CSI: Blikkiesdorp

When I was completing my typical round of refugee interview assessments this morning, CTRC director, Christina Henda, suddenly interrupted and directed me to postpone all normal procedures because we were urgently needed at Blikkiesdorp. Without much clarification, I hopped in the company vehicle driven by security personnel Stanley along with Annel, and we all sped off. As we passed the normal exit-way to Blikkiesdorp I felt even more confused but soon learned we were stopping in downtown Cape Town to pick up an official from the UNHCR branch here who would assist us with our assignment. The three others in the car jabbered hurriedly away in Afrikaans, leaving my Anglophone ears to only sense the tone of abnormality. Finally they filled me in: We were off to investigate a Somali-on-Somali stabbing that had just occurred in the recently resettled quarter of Blikkiesdorp!

There is something otherworldly about Blikkiesdorp even when it’s not a crime scene. Silver shack after silver shack glisten atop an expansive floor of dirt. Buildings are impersonally marked by a generic Letter-Number code, and the streets lack names altogether. Four units share an outdoor toilet and washing unit at their interstices. Awkwardly named Blikkiesdorp is but a nickname to the official, yet coldly distant “Delft Symphony Way Settlement Area.” No one seems to want to take ownership of this desolate plot: Media sources have referred to it as Cape Town’s dumping ground for the unwanted, and some have even drawn parallels between this site and the one depicted in the recent South African-set film District Nine.

Add a crime scene to the mix and you can imagine how I felt as I arrived. It was actually my second trip to the area but no less haunting than the first. A few children ran around aimlessly as we pulled up. The first Somali family spoke to us in extremely broken English, a bit confused why we were even there. We managed our way to another family who then guided us to the scene of the crime. Broken bits of bloodstained fencing pieces lay strewn across the austere courtyard. We were welcomed inside the humble “can-shack” for an informal statement of what happened. Our accompanying UNHCR worker seemed to know one of the women who lived there quite well, so she lead the way in asking the questions. I sat atop an informal bucket and listened intently. The moment felt completely surreal. There I sat in a shack, following the thickly accented narrative of a hijab-clad Somali refugee woman in order to assess the motive and implications of a morning inter-ethnic stabbing. It was definitely one of those “I’m in the developing world!” moments and never would I have thought freshmen year while dissecting the Federalist Papers that my Madison education might lead me to an experience like this!

After we got back in the car, my supervisor Annel and the UNHCR worker discussed the viability of the statement. Apparently the chief interviewee is quite crafty and has been known to aptly manipulate situations in her own favour. It is even quite possible that she instigated the inter-ethnic attack in order to portray her own proximal situation as vulnerable and thereby gain lobbying capital for a re-settlement interview to the United States. Her story, however, consisted of two Somali ethnic groups who are traditionally rivals jealously fighting with one another. The persons involved were taken to the Delft area holding cells, so we made our way to the Delft Police Station for further enquiries.

There we met with local police officials who had little knowledge of the morning’s events. That in itself goes to show the amount of crime events that occur in township areas. The police definitely have their hands full from day to day. After pinning down the police chief to aid in our pursuit, we awaited more crime interviews. Suddenly a young, bloody-faced Somali woman burst through the doors of the boardroom where we were waiting. The UNHCR worker interviewed her carefully. According to this woman, the morning attack involved only women. One or two women came at a group of five to six with knives because they were allegedly jealous of their resettlement interviews. On the way out the door, we ran across three additional young, Somali women who were also alleged victims. These women shamelessly peeled back layers of their conservative clothing to demonstrate the numerous knife wounds all over their bodies. Again, their eagerness to show-off their wounds left me feeling unsettled at the very least and moreover wondering if this was not all but a plot for resettlement attention. Both UNHCR and NGOs such as the CTRC fulfilled important watchdog functions for an event like this. All in all the event proved minor, but if it had been more serious, we would have been both the first agents there to aid in relief efforts as well as the first line of defense against further proliferation. Today felt like I was right in an episode of CSI: Cape Town. It was an incredibly “real” experience to learn about the way refugee crime incidents unfold within the South African justice system. As an American, I feel a bit disconcerted about the extreme efforts some might attempt for the mere right to enter my country. Ironically and pessimistically, I often feel that these efforts are in vain…even if the stars align and they are indeed granted a resettlement opportunity, I can’t imagine that starting life over as an American refugee is an easy feat.