Destiny sits snuggled between two makeshift gazebos. The plastic legs of his stool bend as he rocks back and forth. To his left hang bundles of hair and to his right, packed neatly, is an array of the sneakers he sells.
Unperturbed by the blistering heat, piercing sounds and pungent smells that engulf Johannesburg’s city centre, he sits fixated on anyone who shows the slightest bit of interest in any of his items.
An elderly lady walks past hastily, clutching her purse under her arm. She gazes at Destiny’s stand, motioning towards a size two sneaker, its Puma stamp slightly peeled. Destiny is up in seconds.
“How much?” asks the bag clutcher.
“R250,” responds Destiny.
“My son is a size three,” says the bag clutcher, replacing the sneaker.
Destiny begins packaging the shoes in a black plastic bag. Placing it in his customer’s hand, he says: “This is a big size two madam. If you have problems, bring it back.”
Hesitantly, the bag clutcher fondles out a couple of notes from her bosom.
Destiny is quick to return her change, thanking her simultaneously.
SNEAKER SELLER: Destiny Ogah’s stand at the King George Street the linear market. Photo: Nadia Omar
Destiny Ogah is a 32-year-old foreign national living in Hillbrow. His dark skin and hardened hands indicate a life of long days and heavy labour. His ripped jeans and plain t-shirt barely hide his muscles that bulge through with every movement. Inconspicuously presented, the only thing that stands out are his orange Nike sneakers and bright smile.
He came to South Africa in 2012 from Lagos, Nigeria, in the hopes of finding employment. Having graduated from the University of Benin with a Bachelor of Science in Banking and Finance, he found himself without employment in a country with a vast population and very few job opportunities.
“If you don’t know someone in Nigeria who can give you a job, there is no hope for you. Graduates like me, without important friends, are left to be hooligans and beggars,” says Destiny.
Destiny operates in the linear market situated on King George Street in Johannesburg’s city centre. He is one of the many foreigners who came to South Africa for a better life, but who have resorted to trading counterfeit goods to make a living.
“Life is only a little bit better here than in Nigeria. I thought I would be able to come here and find a job as a banker or get a Master’s degree, but I have to sell these shoes to put food on my table,” says Destiny.
CBD: The entrance to Jay’s Outfitters.
A step behind Destiny’s stand is Jay’s Outfitters, a store that has been selling branded items for 37 years. Inside, the air is still, the only sound that can be heard is the occasional flip of a page by owner Yameen Mayat, who passes time by reading a daily paper.
A bell jingles, alerting him of someone entering. A young male customer enters and has a quick browse. He stumbles upon some sneakers that fit his fancy; he turns them over to view the price, replaces them and leaves the store once more. Yameen continues reading his paper.
“Business has been slow for about the last five years, ever since this linear market opened,” says Yameen.
“And, to be honest, I don’t even blame my customers. Who would be willing to pay the full price for a pair of original shoes if they can get the fake for a fraction of the price on my doorstep?” he adds.
According to a statement released by the City of Johannesburg, linear markets were first established in 2011 as a means of properly managing street trading, as well as ensuring that it did not disrupt pedestrian mobility or passing road traffic. It is an area designated for street trading in a pedestrian environment within the inner city.
After a street is chosen to host the market, the city erects a roof to indicate the presence of a linear market. Most serve as a place to purchase goods, such as clothing and electronics or as an informal area to eat for those working nearby. The linear market on King George Street is littered with stands of second-hand clothes, counterfeit goods and digital cameras. The aroma of cooked rice, spicy chicken and chakalaka camouflage the persistent smell of garbage and urine.
Yameen and his family opened Jay’s Outfitters in 1984 during the Apartheid era. Due to segregation laws, theirs was one of the very few black-owned shop in the city. At the time business was booming, the city centre was, after all, “the only place to shop”.
“Naturally, the area began to change once Apartheid laws were abolished. People of colour were allowed to come into the city and buy anything they wanted. It was an amazing time to be alive,” says Yameen.
