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By week's end, 100 golden-hued block houses with red-tile roofs stood as a quiet testimony to what unified hearts and hands can accomplish.

Building this concept, however, wasn't easy. Opposition and fear began to permeate nearby affluent communities. A newspaper article implied that residents had been "duped" about what sort of community Habitat was building. "For Sale" signs dotted the manicured streets throughout the area. Alarm spread with word that Habitat was building a slum and resettling squatters.

HFH South Africa quickly initiated a meeting to answer residents' questions. People began to listen.

"We were concerned about the devaluation of our houses," says Stuart Wilson, a resident in the nearby Sherwood area who attended the meeting. Today, he is a passionate Habitat volunteer. "When I saw the whole picture, I was ashamed that I would take such a negative view." He became a sort of Habitat ambassador to his neighbors--among them, Mona Runkel.

"This [project], in my view, is the beginning of a journey where we bring back all the different race groups, different creeds and different people who are otherwise separated." —Obed Mlaba Mayor of Durban

"Stuart put my fears [to rest] with the knowledge of the whole project, what it's about, family selection and the training the homeowners had to go through," she says. "People are frightened of change. ... But I'm converting my neighbors to my way of thinking."

Many of the neighboring residents are Muslim. They had fears as well.

"At first, when you think of 'low-cost housing,' you think 'slum,'" says Haroon Paruk, owner of the local Engen gas station. "But when we learned about Habitat, we saw it differently." He saw it so differently that he and Engen donated gas and other products to the project.

"The community wasn't well informed," says Iman Baboo Soofie, whose family built a nearby mosque in 1895. "We were a little afraid. But the mind and heart will be clear if people come and see it. This is uplifting [these families]. At the end of the term, they will be proud. To a poor man, this is the Taj Mahal."

By Friday of the JCWP, it was clear that Soofie's words were true. House crews and homeowners gathered for house dedications--the culmination of many hours of blood, sweat and tears. For each of 100 families, a simple block house with three rooms, a kitchen, a flush toilet, running water, electricity and a red-tile roof represented a new life.

"I live in a mud house I built myself," says Joyce Gumede, a domestic worker. "When the rain comes, it's inside my house. Last time, all my house was falling down. I'm scared. And when I'm at work, bad people come. They kick your door and take your windows. It's not safe."

By June 15, the "official" move-in day for the homeowners, she would leave those worries behind. "In my new house, I'll be safe; my children will be safe. There will be no sickness for my children and no [rain] in the house."

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