For South African photographer Jabulani Dhlamini, social engagement is at the heart of his work. When Covid-19 arrived, South Africa underwent one of the world’s strictest lockdowns, with closely-monitored curfews and an alcohol and tobacco ban.
As Dhlamini’s mother is a key worker, he was driving her to the pharmacy where she works every day, and would find himself interacting with people from his car window while he waited. Compelled to share their stories, Dhlamini began photographing them outside their houses, building a picture of daily life in Soweto – the township where he lives – throughout the lockdown.
After 25 years, what has changed in South Africa’s townships and rural areas? Not enough
His portraits – now showing at London’s Goodman Gallery – are presented alongside direct quotes from the people depicted, a collaborative element Dhlamini feels strongly about. The quotes express the sense of fear and uncertainty and underscore the ongoing inequalities that have persisted in South Africa since the apartheid-era, now exacerbated by the pandemic.
“Shooting my surroundings at this time led me to understand that this pandemic is starkly highlighting entrenched social and economic problems,” reflects Dhlamini. “After 25 years, what has changed in South Africa’s townships and rural areas? Not enough.”
Jabulani, how did the idea for your project the everyday waiting come about? Why did you decide to focus on Soweto?
As a documentary photographer I am compelled to look, observe and document what is happening around me. My practice is always about looking at human conditions and how the past is affecting the future, which is the present. So I felt it was important that I document this part of human history as it goes along.
My practice is always about looking at human conditions and how the past is affecting the future, which is the present
After the lockdown was announced I decided to drive my mother to work, as she is an essential worker. While waiting for her, I would have conversations with the few neighbours I saw, as the streets were quiet. These conversations would happen at a distance as the lockdown rules didn’t allow them to be in the streets. In a way, this helped ensure that we kept the social distance.
This project came about as a need to have a conversation about Covid-19, because it was the initial phase of both the virus and the lockdown here in South Africa and no one knew what to expect. People wanted to vent their frustrations and anxiety and I felt the need to visualise and archive these conversations.
This project came about as a need to have a conversation about Covid-19
I chose to focus on Soweto because I’ve been working on a long-term project that will be commemorating the 50th anniversary of the Soweto Uprising that took place on 16 June, 1976, and the access of my lived experiences through the people.
Can you describe your process behind taking the portraits? What was the most important part of these encounters for you?
There is no specific criteria I use when choosing the people I work with. While driving around my neighbourhood, I met different people and had general conversations with them – especially about Covid-19. The most important part was the conversation I had with different people I met and the opportunity to visualise these conversations.
The most important part was the conversation I had with different people I met
Did you have any challenges while working on this series?
As an independent photographer, I’m not working for any media company, so I had to work without a work permit, which meant I had limited access to other areas.
All the townships in South Africa were militarised and over-policed and that resulted in police brutality. I had an encounter with the police and they made me delete images; that experience meant I had to tread carefully going forward.
I had an encounter with the police and they made me delete images; from then I had to tread carefully going forward
As a documentary photographer, I rely on my ability to relate to the people I’m working with, so due to Covid-19 it was challenging, as I was confined to my car and that shifted my approach a little.
Why was it important for you to show these people’s stories, and to include their quotes directly alongside the images?
In this process of me collaborating with the people I’m working with, photographs become my contribution and the text is their contribution, so I have to tell their stories in their own way.
Photographs become my contribution and the text is their contribution
Many people you spoke to mention financial difficulties. The fact that they have to go out to work in order to put food on the table, means staying at home is not an option for many of them. In what ways has this pandemic highlighted the country’s ongoing inequalities?
Covid-19 has exposed South African social problems that are a legacy of the apartheid system. Not a lot has changed even after 25 years, for example, people still live in the same houses that were designed during the apartheid era under the Group Areas Act; these houses were built as a means to accommodate the influx of new residents forced into Soweto.
People still live in the same houses that were designed during the apartheid era under the Group Areas Act
Financial exclusion is making townships over-populated, as people can’t afford to own houses in cities. So now, people are forced to live in hand-to-mouth situations as they earn way less than their counterparts from other races. The education systems in the township have made things worse, because it was designed to be lower compared to that of suburban areas.
Lastly, what is your aim with this project?
For me, the most important thing about photography is its ability to inspire social change and start a conversation. It’s also a powerful tool that I use to inform, highlight social issues, archive and narrate stories.
Jabulani Dhlamini’s work is showing at The Goodman Gallery (26 Cork Street, London) from July 9 to September 11, 2020.