“But things really changed when the City of Johannesburg built a linear market on the same street my store was on. We are no longer making a profit so we are shutting down at the end of the year,” he says.
“I am all for people making a living and I think the linear market helped solve a lot of the problems informal traders were experiencing, but the government has not been monitoring what is being sold in these markets. Most of the goods are fake,” says Yameen.
INFORMAL ECONOMY:The linear market on King George Street, is full of second-hand clothes, counterfeit goods and digital cameras. Photo: Nadia Omar
In a press statement released by the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development in April 2016, based on international data, it was estimated that imports of counterfeit and pirated goods are worth nearly half a trillion US dollars a year, or around 2.5% of global imports.
“It is not possible from available data to determine the exact figure fake goods are worth, but there is no denying that it is a huge problem and that it affects the market in many ways,” says Professor Imraan Valodia, a senior lecturer in economics at the University of the Witwatersrand.
According to Prof Valodia, the increase in counterfeit goods in a market represents a major threat to business and is also a key barrier to trade. The distribution of cheap and poor quality pirated goods creates an obstruction to the distribution of genuine products.
“As the global trade in counterfeit goods is growing, Africa is increasingly being targeted as a market for counterfeit merchandise. Fake goods are not being produced to any significant degree in Africa. These products are mostly imported from Asia, and particularly China,” says Prof Valodia.
As such, Africa is fast becoming a “dumping ground” for knock-off goods. A very high percentage of counterfeit shipments from China are destined for Africa, either directly or via ports such as Karachi, Dubai or Hong Kong, in an effort to disguise the country of origin.
“The problem of fake goods is increasingly serious and the continent is fast becoming fair game for counterfeiters and it is hurting, not only South Africa, but the entire continent’s population and economy,” says Prof Valodia.
UNREAL: The fake sneakers Destiny sells. Photo: Nadia Omar
Wayne Minnaar, spokesperson for the Johannesburg Metropolitan Police Department, says the department deploys “counterfeit operations” continuously but as quickly as the goods are confiscated, the traders manage to replace their stock.
“These operations are held by the Gauteng Law Enforcement Agency Forum (GLEAF) which consists of all law enforcement agencies in Gauteng and brand managers who are working together to try and combat this problem,” says Minnaar.
According to the spokesperson, GLEAF receives tip-offs from the community, mostly shop owners, that fake goods are being sold. The agency then goes into the market and confiscates all the items, which are then transported to warehouses to be disposed of.
“Counterfeit goods are being sold all over the country at a rapid rate,” says Minnaar. “It is difficult keep it off the street but we [JMPD] are doing our best.”
One such “Counterfeit Operation” occurred in October 2013 called “Operation Clean Sweep”. The purpose of the operation was to move towards creating a safe and habitable environment within Johannesburg’s city centre.
“We managed to impound 528 counterfeit goods, one bad building and arrested 192 illegal immigrants,” says Minnaar.
The operation, which saw thousands of legal and illegal traders without an income for weeks, received major criticism from the South African National Traders Retail Association (Santra) and the South African Informal Traders Forum (SAITF). The Socio-Economic Rights Institute of South Africa (Seri), acted on behalf of SAITF, and filed an application for an interdict in the high court against the city for “illegally and violently” removing traders.
According to a press statement released by Seri, the traders were evicted even though each had a right to trade in the area, granted through permits issued by the City of Johannesburg itself. Without warning or explanation, they were removed from the streets in a mass eviction operation. Many were assaulted and had their goods trashed. All lost large quantities of valuable stock.
Seri stated in a press statement that the municipality of Johannesburg did not seek to justify its “brutal and humiliating” eviction of the informal traders, nor had it been prepared to repair the damage it caused.
“Immediately after Operation Clean Sweep was abolished, things improved drastically but as time has gone on, it has deteriorated again. Traders are at risk of having their goods confiscated without warning and are regularly taken advantage of by officials,” says Nomzamo Zondo, Seri’s director of litigation, who acted for the traders.
Yameen remembers Operation Clean Sweep vividly.
