Represent DIARY: MY FIVE SENSES OF JOZI CITY
As you all know the city of Johannesburg is alive and kicking, as developers continue to finish off their buildings and plans, more and more working people are moving into the heart of the city to live in slick accommodation. Represent has sent one of it’s writers, Sisiwami, to give living in the inner city a bash, over the next few weeks and months, she will be documenting her stay in th…
e inner city of Johannesburg. Scroll down for updates. See our Flickr pics here.
October 2006
Do you know that at night you can hear the sea in Joburg city? It rocks and sways you as if your body were adrift on an ocean, quietly gliding you through midnight and gently into dawn. You can only hear it once the phuza-face stragglers have settled down to a restless sleep in a doorway, once the garbage collection trucks have stopped clunking and the glow of the office blocks fades into the backdrop of a pulsating night. It’s the late-night soothing sound of the united rhythms of city air conditioners and generators, colluding to form a constant hum and drone that washes over your thoughts as you concede to the comfort of Johannesburg blackness. And yet all too soon it is gone. Replaced with the daily discord of a teenage city coming to life, coming into itself, finding its feet for another grueling day.
It is with sadness that my sojourn in the city has come to an end but it is through my 5 senses that I shall always be able to zoom back to this time of change and excitement. “I can’t believe you’re leaving us already” laments our favourite security guard, “it won’t be the same without you.” And my life will never be the same since the successful city seduction that wrapped me up in a disjointed world for 6 months leaving me lustful and longing for more.
It was an all-embracing sensual seduction, her curves, her lines, her shape, her strength constantly captivating my eye – I found myself looking up, up and away, looking here, there and everywhere where she reigns and moves – her visual superiority holding court over the province, the nation, the continent. Fumbling and humbled, I tried to capture her light, her colour and her changing moods, but no picture nor words can do her presence justice.
A cold lift door, a warm spring wood, hot summer glass, smooth cool steel, rugged high walls, soft new carpet, slippery wide screed – her textures call out for your hands to stroke, to feel, to hold onto. Layers of life, layers of history, her story is in her touch.
And ahhh the taste – like full bodied wine that caresses your senses, her taste is of late night boerewors rolls mixed with the masala of a spicy curry – greasy yummy chicken wings heal a heavy hangover and an ice cold cocacola washes away the forgettable past. Short sweet and satisfying, her tearoom melted chocolate fills the hungry gap, giving you a quick fix of energy and a desire for greedy seconds. Instant gratification beckons with loose cigarettes, 10c sweets and a packet of stale salty crisps or soggy biscuits – her flavour is all around you.
And how we have been welcomed and wooed by the people who are her lifesource, our little community that keeps on keeping on, making our statement and making our mark, determined to make the city our home. Hi Good Morning Afternoon Dumelang How are you What do you do Where are you from These lifts drive me crazy Please sign the guest book Wola What floor are you on What’s your name Great to see you Moving in? Moving out? Eita How was your day We were wondering what time you would get in Hi I’m your neighbour Ngiyabonga. Sharp.
But it is her scents that will be my trigger back to this city life. It is always the scents of my life that mark my memories: a whiff of a neighbours drifting mogodu, the pungency of a fume-filled traffic jam, the newly-painted wall of a newly renovated city, overwhelming odours of burning rubber, exotic incense and a distant factory chimney; sweet and sickly perfumes of a lady of the night, fragrances of pink flowers on a dusty windowsill, hints of fleshy bodies on a crumpled double bed, morning scorching coffee, pizza on lazy Fridays, rain rising from a sticky tar street, an open drain reveals the underside, an early-morning bakery gives you hope for the day. These are the scents of my inner city.
It is the end of an era- for I have been part of a pioneering people, a brave city and a promising future. I have lived, loved and learnt in this city and it has taken me to places I would never have known. From today I remember that I am this city and this city is me – who I am will always belong to Jozi – May my future be matched with her success. Here’s to a beautiful city.
