For two decades, Cape Town firefighter Zulpha Slamdien had stared danger in the face without a scratch. Then came the April wildfire that ravaged Tokai’s mountainside.
The inferno devoured 3 000 hectares of mountainside and raged for four days before crews could finally extinguish it. During the battle, the 42-year-old mom-of-two slipped and fell and had to be rushed to hospital with injuries to her legs.
Despite significant cuts, bruising and swelling to her legs, she was back at work a week later. “Firefighting runs in my blood, she says simply.
This is her story.
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“We had a hose running into the bush. I had just got out of the fire truck and was walking towards the blaze when I suddenly slipped and fell into this big cement channel on the side of the road.
My colleague told me to stay down as they weren’t sure if I’d broken my leg.
They carried on fighting the fire but called an ambulance. They took me on a stretcher to hospital, and all I can remember thinking was, ‘I’ve got two young kids at home to run around after.’ I was irritated that it was possible that I could have broken my legs!
X-rays revealed no breaks, just lots of soft tissue damage, bleeding, bruising and cuts.
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I remember at the time my family telling me I’d made the news, but I had no idea.
I rested for a few days but was back at work within a week. I remember we got called out for a shack fire in Hout Bay.
In a weird way, I now feel more excited about what I do. This is a dangerous job, and accidents happen in a split second, but I feel I’ve now passed a hurdle.
Firefighting is in my blood. My dad was a firefighter and my uncle too, so I basically grew up around it.
I remember going to visit the fire department on public holidays when my dad was on duty or when they had family days.
I was the only child in our family who wanted to pursue a career in firefighting. My twin sister, Fagma, studied to be a teacher while my younger brother, Yunus (35), suffered from asthma, so he wouldn’t have passed the physical examination.
I joined the Cape Town Fire Department around the age of 20.
I’ve fought thousands of fires. A lot of them don’t even make it into the media.
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Shack fires are what we deal with most often, and they’re the most dangerous as there are lots of people in close proximity.
People ask if I get scared facing those flames, but honestly, once the alarm sounds, something switches in your brain. Your training takes over completely, and your mind is focused on one thing only: controlling that fire before it takes another home.
Sometimes the smoke can get overwhelming and you can’t breathe, but we have a breathing apparatus that we strap on our back. However, quite a few of my colleagues have joint injuries from years of carrying the hose and other heavy equipment.
Despite this being a male-dominated profession, I’ve never felt discriminated against because I’m a woman.
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When I was younger, some of the older firemen would sometimes help me carry the hose, probably because I’m quite small, but I think they were just being protective and helpful.
I’m very capable – I even went into work when I was pregnant, although I wasn’t fighting fires; I manned the desk.
My husband, Moegamat (43), who is an electrician, has always been supportive of what I do.
We got married just before Covid hit and he’s always understood what comes with loving a firefighter – the night shifts, the sudden call-outs, the days away during big fires. He doesn’t just accept it, he’s proud of it. He tells everyone what I do, and my mother-in-law even brags about having a firefighter in the family.
This isn’t just a job for me – it’s who I am. I’ll only hang up my uniform when I absolutely have to.”
