Sandile Mqadi connects handshakes and kisses. Every two meters there is someone to greet him in the VIP area of ??the “Ballito Pro”. The competition, which took place in early July in this seaside resort 50 km north of Durban, South Africa’s surfing capital, is a crucial step on the way to qualifying for the world championships. Sandile Mqadi spent the week refereeing the event. A familiar and respected face in this world of wave pros, he was one of the first black surfers to practice in competition, in the 1990s.

“Sandile is kind of the father of black surfing in the region and one of the most important voices in surfing on the continent”, summarizes Tom Hewitt. The two men have been working together for fifteen years in the association Surfers Not Street Children, founded in 1998 in Durban. His goal: to get young people off the streets through sliding. Thanks to her, Sandile Mqadi taught hundreds of black kids to stand on a board.

The company was by no means obvious. While South Africa has some of the best waves in the world, ridden by the best “riders” on the planet, the practice here is still widely considered a “white man’s sport”. An image partly inherited from apartheid, the racist policy of “separate development” implemented by the South African government from 1948 to 1994. For nearly half a century, it denied black people access to many of the country’s beaches.

But in the Point neighborhood, where Surfers Not Street Children has its headquarters, the barriers to learning to surf go beyond the legacy of the past. Most of the 130 children currently supported by the association live in this area considered one of the most violent in Durban. Some live on the street, others live in rooms without running water or electricity, at 1.50 euros a night, run by sleep merchants.

Against a current

Slumped on the sidewalk, haggard men are overwhelmed by their last shot while a ragged crowd awaits the distribution of a soup kitchen. “Surfing is more like the antithesis of street culture,” sums up Tom Hewitt, the association’s founder. The kids he supervises live a block from the beach, but most can’t swim. “At home, parents see the ocean as a danger. Most come from the land. At best you jump in the rivers, but you don’t learn the breaststroke, “explains an educator.

Born in 1977 two hours drive south of Durban, Sandile Mqadi and her twin brother also went against the tide by choosing to get into the water. “Our ancestors say twins drown if they dive into the ocean. I used to go to the beach on the sly from my parents,” he recalls. Until the fall of apartheid, he must above all defy the ban on going to the most beautiful beaches. “The only place you could surf was full of rocks!” »

Hidden in the dunes, he observes the white surfers with envy. “We were like, wow, we want to be like those guys! Until the day when a local surfer offers boards to teenagers. “We learned on our own, the boards didn’t have a leash [cord that connects the practitioner to his board], we tied them to our feet with ropes, I was terrified of losing mine…” As a wax (non-slip resin), he uses candle wax.

Having become addicted, Sandile Mqadi launches into competition and begins to travel, until an illness pushes him to reorient himself towards arbitration. A few years later, he made his art a tool for rehabilitation. “The ocean is a rehab,” he says. The waves tire you, it calms you down and you end up talking about your problems. The goal is not to bring young people to the competition, it is to help them grow. Surfing is like scouts, it teaches you a culture, discipline, respect…”

Beside him, Aya nods, “I don’t know where I would be today without surfing. The 18-year-old just spent the week commentating on the Ballito competition in front of thousands of people. Three years ago, however, Aya thought she was lost. Like many young people from the townships, he saw himself more as a football star. Gifted, he will be recruited two years in a row in a provincial team. “And then the Covid happened and everything stopped. »

” I almost drowned “

Back in her poor neighborhood 50 km from the ocean, Aya zoned between the sofa and the street: “I started hanging out with people I had always tried to avoid. I was the youngest, they sent me to get alcohol, I was starting to pick up bad habits…” A friend finally offered him to come surf with Sandile Mqadi. “From then on, I spent my days at the beach. I walked away from those people,” he continues.

His footballing friends are chasing him. Surf ? A white man’s sport! “But the truth is there aren’t a lot of opportunities in football. Everyone wants to do the same. I don’t know what my homies are doing today, but I’m pretty sure they’re lost on drugs or something, because they’re stuck fighting for football when we can step out of line. I never imagined commentating on a surf competition! »

One surfer after another, Surfers Not Street Children are changing the face of sport in Durban. At 26, Ntando Msibi, known as “Biggy”, is another example. The orphan who sniffed glue and begged at red lights has become one of the best surfers in South Africa thanks to the association. In 2015 and 2016, he represented South Africa at the World Junior Surfing Championships in Ecuador and then in California. He now works in a surf shop hoping to raise enough money to re-enter the world circuit.

“The first time I tried surfing, I almost drowned,” he recalls, laughing. He also recounts the erratic cohabitation, the first times, with the regulars: “It was not a question of skin color. Simply, black surfers did not know the rules. We stayed in the middle of the passage, those who had been there for a long time were furious. One day, a guy pulled out a gun and yelled at us to get out of the water. And then Tom made the introductions, we got to know each other. Today, we are all equal. »

“The kids of Surfers Not Street Children are the pioneers of an African surfing culture, completes the founder of the association. They are part of the general surfer community, but they bring their own story, they don’t just imitate. Little by little, they are changing the stereotype of the blonde surfer with blue eyes. »