

Langa is one of the oldest of Cape Town's 13 townships, started in the 1920s as a camp for male dockworkers who it was feared would spread plague. But when politicians get power, they forget about townships."

If you persuade 60 per cent of the population to vote for you, that will see you into power, perhaps even into the top job.

Townships are hunting grounds for politicians. "Sixty per cent of South Africa lives in a township," says Chippa, "and only 50 per cent of those have jobs. Cars occasionally rumble past, thudding with bass and driven by young men. People with lots of time and nowhere to be walk with a languid gate. Our two-hour walk begins at some parklands where the grass and gum trees are wearied from Cape Town's drought. And it suddenly strikes me: I've never got past polite chit-chat because I've never thought about their lives on a deeper level. I try to make conversation, though the gulf between us is hard to bridge. Over decades of travelling in South Africa I've met lots of security guards, waiters and maids at hotels and restaurants. Each day they travel to your hotels and restaurants and earn between 250 to 300 Euros a month. "The people you meet during your holiday in Cape Town – all the security guards, the waiters, the maids – they live here, in a township. But his next statement sets me back a little. A friendly, open-faced chap with a ready smile, Chippa thanks us for visiting and tells us how to greet locals in the Xhosa language ('Mollo'). Our small group of seven is greeted in the centre of Langa by resident Chippa Mngangwa. It's bounded by a railway line, a busy freeway and a garbage transfer station. It's flat, a little bigger than Sydney's Centennial Parklands, and home to 80,000 people (the population of Launceston). Langa township is 10 kilometres from the five-star hotels of Victoria and Alfred Wharf, and a million miles from the stuff that makes Cape Town one of the world's most beautiful cities.