“The city centre was in shambles! It was very sad to watch the police come in and remove so many people from the city. The linear market wasn’t cleared, but a lot of goods were confiscated,” he says.
“I didn’t agree with the way it was done but I do think the police must do something about all the fake goods. I have to pay a licence fee to sell original items, plus rent, levy, tax and so on. The guys outside aren’t paying anything,” says Yameen.
THE REAL DEAL:Jay’s Outfitters has been selling original, branded items since 1984. Photo: Nadia Omar
Yameen further adds in frustration: “I am paying the same rent as the store owners in Eastgate, R60 000 per month. Can you believe it?”
According to Yameen, the problem will be rectified once “the playing field” is equalised; when every trader is subjected to the law, liable to the same taxes, the same conditions of trade and to abide by all the bylaws regarding street vending.
“All I want is to be able to trade in a safe and fair environment, where every storekeeper is a legal entity, where rentals are fair and not subjected to a false demand allowing unscrupulous traders to manipulate rentals,” he says.
Yameen, noticeably frustrated, lowers his voice that was now filling the store, when he hears the bell ring indicating a customer coming in.
Outside, Destiny has offered his chair to a young man who has shown interest in a pair of navy blue Adidas sneakers.
While his customer paces a couple of steps away, feeling and examining the fit, Destiny says: “I know selling this stuff is not good, but what else must I do? I have been living in asylum for four years. I have been applying for citizenship since early 2013.”
Destiny makes a profit of around R1 000 per month. His earnings go towards the rent he pays for his room in a Hillbrow flat, food and the rent of R800 per month that he pays a South African citizen who owns his stand.
The owner of the stand then pays the City of Johannesburg a mere R100 for rent.
“I know I am being ripped off, but I cannot own my stand because I do not have an ID, so I have to go through a South African, who makes me pay eight times the price,” says Destiny.
Like many foreign nationals living in South Africa, Destiny does not enjoy citizenship and the benefits that come with it. He says the lack of a South African identification document means he cannot own property or open a bank account.
Thus, desperate for an income, he has resorted to selling counterfeit sneakers.
“It’s basic economics, there is a demand and I am creating a supply,” he says, pocketing money from the sale while returning to his original seated position.
“Besides, this stall is all I have,” he says, steadying himself on one of the poles as he rocks back and forth on his plastic stool.
FEATURED IMAGE: A photo of fake sneakers sold in the streets of Johannesburg. Photo: Nadia Omar
In-depth 2016: Joburg CBD Founded in a gold rush during the 1800s, the early days set Johannesburg’s character as busy and constantly on the move. Many came from all over the country, continent and the world to seek their fortunes. Some prospered, others did not. By...
Daily Maverick’s ‘shut down’ successfully highlighted the dire state of journalism, but also left student journalists with fears about the future.
On April 15, 2024, tens of thousands of South Africans loaded up the Daily Maverick website to read the daily news, only to find a black screen with the words ‘Daily Maverick has shut down’ in bold white lettering.
For 24 hours, the news site was shut down to highlight what Daily Maverick calls the “global state of emergency in journalism”. This state of emergency is driven primarily by economic pressures and the rapid expansion of digital technologies. Daily Maverick plainly states there is “a market failure in journalism”, which is culling off smaller news organisations and local metro press.
Daily Maverick reiterated that the shutdown is not simply for or about them – “it’s about every legitimate newsroom in the country that needs public and corporate support” to continue functioning. Without journalism, they warned, “our democracy and economy will break down”.
A screen grab of the Daily Maverick home page on April 15, 2024.
While no journalism student in the country is unaware of the issues in the field, the shutdown was still alarming and rather fear-inducing for some of us. A media communique from Daily Maverick pointed out that 70% of local journalists have left the field in the last 15 years due to this crisis.
A study by Glenda Daniels notes that the number of community newspapers countrywide has fallen from 575 to just over 250 in the last ten years, as small papers fold and their journalists leave the field. Most young people are already anxious about the job market and their prospects, but as a student journalist I feel an almost indomitable fear for my future.
