Why are township residents so idle? This question struck me when I flew over Tembisa, northeast of Johannesburg, on Saturday.

It was a beautiful clear morning with excellent visibility and beneath me I could see the thousands upon thousands of Tembisa homes fanning out below. Small properties with postage stamp gardens and not a single tree, not a patch of lawn and not a shrub visible from the sky.

Just thousands and thousands of bungalows surrounded by dust.

From the air you could spot BMWs, Mercs, Hondas and Audis outside the homes. You could see the 4 x 4s and MPVs too – cars that probably cost more than the homes themselves. From the sky you could see the tarred roads, the electricity poles and the satellite dishes on their masts.

You could see bustling shopping centres with parking lots filled with Saturday shoppers. Money was being spent – as it always is on a Saturday in Tembisa. Money earned and money spent. You could also see the barren parks, untended and deserted alongside the occasional school, its fields as brown and soulless as the homes that surround it.

By some stroke of good fortune the captain of our flight had been instructed to remain relatively low so we circled above the northern suburbs of Johannesburg, where lush gardens and patchworks of swimming pools encapsulated much of the South African suburban opulence.

But the contrast was stark.

Minutes later, as we started to climb higher into the sky, we flew above Soweto – that amazing city that's home to millions – and once again we were looking down on little houses in the middle of those dusty plots. Once again you could see the shabby playgrounds, grassless and featureless alongside the community centres rising from the dried soil, baked hard by the African sun.

Brown Africa – dry, dusty and unforgiving.

Then, after this quick tour of Johannesburg – unplanned as I'm sure it was – we climbed high into the sky reaching a cruising altitude of 32,000 feet, high above a cloud layer that spread from Johannesburg to Cape Town. The clouds were bringing rain to Gauteng. Free, plentiful water.

I started thinking about the matchbox suburbs with every house a home for someone. Every little matchbox was a castle on a little piece of Africa.

A piece of Africa owned by the families who live there. But unlike Africa, with its abundant capacity for life to flourish, there were no gardens and no lawns. There are no trees or parklands. There was no African plant-life. For these were – and are – the dustbowl suburbs.

Within a few thousand metres of Tembisa and Soweto – at least it seems that way from the sky – are manicured gardens, trees everywhere and a wonderful green hue that so clearly demonstrates Africa's rich environmental abundance.

My immediate reaction was that the people of Tembisa and Soweto are all struggling workers of our South African society who barely earn enough to keep body and soul together let alone tend a garden. But the cars in the driveway belied that thought.

And anyway, in Africa, it only takes a little bit of time and a little bit of effort to grow something. Hell, there are government incentives everywhere to plant trees, to grow grasses, to plant vegetable gardens. It doesn't cost money to grow a garden in Africa. It costs time.

And time is a real investment in property, in the community and in the future.

Thousands – perhaps hundreds of thousands – of people in Soweto and Tembisa have actually bought their homes. They own these properties and each one represents their investment in South Africa, in Africa and in the future of our country too.

And yet these matchbox houses demonstrated just how little time anyone is prepared to invest in making their house a home. Why? Because millions of South Africans are lazy couch-potatoes.

Johannesburg's Greater Metropolitan Council has a scheme for the greening of Soweto. Tembisa has a vegetable garden initiative, encouraging residents to grow their own vegetables. The annual Arbour Day offers all the people of South Africa free trees to plant and nurture in their own environment. The Department of Education has hundreds of initiatives where youngsters are encouraged to plant and tend their own gardens.

No, it's not a lack of money that stops anyone from making a garden grow. It's indolence, slothfulness and idleness.

And almost every homeowner in Soweto and Tembisa is guilty of that environmental crime.

At least that's the way it appears from the skies above Johannesburg on a clear Saturday morning where you can see the spread-eagled city stretching almost to Kingdom Come.

And what does it take to transform these patch-worked suburbs?

Nothing more than a little bit of effort.

Money is not the criterion for growing a garden, a lawn or a vegetable patch. Apartheid is not the reason why you cannot improve your surroundings. A lack of education is not the cause. The local, provincial and government departments are not at fault either.

So I'm not prepared to make any more excuses for the residents of Soweto or Tembisa – or any of the residents in any other of the many thousands of townships and towns around the country – who live in the dustbowls and complain about the cost of fresh vegetables and whine about how it is getting more and more difficult to provide fresh food for their children.

Start growing some food. Start tending to your gardens. Start taking some pride in your surroundings and start making your own home a sanctuary for yourself, for your children and for your extended family too.

All it takes is a little bit of effort.

*Hartdegen writes a regular column for Property24.com. The content of his columns constitutes his personal opinion and doesn't pretend to be facts or advice. Contact him at paddy@neomail.co.za.

Readers' Comments Have a comment about this article? Email us now.

Just a little bit of effort, and not that much money, indeed.

I recall moving in to my little house with the postage stamp garden, and being immensely sad that I had no grass or plants.

I would put my two year old to sleep at 7.30 at night, and would work in the garden till 10pm by the moonlight and the sad glow from one outside bulb. I did not have a lot of money, but I bought grass seed and started the project. I took snippings of plants, and seeds from gardens of friends and family and started my little nursery. It took me two years, but I now have three trees, lots of indigenous plants and a very sweet little garden that grows a bit each year. It doesn't have to cost a fortune. If you put the right stuff in, you only need to do some maintenance in spring – so the hard work is all over, and well worth it. – Sarah

I absolutely agree with Paddy Hartdegen. It is mysterious and needs an answer. – Marilyn