Give it a Year - Day 336

Three hundred and sixty-five days of living in Johannesburg is almost here, dear friends. And what better time than any, I get a mail from a friend in Durban asking me what it’s been like thus far. From what I can tell she’s braving the move, so to help her out I thought a little summary of my year would be a perfect opportunity to unblock this writers stall and indulge her and enlighten you to a city I will now call home for yet another three hundred and sixty-five days. 

So here goes…

She says in her mail “ I know you grew a very large pair of testicles and made the move.” I don’t think it was ever about “growing a pair” It was more about outgrowing Durban. The opportunities to make a life in Durban became harder. The thought patterns became a saturated circle of the same ideas, same people and I felt less and less motivated to follow a dream. Weekends became the same activities all surrounded by the ocean, getting a tan (well, not in your case Angie) having a braai and watching the rugga. Driving out to the midlands, or taking a costal trip got harder, as again, the motivation in our twenty-something brains felt more comfort, stagnated and drained from fighting in the same pool in the office every week. My move came from a pull of something different, and push away from the same old. It definitely wasn’t about growing a pair, it was just about growing. 

I remember driving away from Durban for the first time, the further I got, the looser the noose around my comfort strings got. It was like Durban let me go, and as I neared the big smoke I felt a pull unlike any. She (Johannesburg) in all her wintery smog engulfed me into the type of welcoming hug you experience from a friend that you havnt seen in a very long time. My nostrils burnt from the dryness, and my eyes tried to adjust to the initial ugliness she is. Winter is not a good look on her. But as I cornered into my new home I was surprised at the beauty she has hidden. 

Johannesburg is about diversity, it’s the people that make the city. At first glance I get why we are drilled from afar of why it’s such a shitty place to live. All you see when we set the stage are actors that play on crime, cold and a money making propaganda of no use to the twenty-something creatives that are all shipped to Cape Town to fall into self expression. Listen here, Joburg is self expression. I look at the city and there is not one neighbourhood that isn’t created by it’s community.  It’s more alive than any city I have been in, it’s more real and exactly where any dream is created and guess what? Where all dreams are actually followed through. It's not a forever place, but the place we all need to start with.

Making friends with Joburg is a tad harder than making friends with it’s people. A ring full of roads with the closest place of convenience just, “20 minutes away”, for a Durbanite this was the first bit of “Wow, this city is big!” and “Down the road can’t possibly be the difference between Kloof and Durban central, because that’s a day trip, right?". My faith became my GPS as landmarks move quicker than the night (Joburg’s infrastructure is an evolutionary project, buildings go up and buildings come down. It’s a man made battle to win the sky, so nothing is the same for very long.) and difference between the M1 and N1 is the difference between getting home at night or “you’re lost, you might as well park and take the train.” 

It’s, to say it bluntly, scary learning the curves in her structure. But once you get it, it’s like conquering the moon. Back roads, ain’t nothing but a thang, (unless you venture North then I can’t help you, Fourways and I still havnt become friends). 

The weather? Jozi’s winter is harsh. It comes with no warning and you are left bone cold and grasping for moisture. The farce of the sun is just there to comfort you and let you know that summer still exists, somewhere. The fashion options are just layers of fun, knits, boots and scarves for days, which makes it bareable and sparks new excitement into the frosty air. Then Spring, my most favourite season in this city arrives, butterfly swarms decorate the streets like spring snowflakes, it’s awakening and magical. Onto summer storms, loud enough to deafen a deaf man and like clock work at 5pm they come and they go leaving you with rainbows, and sunsets that welcome you home after a long day. 

It’s the nature of Joburg to pull you into a work drive that at times makes you want to die and then lift your spirits so high in it’s natural beauty that makes it all ok. The intensity of it’s pace becomes a drug, in all aspects. 

So did I find it easy to make friends? I don’t think I have ever had a problem making friends, but in this city, the people are warm, we only really have each other and because of the diversity in it’s culture everyone is looking for a new lunch date, a new dancing buddy or someone to call for a sneaky glass of wine on a Sunday afternoon. And the most bizarre thing is that when you meet someone at a bar, and exchange numbers.. they actually call! The people of Joburg want to get to know you, I have a ridiculously diversity in my friends, from Jews, to Greeks, Polish, English, German and Bulgarians.. cliques don’t exist here. So it’s best to leave your apprehensions elsewhere. We’re open, everyday. 

