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Sylvia Nkomo "I don't want to get married again" and Sister Levi "He will take care of me forever" MANNENBERG TOWNSHIP LIES ON the Cape Flats, miles from the beautiful city of Cape Town, which is cushioned between oceans and towering mountains. The township stretches endlessly over the flat, sandy plains, which are dotted with tiny little matchbox houses. Endless rows of squatter shacks run parallel as far as the eyes can see. In these dwellings that resemble chicken sheds, whole families-including children of all ages-are packed. The squatters have no access to electricity, and a single watertap outside often serves to accommodate literally hundreds of people. Passing down one ofthese mud-caked dirt paths, a single child comes into view. He stands almost lifeless, peering over a barrel with a blank expression on his long, narrow face. The boy is draped m an oversized man's jacket that reaches down to his knees, where it meets his tattered cutoff pants. His feet are swallowed up in the pieces of leather shoes that almost cover his bone-thin ankles. This is the Mannenberg of squatter Sister Levi and of township dweller Sylvia Nkomo. Sylvia Nkomo's family were from the north-the Ndebele area of the country. When she arrived in Mannenberg, she first lived in a squatter's camp and knew all too many children like the small boy, whose empty life is reflected in his sunken, lifeless eyes. These children, she said, did not go to school. Many did not live long, either. Disease took them ifmalnutrition did not. Sylvia Nkomo did not like to talk about those years: "you get used to it." Sister Levi came from the township of New Cross Roads, where she obtained the equivalent of a middle school education before she took to the streets and to drink. One night while she was at a bar, she was approached by a Rastafarian. The Rastafarians are

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