Associate business editor for Daily Maverick, Neesa Moodley, speaks to the deterioration of journalism and its effect on young journalists. We no longer have the privilege to specialise in just one aspect of media like before. “In my youth, you could decide if you wanted to be a news photographer, a broadcast journalist, or a print journalist. In today’s newsrooms, you need to be able to do all three” if you want to make the cut, she says.
Even if you can conquer all these skills and enter the workforce, retrenchments and slim budgets mean mentors for young journalists are few and far between. Many experienced journalists are opting to freelance, write press releases or work as ghost writers in the corporate field. As such, “eager graduates are thrown in the deep end with little to no guidance,” says Moodley.
Spelling and grammar issues abound, and Moodley highlights the “increasing incidence of press releases used verbatim” as news articles by inexperienced and overworked juniors.
This is all part of what she calls the “juniorisation” of the newsroom – a frightening concept for us student journalists who are without established sources or intimate knowledge of the playing field. It feels rather like being made captain of a sinking ship.
But with resounding positivity, Moodley is unwilling to accept this as the new status quo. “Daily Maverick dearly hopes that the bold move we made in the last week will have kickstarted the public awareness and conversation around the funding of journalism” she says. No journalists, especially young ones without expertise, deserve to provide such an important public service with so little help.
Going forward, hopefully individuals and companies come to see the massive value difference between shoddy citizen journalism and real journalism produced by journalists with what Moodley calls a “bullshit” filter, and fierce commitment to the dogged pursuit of the truth. Journalism students can lead the charge here – we can scream from the rooftops about the crisis in journalism, and make friends, family, and peers aware of how our democracy rides on the back of quality, well-funded journalism.
Educators and mentors can be a part of this fight too. As Trish Audette-Longo and Christianna Alexiou note, it is essential to talk students through crises in the field and to encourage young journalists to “[imagine] different journalism futures” instead of simply accepting the job as it is. If we fight now for our future, then maybe by the time it becomes our present reality, the crisis will be a thing of the past.
While gaming is not a cure for depression, it helped me to grow into a more social person, to form connections with people more easily, and helped me to feel less isolated.
During the covid-19 pandemic in 2020, the lack of social interactions tied together with the fear and anxiety driven by fake news and conspiracies around vaccines in the media, caused my mental health to plummet.
It was my first year of university and before I had had a chance to form connections on campus, we were thrown into a state of disaster and the country was placed on lockdown. I spent weeks feeling sorry for myself, not knowing how to entertain myself nor who to speak to besides my family who I had been locked in the house with for over three months. Eventually I turned on my PlayStation console for solace.
While there was access to mental health services during the pandemic, many people had physical and mental restrictions that prevented them from seeking help. A democracy survey conducted by the Human Sciences Research Council and the University of Johannesburg’s Centre for Social Change and Development revealed that in 2020, an estimated 33% of South Africans were depressed, 45% were fearful of catching the virus and 29% were feeling isolated and lonely. The survey consisted of 19 330 participants of different races and backgrounds, with the majority aged 25 to 59.
I shared the sentiments expressed in the survey. That is why I turned to gaming to connect and create a reality that was less depressing than the one I found myself in.
Gaming was my way of coping with the lack of human interaction and fewer entertainment activities brought on by the nationwide lockdown. In June 2021, Forbes Technology Council reported an increase of 200% in people aged over 60 searching for games, joining the 93% of teens who game regularly, according to research data provided by G2A.com – the world’s biggest digital marketplace for gamers.
These statistics show that people globally turned to gaming during the pandemic because of the need to find alternative ways to connect and communicate with others amidst lockdown measures. I also wanted to alleviate my newfound depression brought on by harsh lockdown measures.
I started playing a multiplayer, online game called Call of Duty where I met a group of people that I consider close friends to this day. We began entering e-sports competitions where we could compete in online tournaments for cash rewards. We would do this by signing up on sites such as the African Cyber Gaming League and VS Gaming where you can connect with other people who enjoy the same game as you, and became part of a large community of people from diverse backgrounds and walks of life.
