Death in a dusty graveyard

Farah Damon puts her hand on her hip while watching four kittens huddled together in a patch of sun at the front door.

"Now where is their mother?" asks the five-year-old, before dashing down the street. She returns with the "mummy cat", unceremoniously dumping her at the door.

"You must look after your babies," proclaims Farah, who attended Montrose Park Educare nursery school, run by Zulpha Jacobs, who is accused of murdering her two-year-old son, Taariq Jacobs.

Jacobs appeared in court earlier this month. Magistrate Tom Cloete postponed the trial to February 16 for further investigation.

Farah's mother, Faheema Damon, smiles as she watches her daughter giving the cat a tongue-lashing.

Damon, 26, lives in a shack next to her mother's house - an area called The Farm, in Montrose Park, Mitchells Plain.

Her home is spotless but the relentless southeaster howls eerily through the many openings in the shack.

On December 29, Jacobs reported her toddler missing. She claimed she had lost sight of him in a shopping centre.

Mitchells Plain residents are accustomed to children disappearing and a well-oiled action plan kicked into gear.

After little Taariq's body was found in a shallow grave in Beacon Valley, his mother allegedly confessed to the murder.

Soon other mothers join the conversation.

"And it is not as if there was no help available! There is a nurse who comes around to ask how you and your child are doing," Nicolette Erasmus, a mother of three said.

"Yes, and then there is Aunty Jasmine [from an NGO] who also comes to check up," adds Damon.

Ward councillor Maria Weavers said there are between 8000 and 9000 residents in the area.

Michael Jacobs, a cluster board commander for the Mitchells Plain Community Policing Forum, describes The Farm as one of the most "depressing" areas in Mitchell's Plain, which is home to more than a million people.

"The area is really underdeveloped. There are no parks, no schools, a high unemployment rate, and we have a big problem with illegal shebeens and drug dealing. In addition, we have many cases of child neglect - seeing children wondering the streets without adult supervision is common," he says.

Erasmus believes there might be another reason for The Farm being "rotten".

"It could be that this place is so cursed because it was a graveyard," she says.

Erasmus says most of the women are single mothers who survive on government child grants.

As the number of mothers grew, so did the number of little curious faces.

"Now that the creche is closed the children have to stay at home. But I took my little one, Cleo, out of that school a while ago," says Erasmus.

Occasionally, young men and women "with vacant expressions" would wander past. "Tik. That, my dear, is tik. Many of the mothers use the child grant for drugs or alcohol," whispers Erasmus, who offers to show me a tour of her shack.

On our way to Erasmus's place, Sandra van Wyk stumbles from her house. Unlike Erasmus, who lives in her mother's yard, Van Wyk is a homeowner.

With a heavy odour of alcohol and urine hanging over her, she says she moved to The Farm several years ago. Her house, like most others here, has only one room - it's just four walls and a roof. She was homeless for years and slept under a bridge in the Cape Town CBD but cannot remember for how long.

Erasmus's home consists of a kitchen decorated with pictures of her three young children, and a bedroom. Her shack seems as rickety as most of the neighbouring ones but she is content living there and takes pride in helping her community.

"Zulpha didn't live like this. Her mother is a teacher and they have a nice house. Many people extended their homes and several are very well off in this area. Zulpha's mother helped her financially by opening a creche for her to run," says Erasmus, while her daughter complains of hunger.

A stone's throw away from Erasmus's house, the Jacobs house is silent. The shiny green curtains are drawn and the gate is locked.

"The Farm has been around for 20 years and it seems like it is going to remain like this for another 20 years," says Michael Jacobs.

''[Jacobs'] mother lives nearby and we have been friends for a long time. She didn't seem unstable," says Damon, shielding her face from the wind and the sand.