I feel like I could go one about the greatness here, I could go on for days, but I can’t tell you that you are going to be right for Joburg, I honestly think it’s like an arranged marriage. You aren’t really sure about her in the beginning but over time you can’t help but fall so deeply in love with her that living anywhere else could not match up to what she has to offer. 

So on that note Angie: I would take the leap, it’s only 550kms from “home” and if you don’t like it, go home. But give it time. Live the four seasons with open arms and embrace a new adventure. As a creative there is no better place than here. And I am here. 

Ah friends, I can't wait to move into my new home in a week and start all over again, in my new neighbourhood, in the same city and for the millionth time see it with completely different eyes. 

I need YOUR help - Day 246

I’ve never been victim of crime but what happened to me on Tuesday 18th March at 9.48pm at the onramp from Rivonia Road (heading East on the N1) was a pure act of corruption, one which left me raging and albeit extremely shaken up. The Johannesburg Metro Police Department needs to wake up to the existence of corrupt employees within their ranks. It is just not good enough that a lone female cannot drive around at night and fear for her safety, especially from those who are in charge of her safety and overall well-being.

I am writing this not only to make you aware, but for you to use as an official statement in order to escalate this matter. I’ve had enough, and I am sure there are a lot of women out there that feel the same but do not have the voice to do anything about it.

9.48pm – I had just left work after a long night and day of creative brainstorming for a presentation we had to give the next day. My brain is shattered as this is the third consecutive night I am leaving work late. All I want to do is get home, home being twenty minutes from the office, via the N1 and onto the M1 towards Norwood.

I had decided to phone a friend as I am leaving - I needed a familiar voice and someone to offload the daily happenings too, as my phone starts to ring through my car radio system - *Note: it’s completely handsfree - I had looked around the corner and a policeman had his hands out to pull me over. I hang up and follow his prompts.

There are 2 other policemen standing by, one which has just pulled over a bottle green new Opel Astra in front of me, the other standing behind my car. The officer who pulled me over (perpetrator) had summoned me to wind down my window. The policeman is about 6ft tall, he’s wearing his beige, what I can tell are normal uniform pants, no hat and he is very light in colour. He is quite built, borderline chubby but definitely someone I wouldn’t mess with. One thing I do remember is that he had a soft face, maybe this is why my fear stayed at bay throughout the entire situation.

As I roll down my window he immediately told me that talking on my phone was a R500 fine. I politely told him that I was not talking on my phone and that it is coming through my car radio and that it is a handsfree set. I then told him that I did not have any cash on me, which in hindsight is admitting a crime. At this point he was leaning through my window and looking into my car. I am wearing a dress, and his next comment completely throws me. “You have very sexy legs”. I replied with a “Thank you” and ask him if I could go. He then, completely ignored me. He had started to ask me where I am from, which I reply Durban (My car has an NU numberplate) and where I am travelling too. I said that I am on my way home to Melrose.

The questions start to get more intimate:

Policeman: “Do you live alone?”

Me: “No”

Policeman: “Do you have a husband?”

Me: “No”

Policeman: “Why not?”

Me: (thinking in my head, that is a good question) but I reply with a blunt, “I don’t have time”

At this point he asked me for my license which I suddenly realised was in my wallet and I did not want him to see that I indeed had money. But I could not let him see it, as I refused to bribe my way out of this situation. I opened my wallet and slowly start to fish for my license, I had finally found it, which by this stage, he had begun stroking my arm. My entire being wanted to punch him in the face, but calmly I let him carry on. I handed him my license. He stepped away from my window, read it and gave it back.

He then starts the mandatory walk around the car situation, stops at my registration disk, where he pointed at it and walked back to my window.

He told me to get out, which I again reply, “No.”

Policeman: “Your license (disk) has expired”

Completely aware of this I had stated that I still had a month to go before he can legally accuse me. I had also explained that I am from Durban, which meant that registration renewals (as I have learnt) can only be done in the city of your number plate, so A.) It is impossible for me to do this until I get back to Durban and B.) His point was completely null in void, as asking me to get out the car is illegal. Upon my refusal to exit my vehicle, perpetrator (the very same Johannesburg Metro Police Officer) upped my fine to R1500.00. At this stage, I once again replied that I did not have cash on me.

