Look at the photograph above. Take a careful look. What does it mean to you?
Some may see it as graffiti—plain old scribbles on a rusty sign. Others may see it as a work of art.
Perhaps some see it as a piece of community expression—where various people have made their mark, so to speak.
Others might profit from such a sign. They could take it down and mount it in a restaurant or bar as a Memento of Muizenberg.
It’s certainly not as epic as the graffiti art on the Berlin Wall, for instance. It doesn’t carry that kind of gravitas.
Yet it has its own relevance in a seaside community with a decaying rail line, crumbling buildings, and broken pathways and footpaths.
For the critically inclined—and we need them too—this may represent urban decay. A sign of the times.
Perhaps even a signal. A warning sign.
A realist might look at that sign and say: the government railway system has collapsed. Most of the money has been stolen. No one cares anymore.
It might also hint at the invisible lines between government-owned zones and those run by municipalities or provinces. Railways, harbours, social grant offices, and licensing departments are often horrible, neglected places—filthy, decaying, and unrepaired.
Yet step outside, and you may see property maintained and even newly built—thanks to a provincial government that, at least, is not stealing.
The sign may simply reflect the angst—the quiet, internal drama playing out in people’s lives—as they go on living in places where very few seem to care.