Gaming has helped me overcome social anxiety by allowing me to socialise in virtual chatrooms with people from all over the world, where I have learnt better communication skills and have been able to find people I relate to more. I always struggled to find something I was passionate about as I was not very good at schoolwork and failed dismally at sport. Finding games helped me discover my true passion for e-sports and unlocked a whole new world for me.
There are, however, studies that have found negative aspects to gaming. The Harvard Medical School reported that gaming can be associated with serious health risks such as sleep deprivation, insomnia, depression, aggression and anxiety. The report also stated that gaming can lead to a “gaming addiction”, resulting in loss of interest in activities and crucial relationships with peers, and can lead to obesity due to increased food intake while gaming. These are real issues that gamers do face, however, a general population sample report from the American Journal of Psychiatry shows that only an estimated 0.1-1% of people suffer from gaming addiction.
An American Counselling Association report also found that gaming could have negative mental health consequences including: negative coping mechanisms, unhealthy lifestyles, loneliness, isolation and depression. However, in my experience, gaming has had quite the opposite effect.
Gaming in moderation is key for absorbing the positive effects such as setting specific times to game and making sure to seek professional help when needed. To avoid the negatives associated with gaming, the Harvard Medical School suggests limiting screen time and engaging in healthy activities such as exercise or socialising physically.
Anxiety and depression are major issues the world faces today, especially after the pandemic as it has altered and changed the lives of almost everyone. Gaming is a great way to alleviate some of the strain caused by these serious mental illnesses. There are many different genres of games, so I truly believe there is a game out there for everyone to play and form connections in.
Team Vuvu 2021 Kemiso Wessie I am Kemiso Wessie. My name means ‘upliftment’ and this extends to the goal of my writing. I wish to bring light and upliftment to the lives of those that come to know my words and stories. My heart has always belonged to writing and...
The tuk-tuk industry in Melville has been bustling since 2010. With the entry of competitors such as Uber and Taxify, some drivers are getting creative in order to carve out a living for themselves and their families.
TWO BLUE blue tuk-tuks are parked at the back of the Melville Spar parking lot on Main Road. The harsh October sun beats down, transforming the small three-wheeled vehicles into something resembling a baking oven. Innocent Mbonane sits inside one of the tuk-tuks, sweat dripping down his face while he waits for his next customer.
An elderly woman walks towards Mbonane and his colleague, Nicholas Masondo. She holds a walking stick in one hand, and gingerly pushes a trolley filled with the groceries she’s just bought, with the other. Mbonane rushes to her aid and pushes the trolley the rest of the way.
PATIENCE: The heat wears Innocent Mbonane down as he waits for his next customer in the Melville Spar parking lot.
Vuyelwa Fikeni patiently waits while Mbonane loads her groceries into his tuk-tuk. She’s radiating with an infectious, happy energy. Just before she climbs into the vehicle she says, “I have been using tuk-tuks for years!” Mbonane climbs behind the wheel and whisks her off to The Village complex where she lives in Westdene, a mere four-minute drive from the Spar – too far for her to walk with her groceries, but close enough to use a tuk-tuk.
A few minutes later, Mbonane returns, carrying another passenger. Bridget Kamangira has been using tuk-tuks as a fast means of transport for five months to travel between work and home. “Uber is expensive but tuk-tuks are cheaper,” she says.
Mbonane drops Kamangira, parks his tuk-tuk next to that of Masondo’s and again waits for his next customer. He says that this can take up to an hour as he settles into the spacious back seat of his blue tuk-tuk and takes a sip of water. Mbonane has been driving for e-TukTuk for two years and encouraged Masondo to join as a driver three months ago.
Tuk-tuks hail from South East Asia and first came to South Africa in the early 2010s, as reported by the Gauteng Tourism Authority. They have been part of Melville’s fabric since e-TukTuk was started in 2013 by a resident and restaurant owner in Melville, Deon Fourie.