What happened next is still unbelievable – especially a Johannesburg Metro Police Officer of the law, one who behaved in a sexual, opportunistic manner, just blows my mind.

He walked back towards my open window, grabbed his package (genitals) and shakes it in my face.

Policeman: “Look at me, look how horny I am, don’t you want to take me home?”

At this point, looking back at this moment, I am unable to understand how I kept such a calm demeanour. This was blatant sexual harassment.

He carried on, now at this point with both hands LITERALLY trying to shove his hard-on (erection) in my face through my window.

Policeman: “Just LOOK at me baby, look how horny I am. I haven’t had sex in months, can’t you help me?”

Me: “Look I am really tired, and I just want to go home. I am sorry, you are an officer of the law, please can I go?”

At that moment, I had stared straight ahead - my whole body felt numb. From this point I must have completely blanked out as the next thing I remember is him standing back, walking to opposite pavement, leaning over and tying his shoelace.

I think it took me a while to click back into “Drive!” mode, but when I realised I was free, I did not look back.

The shock must have caught up with me at that moment, as I just burst into tears and cried hysterically all the way home - I cannot remember that drive.

Listen, I am an incredibly strong woman, and have the knack of talking myself out of many situations, but in a situation like this there is only so much strength one can muster. If I had reacted, what would have been the outcome? If I had gotten out the car with absolute no sense, what would have been the outcome?

There are woman out there who would have made that situation a lot worse, especially when lacking such composure. It is not good enough that someone who is there to check that we are safe, and do his job, takes the liberty to exploit a lone woman driver. Especially for sexual opportunities.

Last night I got pulled over again, as I saw the flashing lights of an all familiar torch, my entire being froze. I was NOT ready to go through this again. However, the policeman that had pull me over was incredibly helpful and as soon as he saw I was a woman told me to drive on and get home safely. He even noticed my number plate and has asked me if I knew how to get to where I was going.

I need to say that even though I have been through this experience, it is not something that is going to leave me. BUT I do not believe that every policeman is like this, but what about that 1/100 that is? Why should I relive this fear every time I get pulled over? It’s just not acceptable.

I plan to take matters further and bring this type of behavior to the light that is justice. But I need your help. I know this is not the first time this has happened to a single lady so I need your stories. Please send any information of this type of behaviour to me as I am compiling a blog WITH COMPLETE anonymity of our stories. It is the first step that I can take to create some sort of movement. Some of you may not think that this is of any use, but I have a voice and I plan to use it with my incredible support behind me (and Social Media networks). We need to create awareness which will hopefully transpire into safer roads for single woman to drive on.

Please send any experiences of this matter to: Jemma@socialbrand.co.za

As I have stated, absolutely everything that is published will be completely anonymous. I am prepared to put my name out there on your behalf. I need a base in which to present in court and unfortunately my experience alone is not enough to warrant an actual investigation.

Keep safe ladies, and please remember never to be the hero. If you are uncomfortable in any situation, ask the police officer to follow you to the nearest police station.

NOTE: I am specifically looking at your experiences in the greater Johannesburg area at this moment. 

A city that sleeps - Day 18

I woke up this morning to an unusual sense of quiet. The light filtering through my curtains was softer, grayer, silent. The sound of the traffic seemed to have been chased away by all the gray surrounding the suburbs. A soft mist had settled on the streets as if to stroke the city into obedience.

It was warm.  

Usually a gray day in Durban would mean pulling the duvet over ones head and faking some overcast sickness. But in Joburg, on my very first gray day, I needed to touch this quiet that felt so unusual. 

Salomons on and hood up I paced down the street. Big puffs of breath exhaled away from my body, as the sound of takkie on tar echoed in the street like an apocalyptic apology.

It was glorious. 

As I reached the park, the grass gave way to a soft push which was different from the frosty crunch I had been so used to. The trees lay almost petrified in their sleep, not daring to wake the airiness of the gray day. 

From the view of the park I can normally summon the city into my day, setting the tone of ambition I daily crave. But this was a different day, a Tuesday that refused to give me sight of anything five paces ahead. Tears of cold ran down my face, and my smile grew into an awkwardly, gallant giggle.

Who knew this sneaky city slept.