Blackened by soot, the gutted and derelict remains of South Africa's infamous Usindiso building in central Johannesburg are an unintentional memorial to the 76 people who died here in a devastating fire two years ago. At one time an office block, the 1950s building in the Marshalltown area was abandoned and then taken over by several hundred people desperately needing a home. One of those was Vusi Tshabalala, who shakes his head in disbelief as he recalls how he survived the blaze on that late August night. "The fire seemed to come out of nowhere," the 45-year-old tells the BBC in a melancholic voice, raspy from years of smoking cigarettes. Mr Tshabalala was asleep on the third floor of the five-storey building, where he was sharing a place with his then-girlfriend and brother. Awoken by the flames, they managed to escape by covering themselves in wet blankets and running in the dark towards an exit at the rear. "As we were running others got injured, because when they fell down, they couldn't get back up. People were running over them. I thank God that we came out without any injuries." The tragedy shocked the nation and highlighted the deep housing inequalities in Africa's wealthiest city — inequalities the authorities promised to address. Visiting just hours after the blaze, President Cyril Ramaphosa called it "a wake-up call to begin to address the situation of housing in the inner city". "We need to find effective ways to deal with the issue of housing," he said. But two years on, Mr Tshabalala and many others have still not found a permanent home. Initially he was relocated to Rosettenville, 5km (three miles) south of Marshalltown, but he says he left because he could not find work around there. Next he tried the industrial neighbourhood of Denver, 6km east of the Usindiso building, where other survivors have been placed — but says the frequent shootings forced him to leave. At the moment he lives in the shadow of his former home, where other former Usindiso building residents have put up shacks in an informal settlement known as Emaxhoseni. Made of corrugated iron and wood, the structures are tightly packed together — and a few feet away, some people have even set up makeshift tents against the wall of the Usindiso building. The street is filthy and residents tell us the drainage is poor. During the summer rains the area gets flooded and filled with waste. But for Mr Tshabalala, who is currently working on a nearby construction site, living here is worth it: "I came back because at least here we get jobs. The other places we were taken to, we can't find work." He blames the authorities for not doing enough to support the survivors of the fire: "No-one wants to know where the people from this tragedy are living." Some of survivors have remained at a camp set up for them in Denver — though this does not mean they are happy. "This place is not safe," 29-year-old Thobeka Biyela tells the BBC. Children play in between the temporary corrugated iron shelters where women are also doing laundry when we visit. There are only a few dozen portable toilets and 12 taps for the estimated 800 people who live here. Ms Biyela, who works as a police volunteer, explains how she was shot earlier this year as she was asleep in her home. "I heard gunshots. Then I was hit by a bullet. I don't know who shot me but some guys were fighting outside," she says, struggling to hold back the tears. The bullet that came through the wall and hit her is still lodged in her hip. The doctors told her trying to remove it would cause more damage. She has covered the bullet holes left in the wall with masking tape: "Sometimes when I see the bullet holes, I cry. I cry because I didn't expect this to happen to me in my life. I've cried a lot." Ms Biyela is desperate to leave the camp but she cannot afford private rent, as her volunteering role pays her very little. She wants the authorities to relocate her as she was told the camp was only a temporary solution, but two years on she has no idea if and when she will leave. "If the government had relocated us after six months like they promised us, maybe I wouldn't blame them. But I blame them because it's been two years. "Now when it's cold, I can't go to work because my wound hurts. I have to buy painkillers every day. My legs hurt, I can't stand or walk for long." Because of the safety issues, she has sent her three-year-old daughter, who was with her the night of the fire, to live with her grandmother in KwaZulu-Natal province. "I'm very scared. They promised us that they were going to put gates at the entrance of the camp but there are no gates. Anyone can walk in here." The camp residents say three people have been killed since their arrival in Denver: one stabbed, another beaten to death and the third shot. The BBC contacted the city mayor's office to ask why the survivors of the fire had not been relocated two years on but got no answer to this question. Nomzamo Zondo, a lawyer and the executive director of the Socio-Economic Rights Institute of South Africa (SERI), a human rights organisation based in Johannesburg, says it has been a struggle to get people out of so-called temporary emergency accommodation. She explains that according to national housing policy the state should find permanent accommodation for those who are evicted or victims of a disaster, unless they are able to house themselves. "Generally, that doesn't happen. Without any affordable accommodation that people can move into and without any plan for the state to provide that, it's unlikely people will leave their temporary housing," she tells the BBC. There appears to be plenty of abandoned buildings in the centre of Johannesburg that could provide permanent homes, but developers interested in revamping them then charge a rent that is beyond the reach of many. "The moment that you bring in the private market, there's no space for the poor," the housing lawyer says. There is some hope of improvement ahead. With South Africa hosting the G8 leaders' summit in November, Ramaphosa ordered that Johannesburg's inner-city neighbourhoods to be cleaned up ahead of the gathering. That was in March — and one focus was supposed to be the city's crumbling buildings. In one city authority document Mashalltown was identified as one of the areas that would benefit from investment to ensure "cleaner streets, safer buildings, and renewed economic confidence". Johannesburg would be "a place where Africa's resilience, innovation, and potential will be on full display for the world". But little seems to have happened so far and Ms Zondo says lasting change will take time. "The G20 is just two months away. In that time, it's unlikely that much will be done, but our hope is that the presidency's commitment to improving the inner city will outlive the G20 and ensure that there is dignified housing for the poor and that we don't have another Usindiso," she says. In response to a question about why the area had not been regenerated as promised, the mayor's office told the BBC that the project would continue after the G20 meeting. Meanwhile many of the former Usindiso building residents remain in limbo. "I don't see this changing," sighs Mr Tshabalala. "If people are still living like this," he says, pointing to the homeless men in tents behind him, "I don't see any change. I don't know what is happening with our government." — BBC
