Die Werkswinkel, or for those who don’t speak Afrikaans, The Workshop. An unheated set of timber buildings in Hornlee where up to 45 disabled people apply the talents they have, to support 323 family members.
I greet, friendly, Jenny Hayward, who runs this incredible endeavour, and as I take her frozen hand in greeting, I am compelled to embrace her, as if that action could dispel the cold and the concern that is so clearly visible, as she accepts the empathy and gratefully smiles back at me.
She introduces me to Leticia, the admin lady, and shows me the miniature space where Duré Frankin, the social worker, will be applying her skills and training on behalf of the workers and their extended family. The lady in the kitchen laughs at my question “Where’s the cake,” given the stove and oven that was donated to the centre.
The three knitting machines, a Pfaff, a Singer and a Pasap, covered with old curtains, patiently wait for someone to come and train the people who could convert the bundles of wool into garments and income, and my mind runs to another, retired, Jenny, who I will contact and motivate.
As I turn, the clever shopping bags, made from old newspaper, catch my eye, and I wonder is some gift shop in Knysna would buy them, and use them for the purchases made by tourists.
The carpenters, with Wally who has no legs, sitting in his wheelchair, happily continue to make and assemble, one meter high, wooden crosses. These will be used, together with the chip board coffins the for people who get buried in pauper’s graves, by the undertaker who ordered them.
Abel, known also as Pelo or last born, is busy threading new cow hide strips into the holes of a “Riempie” stool. This is his speciality and he does not really need much supervision from Edwin, the diminutive manager, who stands by, leaning on his crutches, as Abel artistically treads the strips of hide to form the new seat of the stool.
There are picture frames, duck boards, and other, as yet unfinished, items waiting for the hands that will convert them into usable works of art. But the Iveco bus, that brings the disabled workers to the centre, is in George and in need of repair, so hands that could be working and supporting others, are sadly back in some equally cold shacks waiting for a miracle.
I take my leave of Jenny and feel the desperation as she recounts the lack of understanding and support that this endeavour has from Council. The pathetic amount of money received as a grant from The Department of Social Affairs, and my mind races back to the remuneration figure of government employees. In the car I formulate the appeal that I will make for free water and electricity, for the repair of the Iveco bus, the compassion of the residents of Knysna, and the manner in which all the challenges that this enterprise deals with, day to day, can and will be resolved.
Contributed by Peter Dijkstra the CEO of the recently formed Knysna Chambr of Commerce & Industry