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July 2006
It’s not my fault that I am updating the post so infrequently. I blame it entirely on the economic boom we are experiencing in Joburg. There’s no time left to play! Nearly all the people I know are putting their heads down and working hard, long hours…just like me! When do I have time to write about what I’m doing when there not enough hours in the day to do it all? Know people like this?
So many people are planning to, have already or are about to start their own business. There’s an entrepreneurial drive all around me! So life is flying by as our city continues to evolve and improve… tres encouraging but a little disturbing to be nearly 2/3rds through 2006. Bring it on 07!
I am starting to feel really at home in the city, I’ve been staying on my own for a few weeks now and coming home at night from time to time alone. It’s such a pleasurable journey asI leave the suburbs and the lights in front of me unfold into green as my car cruises through the pretty streets of downtown. There’s one 4-way where the light is always red and I approach it slowly, waving to the night guard, on duty every night outside a corner building. He’s starting to recognise me now. Then it’s green and I’m gone, zooting into my underground parking with a ‘toot’ on my hooter to the night watchman and the garage door magically welcomes me home safely.
So the other day I’m driving a friend home from the far North and I hesitate about taking the M1towards the city from Sandton and think about taking the backroute… “you know it’s strange” I say to my friend, “I feel more comfortable driving in the inner city than taking your offramp.” Regardless of this hint (oh yes I believe in signs), we swing onto the highway. As we’re chatting at her Athol-Oaklands offramp waiting for green, with a car (at a ‘squeeze-through’ distance) in front of us and one behind us, I see her face suddenly darken. From nowhere there is a form moving around the back window against my car and round towards her window… I have an instant flashback to a horrendous smash n grab that I had last year and my body goes into “hijack” mode as I hit my hooter and squeeze through the gap I so thankfully left open for possible escape, shoot through the red robots and screech around the corner… hands shaking combined with lots of swearing and screeching… The other two cars scattered through the red lights as fast as we did, leaving the well dressed man in our nightmares.
I dropped her off and prepared myself for the ride into the city, promising to call her if I was worried and to let her know I was safe. It wasn’t that late.
And then it happened… I crossed the Queen Elizabeth bridge that runs parallel to Madiba’s bridge and suddenly I started feeling calmer. As I navigated my slick route home, catching up with my green light speed, I realised that I felt suddenly safe. Waving to my friend the night guard, I slid through the red robot, not taking any chances tonight. And toot… home safe and sound.
Lying in my bed later on and listening to the voices on the streets below me of people walking, cleaning and shouting… I felt glad to be a part of it. So glad to be a part of this hip young city that’s got a real good fighting chance to be everything it promises.
My eyes are on the fashion district next, it’s moving forward fast and it seems to be the most recent “golden address” as far as inner city development goes… Rumours have it that a certain ‘famous’ clothing designer is moving his entire operation into his new 300m2 loft that he is renting in the district. The place is colourful, buzzing and full of aspiring fashionistas.
We’ve always said that the city was never ‘gone’, as a friend put it so well the other day: “It’s just that people with money are choosing to live there now.”
I don’t agree entirely as our block is made up of hard-working people from all walks of life who are all here for different reasons, but there’s definitely a feeling of a growing safe community on the rise. Come on people… be a fire-starter!
MAP OF THE FUTURE FASHION DISTRICT from Joburg.org the fabulara Official web site of the City of Johannesburg.
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22 May
I know it’s been a long time and I have to apologise for that but for various reasons I was pulled away from the inner city living… GOOD NEWS is that I AM BACK.
Did you know that the city is really quiet at night? Yip – so quiet that I manage to sleep late nearly every day… BUT WHAT ABOUT ALL THE SIRENS… I hear you shout? Well those sirens are not blaring in the city centre!
I remember my geography teacher from high school drumming the whole “CBD” concept into our heads… he regularly pointed out that Johannesburg was not built like most CBD’s the world over – with residential mixed with business… He explained that Residential areas were all outside of the Joburg CBD which is why the city goes to sleep round 7pm when the last few commuters pass through it’s windy streets. Interesting what we can remember hey!