David Thorpe is a director of e-TukTuk along with Fourie. He says, “Deon is a very community minded guy who loves Melville and the surroundings. He and a group of people looked at ways of kind of improving security. It got to a stage where the students weren’t really going out. [They] looked at different opportunities and saw that maybe a tuk-tuk in the local community could be a cheap and efficient mode of transport to drive the students around. So they managed to get a hold of one tuk-tuk and launched it, and it was a massive.”
HOLD ON! Tuk-tuk driver, Ali Muyita, spends his days ferrying strangers and friends in his yellow three-wheeled vehicle around Melville, Johannesburg.
Tuk-tuks differ from e-hailing services in that they travel short distances. Thorpe explains: “Similar to a taxi association where they will get a route, we have an area. So Melville in the middle and it’s a seven-kilometre radius.” The drivers charge a base fare, often of around R20, which is paid in cash, and add to that depending on the distance travelled. Customers can either flag down a tuk-tuk on the street or call a driver to come pick them up – either by calling a call centre, or by calling the driver directly, depending on the type of tuk-tuk the client decides to use.
A few metres up the road from the Melville Spar parking lot, at the corner of 2nd Avenue and Main Road, three yellow and black tuk-tuks are parked. Their drivers are standing against the wall of the corner shop, deep in conversation. Like the e-TukTuk drivers, they also await the call of their next customers.
BRRR: A tuk-tuk speeds up 7th Street, Melville to pick up a new customer.CHARGED UP: A tuk-tuk driver keeps his phone close in order not to miss any call.
Ali Muyita is an asylum seeker from Uganda who first started driving a tuk-tuk in 2013. Although Muyita essentially offers the same service as that offered by Mbonane, he is an independent tuk-tuk driver, registered under the Auckland Park Tuk-Tuk Association (ATTA). Started in 2015 and headed by a chairperson, a vice-chairperson and a secretary, ATTA has around 60 drivers operating mostly around Melville and Auckland Park.
Chairperson of ATTA William Maitsa says the drivers pay a joining fee of R500 and a monthly fee of R300 to the ATTA. “This money is used when someone has an accident. We will try and assist him as a group.”
In reality, however, Muyita says he pays around R4 500 in fees each month. He is also a member of the Faraday Taxi Association (FTA) and the Johannesburg Community Taxi Association (JCTA) and has to pay a rental fee to the owner of the tuk-tuk that he rents.
According to Maitsa, the taxi drivers in the FTA marginalise the ATTA drivers. “They don’t want us to prosper. They keep on fighting with us. We give them money to cool them down.” He says the drivers also pay money to be part of the JCTA in order to use their routes.
Maitsa says when a driver signs up to ATTA, they can seek out tuk-tuk owners to rent from. According to Thorpe, because the tuk-tuk market in Johannesburg has been flooded, the price of a new tuk-tuk has increased from R30 000 in 2013 to R52 000 in 2018. As such, many drivers aren’t able to buy their own tuk-tuks and instead rent from the tuk-tuk owners. Maitsa, who owns four tuk-tuks himself, says, “The owners buy tuk-tuks from a company based in Northgate. We buy them new. However, if someone comes across a second-hand one, they’ll buy it.”
Getting into the tiny vehicle, it wobbles a little from side to side, giving rise to the tiniest fear that it may tumble onto its side. Inside, it is surprisingly spacious. On one side of the tuk-tuk, the plastic cover is zipped closed but on the other side, it is tied back, allowing the wind to sweep through, making the passenger think the driver is driving faster than he really is. The tuk-tuk feels strangely safe as the tar road zips by, nothing between you and the precarious edge of the tearing black seat.
The joys of riding in a tuk-tuk on a hot summer’s day can change as quickly as a Highveld thunderstorm kicks up. One minute, an e tuk-tuk driver is parked in the Spar parking lot and the next, a cloud breaks in the sky above. Rain slashes down, drenching the driver within seconds. He pulls away and drives into the parking lot below, in search of shelter. There he pulls over, the dim lights on this flimsy tuk-tuk struggling to shine while confined between the concrete slabs.
