Dream of a new South Africa

In 1994 Mary Russell observed the country's first democratic election. She has just been back - and what a difference a decade makes

Things have changed in Burgersdorp. For one thing, it takes the great train only 14 hours to lumber to the town from Johannesburg, compared with the two days it took under apartheid. And it's now a smart train painted purple, yellow and turquoise. The dining car has cheerful plastic tablecloths, the stewards wear traditional African-print uniforms and if the chef is working by candlelight it's only until a fault is rectified.

In my carriage is Moosa, pleased to hear I'm going to her home town. "It's got a radio station now," she says. This is good news, for Radio Unique was a project initiated just after the 1994 elections, when the ANC was especially keen to see the introduction of community radio stations: they would not only entertain and educate people but also give them a chance to talk to each other in their own languages. Radio Unique now broadcasts in Xhosa, Sesotho, Afrikaans and English.

For a town such as Burgersdorp - dusty, sun-stunned, 800 kilometres either way from Johannesburg and Cape Town - to have its own radio station is a major achievement. It's not the only innovation, although ticking off the others I find myself reverting, inevitably, to the old categories. Burgersdorp, serving a farming area, still has three distinct neighbourhoods, black, white and coloured, although the edges are starting to blur and both the mayor and the municipal manager are black.

These innovations - in a town where, in the old days, a black pedestrian encountering a small white child pedalling along the pavement on his tricycle was required to step onto the road - are a manifestation of the great distance travelled since 1994. The municipal manager, in his 30s and a graduate of the University of Cape Town, is well aware of this and lists the municipality's achievements: 250 houses built for farmworkers, 250 dwellings electrified, the water-pump plant upgraded, more street lights introduced.

And, as elsewhere, people are upwardly mobile. The local building contractor has relocated from the black to the white part of town, as has a black teacher. The police inspector (black) has built an extension to his house, his wife has got a new kitchen and they send their son, Siyaz, to the "white" school. The deputy head (coloured) of another school has built two new rooms onto his home and a garage for his second car.

The nursery school, catering for black and coloured children, is now funded by the welfare department, which means the staff get paid regularly. Before, the school was run by a charity, and salaries were paid intermittently if at all. The municipal manager ends his report with a familiar plea for people to pay their bills more regularly. "If they did," says Siya Monkohla, "we could tar the streets, install water-borne sewerage and build some sports fields."

In fact, it's only in the white part of town (population 6,000) that the roads are tarred. The rest (population 20,000) are potholed mud tracks. The schools are short of teaching materials and computers, the pitifully poor still live in tin shacks and unemployment is hitting 50 per cent and rising in places.

This concerns Khayalethu Mlingwana, manager of Radio Unique, who has been on business-studies and radio-management courses and spends his time producing, editing and presenting programmes.

He has trained two other presenters - transfer of skills is a cornerstone of the station's constitution - and holds regular sessions for new recruits. He even climbs the 1,000-foot hill on which stands the station's transmitter to fix the trip switch when an electrical storm interrupts a broadcast. And he does it all voluntarily, for there is no money to pay the staff of non-commercial radio stations, which is why Mlingwana, at the age of 31, experienced, articulate and with clear leadership qualities, has never had a paid job.

He is not the only one. Mfumie is 25. Although she has a certificate in small- business management, she is unable to find work. At the moment she fronts a health programme, concentrating on AIDS education in schools. The official message is to wait until you're married before having sex. Then use a condom and be loyal. The unofficial message is to masturbate, as it won't damage anyone's health.

Mfumie is the station's only female presenter, held in high esteem by her colleagues because she is not striving after marriage, which means she's prepared to continue working for nothing and, as she says herself, gain more experience.

But it is Mlingwana, a political activist even when at school, who speaks with passion of the dream he still harbours for South Africa, listing the four challenges facing the country: the landless, unemployment, housing and racism.

"We need employment. If they were building houses and roads and water schemes this would mean jobs, but they aren't, because [President Thabo\] Mbeki won't follow Mandela's line, which was to go for private partnership, and that creates jobs. We have former members of the MK" - the armed wing of the ANC - "still without work. They have to find something to do, and this is where corruption begins."

While he talks he sorts through the tapes he needs for his nightly music phone-in. "The Eastern Cape is a very important part of South Africa. It has given us Mandela and Thabo Mbeki as well as some big names in football and cricket. But the trouble is politicians forget the place they've come from. And that's the problem: we must never forget the vision."

Far away, in the commercial world of Cape Town and Johannesburg, there's little sign of such vision. Carjacking is so rampant that many vehicles have signs announcing they are fitted with satellite-tracking devices. More and more houses have electronically controlled gates, and some residents employ security guards. Few people will venture out on foot after dark, and some are even nervous about walking in parts of the city by day, although this is more an indication of a beleaguered state of mind than of impending crime.

Ironically, last month the South African-based Pam Golding Property Group visited Dublin to woo Irish buyers with investment properties costing between €40,000 and €1 million. Investors were offered deals on holiday homes to rent out as well as on "lifestyle developments", such as golf courses and game parks.

Such investments are expected to yield big returns. "We must never underestimate South Africa as a safe haven in the eyes of the rest of the world," said Golding, the company's chairwoman.

In the same month, a headline in the Cape Times read: "They've taken our doctors, now they're after our sex workers." It referred to an Irish-based company recruiting women to work in an "elite venue for the discerning gent".

It's all a long way from Mlingwana's dream for a better world, but this doesn't stop him swinging into DJ mode as his evening programme gets under way. "Hello everyone," he says in English, then switches to Xhosa. "This is Radio Unique, the station that unites and develops." His is a small voice in a small town, but his hope comes over loud and clear.

Ups and downs Life in South Africa

It is almost 10 years since South Africa held its first democratic elections. Since then the country has been transformed. More than half the population now receives a free, if basic, water supply. Free basic electricity will shortly be made available to poor households. The use of condoms by young people has increased dramatically, and a generation of children has grown up unshackled by the evils of apartheid.

Inner cities are being rejuvenated, room is being made for vast numbers of refugees from other parts of Africa, unscrupulous corporate employers are being brought to account in the courts and property developers are promoting South Africa as a safe holiday destination.

On the downside, carjacking is on the increase, the streets are dangerous at night and unemployment reaches 63 per cent inparts of the country.