Anyway I woke up with a start at around 3am wondering “where am I?”.. peeping my nose out my duvets into the minus-3 degree winter weather was rather unpleasant. SO I tossed and turned for a while drifting through my dream re-runs in my mind trying to return to their sweet surrender. That didn’t work, so I decided to tiptoe through to my lounge to look out at the sleeping city… Not a sound. Not a person… only one car in the distance. I tried to go back to sleep but found that my mind was far too awake. I decided that today I would document a couple of POSITIVE suggestions for the CBD that I believe would make the world of difference.
Now before I go into them, please note that I am not by any means an expert – just an everyday city dweller with some international living experiene. ALSO – very important – I am not asking for a POLICE state – just a little more calm…
First of all let’s put it into context:
1. Many of my friends – black, white, suburban, urban, are all somewhat nervous driving through the city at night…. that may be because the streets are almost entirely deserted with no help in sight and all businesses firmly closed. You know that Jozi empty street tumble-weed feeling with a car creeping up on the left hand side at the red robot? Yes we know there are camera’s but we don’t know where and if they will be able to help in case of panic. Let’s face it we live in a society filled with crime (just read the paper if you want to debate this – let’s not beat around the bush)… so these concerns are fairly firmly based and not just paranoia.
As a friend so sweetly put it “Every time I drive through the city at night I feel like I am on the worst episode of Fear Factor and that I may lose the game at any point. Adrenalin high of note. Huge relief when I get to your house.”
2. Driving in the city during the day is like jumping in front of a train. Actually it’s the other way round – the pedestrians who jay-walk all over the place make you feel like a train-driver constantly dodging people on the tracks. Very nerve-wracking.
3. In the day generally the only official/police presence can be seen near the Supreme Court hanging out with the heavies… – Now anyone that has ever travelled to any other ‘metropolis’ city centre will tell you that the police/official/traffic cop presence is EVERYWHERE. They are not walking around with AK47’s trying to arrest people… it’s more of a ‘feel-safe’ factor. They are there to help you out if and when things go wrong. They are often on foot (or in the UK on horses) but always round a corner. THey are a great deterrent to crime and make tourism so much easier…
4. The litter in the city at the end of the day is unfathomable. Then you have the women who spend the whole night sweeping it up and cleaning it up… in the morning it’s all fresh and clean… but by tea-time it’s a mess. Very depressing job we guess.
So that said – here are my three main recommendations:
1. Re-instate some kind of penalty for jay-walking in the city. We must be re-trained to WALK when the green man is flashing only. How many times in the morning do we hear “pedestrian knocked over… pedestrian killed….”. We are all guilty of it but good citizenship requires an effort on everyone’s part to act for the betterment of the lives of the collective.
2. While we’re about it – we need another ZIBI campaign – we need to instate some kind of penalty system for littering. It works all over the world – why are we so scared to do it here? Let’s clean up our act!!! There is no excuse for litter to be such a societal ill with so many bins around. Come on people!
3. For any of the points above to be effectively enforced and for people to feel safer in the city – we need to feel the presence of “OFFICIALS” – we don’t use the word POLICE here as we don’t want to encourage force or threat as a means to improve our lives. But we need lots and lots of friendly, brave-looking OFFICIALS who will make you think twice before you run that red light, cross in front of moving traffic, throw your empty can on the floor or wee against a wall.
I KNOW THAT THERE ARE MANY MORE IMPORTANT ISSUES TO BE ADDRESSED in our society such as AIDS, POVERTY, UNEMPLOYMENT – but this forum focusses on THE CITY and that’s my issue as a tenant of the CITY.
Please share your thoughts with me I would love to hear what you think. Am I dreaming or can we as citizen’s have our say in making Jozi a better place?
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9 April
So what are Friday nights for if not to get a few friends over and have a few drinks together? Luckily I have the craziest bunch of friends who are up for any challenge, especially if it involves alcoholic beverages after a long week.
I have always known that my buddies were a bit loco – in other words they have the most amazing energy and vibe – but the madness that was to engulf my little bunch of friends in my little city flat so early on a Friday night was pretty unbelievable – even for someone who has come to expect the unexpected.
