Coming home to Hillbrow

Saturday, 7 September 1996

In a city as violently cosmopolitan as Johannesburg, finding the right place to live is not so easy...

THERE have been lots of helpful people giving me advice since I arrived in Egoli. "You've just got to live in the right area, dahling." Or: "Some areas are just not good for one's career."

Easy for them to say. Last time I lived in this part of the world was as a student at Wits in 1983.

And if you were a darkie with my ancestry, you lived in Lenasia -- end of story.

I went through a few weeks of rising at five to get a ride with my father at six from his house into central Lenasia, some 10km away.

There, I would catch the 7am bus which would bring me onto campus 20 minutes late for the 8.30am start of class.

And after a few weeks of this, I decided enough was enough and moved into a flat in Hillbrow to live illegally with friends.

Darkies paid more for the privilege of living in those flats than whities. We still had to put up with the knock on the door at 3am of the friendly Group Areas police.

And since we were there illegally, we had no recourse to the law when possessions were swiped, cars were broken into. . .

But the luxury of being able to rise at 7.30 and walk to the 8.30 lecture and still make it in time was quite irresistible.

So what I remember now are warm sunny afternoons strolling down to Joubert Park to read while Kashnie played on the swings with that particular glee of a five-year-old who has received an unexpected treat.

What would it be like to live in Hillbrow today?

I called up a friend who Knows About These Things, and the conversation went something like this:

Me: "I've found a house. It's absolutely perfect. It's close to town, close to shops, close to the bus routes..."

She: "Where is it?"

Me: "Hillbrow"

She: "What?"

Me: "Yes, it's a really nice house too. Really old, but lots of character."

She: "Kanthan, you haven't really bought a place in Hillbrow, have you?"

Me: "Why, yes."

She: "But it's not safe."

Me: "Of course it's safe. Do you know that the police are there nearly all the time? Anyway, the nice man with the scar and tattoos told me so."

She: "What nice man?"

Me: "The man who was standing outside the house selling headache tablets. I thought that was rather odd since there is a 24 hour pharmacy down the road, but he said people preferred the convenience of buying at their door."

She: "Headache tablets?"

Me: "Yes. He even offered me free samples! He also had this new nasal spray that was in a powder that you have to inhale through ten rand notes."

She: "Nasal spray . . ."

Me: "Yes, but I said no thanks even though he thinks it's better than Vicks."

She: "Does this house have good security?"

Me: "Well, it's got this little white picket fence all around it, but the ends are pointed, so I don't think anyone will climb over."

She: "And what does Kate think about this?"

Me: "Oh, she loves it. We'd heard that the area was unsafe for women, but it's clearly quite alright."

She: "What do you mean?"

Me: "Well, it was late at night and there were all of these women walking about and standing on street corners wearing really racy clothing. They even accept lifts from strangers. They wouldn't do that if it wasn't safe now, would they?"

She: "But you can't bring up a child in Hillbrow!"

Me: "Why not?"

She: "Well, there are no schools there."

Me: "We talked about that as well. But then I figured that since the subsidies for private schools are being cut, we wouldn't be able to give her a quality education anyway, but we're not worried."

She: "Why not?"

Me: "Well, the RDP is supposed to be taking care of that sort of stuff. You know, a better life for all? So she doesn't really need an education."

She: "You're quite mad."

Sigh. Pessimists all over the place. Now where's that polite man with the AK-47 who borrowed my car?