Martinus Fredericks meets me outside the police station in South Africa’s Atlantis, a somewhat forlorn semi-industrial town on the outskirts of Cape Town. On this winter’s morning, Atlantis is shrouded in fog. After a firm handshake, he leads me across the road into an unmarked building.
On the second floor, at the end of a wide, airy corridor that also houses the community radio station, we enter an empty coffee shop with six plastic tables adorned with black tablecloths and gold place settings. Over tea and sandwiches, Fredericks tells me how an astounding midlife revelation led him to become the face of a social and environmental battle.