Let’s start with Boogie, who helped me set up the room and carry all my stuff upstairs… she couldnt believe the views – being there at sunset meant that she really got the beauty of living in the city in her face. We both found ourselves leaning out of the windows on the 13th floor ignoring the ‘set-up’ for the drinks party and staring down at the city rush-hour. There is something magical and mesmerising about being up above the world and having a birds-eye view. Put it this way, Boogie got the dancefloor going not long after the first guests arrived. The madness had already slipped in through the window.
Then there was my very outspoken and sometimes very loud friend Shishi who arrived at the same time as Thru, a fine divine young man who had already seen the flats but wanted to see them again. As we travelled up the still-shaky lifts Shishi very confidently proclaimed that she was “not going to be fooled by all this talk about living in town and blah blah … all this hype that the city is the place to be and that we must come here bulldust. There’s no ways I will ever live here. This place freaks me out and that’s that. Good for you Sisiwami but you can keep your lofty city ideals – kind of thing and I will keep my suburbs…” And this from a young, progressive, open-minded ex-township girl… Anyway, Thru and I looked at each other with older and wiser eyes and just smiled. Guess what happened once she hit the apartment? She fell apart. (excuse the pun).
Shishi couldnt believe the views, the skies, the space, the finishes, the lighting, the size, the comfort. I actually saw her fall in love. And believe me this girl plays hard to get. She was Boogie’s partner in crime that opened the dancefloor – with all four of my crazy guests waving their hands in the air… the love was flowing all around.
Of course the party didn’t stay at 4 ‘norman-no-mates’ on the dance floor – although I didn’t want to overdo it on my first shindig in the city flat so kept the numbers down… As the night flew by about 15 different friends passed through the cuckoo zone, everyone getting caught up and losing their inhibitions a little and getting seriously down on the dancefloor. You know who you are.
Another friend of mine Gazza, on seeing me juggling all my guests on my own (the man was on a boys spree and would only arrive later – him and his sloshed friend making a remarkable sozzled entrance…) decided to put her special spin on the smoothie maker and whip up the Strawberry daquiris I had been threatening everyone with all evening. One may blame the delirious state of my guests on these delicious monsters… but I have my doubts.
One by one my friends drifted off to another bash somewhere else (pleading with us to go along!) and Boogie and I found ourselves after midnight leaning out of a window gazing down on a quiet sleeping city… We must have stayed there for at least half an hour… not saying much, just drinking in the the quiet urban inhalations and exhalations. When her lift arrived we reluctantly pulled ourselves back into the flat and smiled at each other with a look that says “I know your secret”. I opened the apartment door and saw her out, and I couldnt help but let those words come out:
“Same place Same time Next week?” Nodding confidently she turned and walked down the corridor. Somehow I know we’re going to be in trouble.
PS: To answer the comments: Curious… I believe during Apartheid I would have been classified as white? But right now I tend to consider myself to be a bit of a hybrid. 🙂 Any particular reason you would like to know that for? About the Chicken Licken bit – yes, to Nana2’s response, we were round the corner from our apartment reception and we had made a plan by then! For pictures Cher please email the editor and she can send you some!
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3 April 2006
Today I took occupation of my beautiful flat in the city. Thank goodness the decor is minimalist ‘cos it looks like my furniture may be going that way too. It’s on the 13th floor of a building and consists of a large open-plan living and kitchen area, a bathroom and a big bedroom. Because it’s on the corner of the block, i have windows on both sides of my flat and an amazing view of the city.
I live right near the Supreme Court. Today as I was unpacking I heard sirens downstairs, running to my window I realised that I was watching Jacob Zuma’s escort bringing him back to the court after lunch. There were four or five big black cars with blue sirens blaring, the traffic cops had already cordoned off the road in front of the court where I had seen faithful protesters hanging out with their now rather tired-looking signs. One of the cars went zooming through the fast-opened main parking gate while the other cars just stopped in front of it and two MIB (men in black) jumped out of each car. They looked very serious, very trained and very big. The men then did a kind of dance as their eyes scoured the crowd and they formed a circular formation, quickly running into the closing gates and surrounding the main car in which we assume, Jacob Zuma was seated. The car then inched along through the parking lot which ran the length of the side of the courthouse – like peacocks on heat, the MIB’s continued to dance in circles around the car, as their heads moved around – eyes on all sides scanning for any movement or suspicious person.
