Monday 22 April 2013

Johannesburg Will Break Your Heart



“Johannesburg is a rich substance for the artist’s mind.”
Veronique Tadjo
Out of body experiences come from one of two things for me; live music and anything that fuels my purpose here. The allure of the city and its tales are as true as ‘a secret love’ affair, one that Luther Vandross knew all too well about. Secret love in that there are sacred parts of Johannesburg that complete my human experience, however outside of these sacred spaces the city has never been anything to write home about. Write about and share with others the valleys and greens of various rural areas around the country, those are . I would not dare delude people into a romanticised view of this place that I currently call home. Apart from the glorious Johannesburg skyline, food and late nights, life here is inspired by work and ultimately a kick-push dance towards any form of success. At the very least, we could settle for a well established and comfortable life along balconies, which look onto ponds and lakes from Jan Smuts to William Nicol. Although we long for the comfort of these homes, the joy of caffe lattes, there is a dark and eerie cold that breathes past the city lines.
Discomfort and fear are true components of city life, no matter where in the world you are and although this blueprint is engraved on our memory, we hardly recall to look before we cross the road or better yet to not talk to strangers and so forth. In as much as our minds know of the danger spoken of in taxis or conversations you hear when passing by Mandela Bridge. It hardly sinks in that this city in particular is not your friend, until you find yourself becoming one of those people whose incidents are unreported and if they were… not much would be done anyway.
So what is it that you do when Johannesburg attempts to run away with all your stuff?  My first encounter of the safety/comfort thief was late last year, when walking from Noord to Bree, which is an exercise I engage in often enough to not even feel the distance. Having two men follow you without notice, things happen so fast that the next thing you know one is rubbing against your arm telling you to hand him your phone and he does not forget to bring to your attention the man behind you who holds a knife to your back so as to make sure that you have no way out. Here I recall human instinct kicking in and all I could do then was run because firstly where do you get the nerve to take something from somebody whose struggle you know nothing of? Although both of them ran after me there is something about making friends with the vendors that you pass daily, they act as agents who comfort you when in distress. The idea posed by the two rather ambitious men was that I would not run, that I would give in and become so afraid in my own city that I would experience immediate amnesia and not be able to take refuge anywhere. It is my greeting the man who sells me ama skoppas from time to time that saved my life that day.
But, one thing I walked away with is a sense of fear that leaves me so exhausted because the system does nothing to ensure that we are safe, although we may rant and risk losing ourselves amidst the melancholy, the alternative is that we wait and carry on with our lives but be more alert than we are normally. These are the wars spoken of in Isibaya, that taxi routes draw not only the taxi owners and rival competitors but the people who use this mode of transport into the conflict. We find ourselves in unsafe areas and situations that we re-experience each time we approach the city, the aura around us changes and this I know for sure. I hope that we can soon recollect the pieces and find in ourselves ways to weave together the confidence that has been taken by the man who has followed you and stared you down so close to undressing you. The men that have grabbed onto your body as though this is another teenage movie and you are the outcast that is used as a utensil for endless jokes with mates. And what of the taxi marshals that walk around as though their presence moves you and you owe them a response on your knees, bare feet, with your breasts in the air, completed with a tray and a cup overflowing with African beer?
Unfortunately for them, we are not cut from the same cloth, one that systematically classifies anything outside of males as inferior. When the old man that stands outside of Bree C4 grabbed me to tell me that I am ‘his girlfriend and should not walk past him as though I do not know him as he gives me money to go to the hair salon’. I honestly felt like I was starring in my own cyber space flick where I am a replica of every alien female who never voices her thoughts in meetings over world domination. It took so much from me to push him away and tell him not to speak to me like that and I will not have it. People around you see the conflict but walk on by when they see that you are scared past understanding and you need their help. There is nothing enlightened about not helping other people. Johannesburg walks away with our stuff, every day and the very same people who are quick to ask you for help will blink twice and think before even helping you. It is sad that fatherhood, manhood and human-hood are complex findings that complicate society. You can never differentiate human-hood from a man brought up of patriarchal understanding. It is the basis of violence, greed and all ills that take from equality. 
It is true that I have been afraid of the place that is home as of late, afraid as no matter how we try to extend love or whatnot to these men there is a heaviness and darkness that will always want to take and it is to be obeyed or else!
What is it that you do when your partner cannot swing you around when crossing the road because your heart is no longer the same, or your reflex is to jump out of your skin if someone wants to hold your hand? Rather… it’s about holding yourself together so that the predator does not smell the fear that oozes out of you. You are in fact born anew when Johannesburg has attempted to walk away with your stuff; one sure thing is that it takes your kindred child spirit that is formed on living freely. However, I must say this to you (and to myself) let no place or person walk away with your stuff. One day I will once again swing in full force when crossing the road, with air across my face, with my muse, something like the smell of fresh scones will be the air I breathe that day. Then the ‘eyes of my eyes will see and the ears of my ears will hear’ a brand new melody.

- Nomanqoba Mthembu.




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