Bernadette Wicks and Xanderleigh Makhaza
A black sky still cloaks the village of Empini, Umhlabuyalingana, and the vast swathe of rolling dunes and dense scrub from which it rises, when the Mbonambi family first wakes.
Inside a slatted wooden hut on the homestead, dry branches crackle and an earthy scent hangs heavy. The day starts with a fire.
The previous day, Londi Mbonambi, 22, trekked for several kilometres under the blistering heat of the mid-summer sun to gather the kindling.
Now she sits knelt beside the flames, stoking the tinder until it breaks apart before deftly scooping up the embers and placing them inside an old-fashioned coal iron.
She swings the antiquated contraption in the crisp morning air and swipes it across the cool sand floor until it’s cool enough not to burn her younger cousins’ sun-creased school shirts.
In the meantime, 18-year-old Ntethelelo Mbonambi, fetches a bucket of water from the Jojo tank on the periphery of the homestead, guided through the thick grass by the glow of a small torch.
The water is poured into a time-weathered pot which is carefully placed atop the fire. It’s a while before slender plumes of steam begin to rise, and a while still before it eventually comes to a slow boil.
These two basic tasks - ironing three school shirts and boiling a few cups of water - take close to an hour without electricity.
The municipality of Umhlabuyalingana is the least electrified in South Africa.
At least 44,000 people who call this vast expanse of savannah lands, lush forests and sparkling coastline home don’t have access to electricity.
Researchers from the University of Johannesburg identified the reasons for the electrification backlog in the municipality as previous neglect, sparse settlement patterns, and difficult terrain, in a 2014 conference paper exploring renewable energy options for rural areas.
Empini starts where the power lines end.
Electricity isn’t the only basic service wanting. Many don’t have flushing toilets, refuse disposal services, or even running water. At the Mbonambi homestead, the Jojo tank is full now, thanks to recent rainfall. During dry periods, they walk for several kilometres to dig for groundwater.
The road here - and to the villages still beyond - is a soft sandy pathway cut through the veld. There are no signs to show the way or even mark the entrance.
Forty-three-year-old traditional healer Phindile Mbonambi is the only breadwinner.
Sat on a straw mat on the floor - surrounded by jars and bottles of varying sizes and contents - her gaze is fixed on her granddaughter, who’s draped across her outstretched legs.
“My hope for the kids is that they become successful,” she says,
“I hope they make it out of here”.
She has lived here her whole life. It was her late grandparents' home, which she now shares with her two daughters, her granddaughter, and her cousin’s three children.
They struggle in school, she says, but she doesn’t blame them - they’re already tired by the time they get there, and they sometimes run late and wind up missing their first classes.
“Life here has always been hard, for as long as I can remember,” she says.
The only change she’s seen is the recent construction of a handful of RDP houses.
“But when it comes to water and electricity, nothing has changed”.
They also struggle without roads, she says.
“There is one car that goes to town at 8AM every day. If you miss it, you aren’t going anywhere, even if you have an emergency”.
She thinks of leaving Empini.
“I just don’t have the finances to move… It’s pointless having those thoughts when I have nothing.”
Sphelele Mbuyazi - also 43 - has lived in Umhlabuyalingana all his life. He says there are other villages like Empini peppered throughout the area, and that some are even worse off.
Umhlabuyalingana mayor Thembinkosi Khumalo himself describes the area as “one of the most behind municipalities in South Africa in so far as basic infrastructure is concerned”.
He recognises the urgent need for electricity in the municipality.
“The municipality falls in a tropical and highly environmentally-sensitive region with protected natural vegetation and/or forests, and therefore many areas get very dark at night . And the municipality is a border municipality, and suffers from various cross-border crimes - notably car theft. A lack of electricity in some critical areas leads to poor or compromised visibility, connectivity, security, etc.,” he says.
He also recognises the potential in the area,
“The area has huge potential as it has unique eco-tourism traits and competitive advantages but lack of electricity to support the tourism product, washes that away”.
Thandile Chinyavanhu, a climate and energy campaigner for Greenpeace Africa, says breaking the cycle of poverty without electricity is “incredibly challenging”.
Electrification brings with it significant socio-economic benefits, especially for women and children, who still shoulder most of the housework in most households, she says.
“It reduces the amount of labour that's necessary for these women and children to be able to complete their tasks in a more efficient manner. They would not necessarily have to collect biofuels - like wood - so that would reduce the time they dedicate to certain activities,” she says, adding that this in turn allows them more time to pursue, for example, education or compensated work.
After years of empty promises, the people of Umhlabuyalingana have lost faith in government.
They say ahead of elections, they are visited by politicians who promise them a different life but disappear as soon as the polls shut.
Asked if he still believes them, Mbuyazi looks quizzical.
“At my age…,” he says before pausing.
“I had faith at first, but when the time goes,” he continues, “they’re promising nothing. They’re promising because they want votes, but they won’t provide what they’re promising”.