lying on the floor and that babies are delivered there.

The toilets are blocked, and the place reeks of sewage. It has also become something of an informal market, with all sorts of items on sale by informal traders.

The congregants are deeply concerned about the state of the church, which they claim has been turned into a place of squalor.

Verryn says he housed the immigrants at the church because they have nowhere to go. "Some of them are not illegal immigrants, they are refugees," he said. "We try to help them to go to the Department of Home Affairs to get their documents. Home Affairs officials are aware that we are housing refugees."

He said the church was a place where homeless people should find love and compassion. "We can't put them on the streets, we have to find alternative venues. We have spoken to several people to try to find accommodation. The situation is appalling. I know the congregants are unhappy," Verryn said.

Home Affairs spokesperson Mantshele Tau says churches that housed refugees were not accountable to them, but warned that illegal immigrants would be deported if caught. "We have a problem with illegal immigrants flocking to South Africa. If we find illegals we will deport them."

One congregant, Xolile Skade, found the main church hall filled with immigrants in tattered clothes singing Chimurenga (Zimbabwean revolutionary) songs. He said it seemed as if they were not concerned by the dirty surroundings.

"This is a disgrace. This church is a slum," he said. "The place is a mess. It's a pigsty. We are very angry.

"People have sex in church. A lot of women have fallen pregnant in church. Their babies are delivered in the church. Now they live with them in church. What kind of a church is that? How can we worship God in a dirty place?" Skade asked.

He said the number of congregants was dwindling.

A resident who did not want to be named said the weekends were worst. Immigrants got drunk and into brawls. They hurled insults at each other. It is a known fact, she said, that in Zimbabwe the Shonas and Ndebeles do not get on, but at the Central Methodist church they all live under the same roof.

"It's scary," she said. "Sometimes I forget we live on church premises. It's always noisy here. It's not safe. You could die for your clothes. If you leave your things on the floor you may never find them again."

The man who was stabbed to death by a fellow Zimbabwean did, indeed, die for his clothes. An immigrant who claims to have witnessed the killing said trouble began when the Shonas and Ndebeles started a fight over clothes.

That Saturday morning a Ndebele, Andrew Khumalo, asked one of the residents for his clothing. A well-mannered person who had come to Johannesburg in search of a better life, he left his wife and children in Zimbabwe. He arrived at the church looking for accommodation and was offered a place by the bishop.

On the day he died he asked a fellow Zimbabwean for his clothes back. The man refused. In the afternoon Khumalo again asked for his clothes. Minutes later the two groups (Ndebeles and Shonas) were embroiled in a fight.

The eyewitness said knife-wielding Shonas and Ndebeles chased each other around the church. There was blood everywhere. Khumalo was stabbed. Though bleeding profusely, he fought back with his bare fists. He finally collapsed to the floor. By the time the paramedics arrived at the scene Khumalo was dead, his blood-spattered body lying motionless on the floor of the church.

"Khumalo did nothing wrong," the witness said. "He asked for his clothes and was killed. I couldn't help him because they would have attacked me if I had intervened."

Other residents tried in vain to stop the men from stabbing Khumalo. They stabbed him repeatedly. His face was covered in blood.

His death prompted an immediate response. Angry residents locked the church doors. They caught Khumalo's killer and beat him up.

The witness, also from Zimbabwe, said he was not happy with the conditions at the church. There were no beds. Immigrants slept on the floor. There was no food. They were left to fend for themselves.

"In other places refugees are taken good care of. They get food and they don't sleep on the floor," he said. "It's cold here in winter but we sleep on the floor. We have to buy our own blankets and look after them because if we leave them unattended they get stolen. We have to keep our clothes in a safe place. Khumalo died for his clothes. So you can die for anything in this church. We have to buy our own food. I am so unhappy here."

When The Star visited the church at 8.15 one evening, the place was bustling with people of all ages: babies, toddlers, women, men, girls and boys. Underwear, napkins and clothes lined the stair rails. Residents had no place to hang their laundry, so they placed them on the stair rails to dry. There was dirty water on the floor, the walls covered in grime, with piles of dirty blankets scattered around. The place smelt bad.

Women in their early twenties sat on the benches breastfeeding their babies next to the door leading to the Central Methodist chapel.

A woman placed a baby on a bench and changed her nappy. The baby girl screamed and sucked her thumbs as the woman wiped her bottom. She cuddled her infant, climbed the stairs and left the dirty nappy on the floor.

The place resembled a train station. People were seated on rows of wooden benches, mounds of blankets, with heaps of clothes and bags next to them. Some blankets, spread on the floor, were makeshift beds, taking up the interior of the church.

Inside the chapel, more people were lying on the floor. Even the pulpit was occupied. Several women prepared to go to sleep under the pulpit.

On Saturdays the place is like a flea market. There are public phones, necklaces and earrings on sale at the church entrance. Just outside the chapel a thriving spaza shop sells eggs and sweets.

Shoppers jostle for space as they shout: "May I have some sweets please." But inside the church, life is a bitter struggle.


 * From: http://www.thestar.co.za/index.php?fArticleId=3281616**

1184 words