The car crept silently all the way to the end of the parking and then slunk around the corner into what must be a hidden back entrance into the court. The ululating crowds slunk back towards the shade, continuing to chew on a hot mielie bought from a stall holder or to re-light that smoke that they had quickly stubbed out. Moving away from the window, I realised that I had a huge grin stretching across my face. At last, I was living in the heart of the action. No more mundane suburbs for me.
6pm
OH SHITE – electricity, how could I forget that my new flat runs on a meter system? Those bourgeois days of simply paying a bill through online transfer at the end of each month without looking at the amount are well over. Locking the flat, my boyfriend and I run to the shaky lifts and take a ride downstairs stopping for three ghosts on the way. I must talk to the landlord about these lifts that keep stopping on certain floors for no visible guests. A friendly guy in the lift tells us that if we hurry, we can run to Pick n Pay in the Carlton Centre and purchase our electricity there. We move quickly into Smal St mall following our new friend who is also on his way there – Smal St mall is a usually packed out long narrow tunnel of clothing and fashion shops that crosses from one side of Joburg city all the way to the other – shoppers paradise. The mall is bustling with people rushing up and down – on their way to a taxi, a lift, Carlton Centre, a warm house. The sun has already gone down and it feels electric to be part of the night-time pedestrian rush-hour. Just like I imagined it. We get a few amused looks, just like the ones we got when we were carrying our couch up the mall earlier in the day to get to our entrance… the question was asked, when last do you think whiteys were spotted carrying a couch through the Smal st mall? But generally everyone, as my friend Lesego says so well “being typically African” has been so welcoming and hospitable.
Our guide points us in the direction of Pick n Pay as he disappears to draw some money from one of the numerous banks around us, my man is delighted to have passed a number of open take-aways on the way – Chicken Licken (his new favourite discovery), Macdo’s, Steers, KFC, Nando’s… you name it Smal St mall has it. I see he is getting to like the idea of living downtown.
We run into PicknPay and stop dead in our tracks in utter disbelief. The queue’s for each counter – and all of the tills are open – snake all the way up through the aisles almost to halfway – a quick estimate looks like 50 people per line. We look to our usual repose – the cigarette counter – the q must be 100 people deep. We look at each other and realise we only have 20 minutes before our first guests arrive and we certainly don’t have time to q. We decide to try and make another plan – to call a friend and ask her to get our token code off my computer at my other house. Gathering our energy we start walking back towards the flat.
As we come out of Carlton Centre, now that we are strolling, we stop to smell the roses a bit and realise that we are passing through lines of people q’ing – we stop and look up and down the road, the lines stretch to around 200 to 300 people deep each, all waiting for transport home. We realise just how spoilt we have been and just how ungrateful we are for our cars. It hits us hard as we look at each other and walk slowly across the road to Chicken Licken to order a quick take-away. I sit down on a stool and gaze out of the window, the impact of those q’s still swirling my thoughts around in my head.
Suddenly I hear loud laughter at the door and look up to see two familiar faces, Refilwe and Mosobetsi, two musicians from our band Pesheya who are doubled over with laughter.
“What on earth are you two clowns doing here now?” shrieks Fifi. “Did you really get the flat?” asks Mo. We always drop the guys off at Carlton after a late band practice to catch a private taxi back to Soweto, I had mentioned the flat to them on one of these trips and they had laughed then: ” Why on earth would you want to live in the city dudes? That’s so crazy. We’re trying to get out of Soweto into the suburbs and you guys are going to the city… that’s cuffed up.”
They have to run, they’re off to another rehearsal with their other band UJU: “Watch out for your bags SisiWami, shouts FIFI, this is not Sandton.” I kick him as he runs off laughing, he knows very well that over my dead body would I ever live in Sandton.
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