No fences make better neighbourhoods

GROWING up in the family house, our Muslim neighbour Mrs Hafiza Adam would address my mother as “sister”. In turn, my mother would refer to her as “sister”.

- YOGIN DEVAN

On many evenings, my mother would exchange a small bowl of food with Adam Aunty, as we children referred to her. It was more than just sharing a meal — it was a quiet gesture of connection, care and mutual support. Whether it was dhal bubbling on the stove, some tripe curry, extra rice or freshly made roti, food often travelled between house numbers 45 and 47 without ceremony, but with plenty of heart.

These small acts of sharing built trust, reinforced community bonds and turned simple nourishment into a shared experience.

In tough times, they could mean resilience; in joyful moments, celebration. The deep interpersonal connection between my mother and Mrs Adam transcended any Hindu-Muslim religious differences there may have been.

Mrs Adam could speak fluent Tamil. Before moving to Umhlatuzana in the early 1960s, she had lived in Hillary among people who spoke various Indian languages. Much like the great philanthropist Hajee Muluk-Mahomed Lappa Sultan (ML Sultan) who arrived in South Africa from South India and could speak flowing Tamil.

In Robert Frost's poem, Mending Wall, it is said: “Good fences make good neighbours.”

I say: “No fences make better neighbours.”

Frost’s line is frequently used to justify building a fence and keeping neighbours at arm’s length. But in fact, it is an indictment against our culture's collective failure to be hospitable and neighbourly. Social media has certainly exacerbated the problem, but it certainly isn’t the root cause.

In the “good old days”, before the advent of the notorious Group Areas Act that uprooted settled communities in localities such as Seaview, Bellair, Hillary, Cato Manor, Riverside, Fynnland, Clairwood and Rossburgh, and relocated them into ghetto townships such as Chatsworth and Phoenix, there were no fences to keep families apart.