On 4thAvenue, the flappy sides of a yellow and green tuk-tuk fly angrily. Even the side that was closed lets loose – offering no protection to the driver who has abandoned his vehicle. A lone tuk-tuk can be seen hastily driving up and down Main Road but, for the most part, the tuk-tuks have lost their appeal at the thought of assaulting rain and wind beating the back seat of a moving tuk-tuk.
Muyita says no two days are the same, and you never know how many customers to expect, but business decreases during the winter months. The fear of the cold nibbling away at your face and body is formidable indeed.
Maitsa was a tuk-tuk driver himself but left to start driving for Taxify three months ago. “I recently left to begin driving Taxify but I’m still managing [ATTA]. I just wanted to up a grade.”
Muyita says he has seen around a 50% drop in his earnings since Uber and Taxify started operating in South Africa in 2013 and 2016 respectively. “When you’re not a citizen you don’t have a choice. I do want to drive for Uber and Taxify but I don’t have enough paperwork. Right now I’m using my driver’s licence from my country.”
According to the Taxify country manager for South Africa, Gareth Taylor, in order to sign up for Taxify, a driver needs a valid driver’s licence and a professional driving permit (PrDP). “We do not accept foreign licences,” he says. While Taxify drivers come from a variety of industries within South Africa, he adds, “We have not seen a substantially high increase of tuk-tuk drivers come onto the Taxify platform.”
Muyita puts in 14 hours of work on an average day and works six-and-a-half days a week. Despite this, he is always a friendly, outgoing guy with a broad smile. He works hard to send money home to his wife who lives in Uganda. “When you have a family it means you’re committed. You have to support them. You do your best, that’s why you work long hours.”
As a Taxify driver, Maitsa says there aren’t any issues between Uber or Taxify drivers and tuk-tuk drivers. However, like Uber and Taxify drivers, the tuk-tuk drivers experience problems with metered-taxi drivers. “In 2016 we had such problems whereby one of our tuk-tuks got burned completely. There are instances whereby if a tuk-tuk is driving customers close to the metered-taxi guys, they can harass and deny you from fetching your customers.”
Maitsa says they don’t have any issues with the e-TukTuk drivers as they’re essentially providing the same service.
FAMILY MAN: Ali Muyita works 14 hours a day, nearly seven days a week, to send R1 000 a month to his wife back home in Uganda.
At the Melville Spar parking lot, Masondo says things are not so rosy between e-TukTuk and ATTA drivers. “We have licences and PrDPs for driving, [while the independent tuk-tuk drivers] use fake ones.”
Thorpe says e-TukTuk needs an operating licence in order to legally put their drivers on the road. In order to obtain this licence from the City of Johannesburg, they need to have an office, a call centre, a certain area of operation and they have to submit their pricing per kilometre.
Howard Dembovsky is the chairperson of the Justice Project South Africa, a non-governmental, non-profit organisation dedicated to the improvement of road traffic law and its enforcement. He concurs with Thorpe that you need a professional driving permit (PrDP) when transporting members of the public for financial gain. On top of this according to Thorpe, tuk-tuk drivers currently need to have a motorbike licence and they need to display a tuk-tuk licence on their windscreen.
Thorpe says they have a fairly good relationship with the independent tuk-tuk drivers because many of the drivers used to work for e-TukTuk. Owner-drivers would pay a rental to use a tuk-tuk each month while paying it off. “The owner-drivers started to pay off the vehicles and they had to pay to use our licence. One driver left and said ‘No, I’m not going to rent the vehicle out daily’. It started off as one driver and, to be perfectly honest, we weren’t particularly that worried. Then literally overnight one went into two, into three, into four. All of the sudden the market, to where we are now, is flooded.” Whereas ATTA has around 60 registered drivers, e-TukTuk went from having 16 tuk-tuks to having around eight tuk-tuks in its fleet today.
Thorpe says they have tried numerous channels to address this problem. “We went through many channels to get rid of the illegals – the police, the City of Johannesburg, the transport department, the chiefs of the police – and everybody always said, ‘Yes, we must clean this up, we must sort this out’, and something I can never put my finger on is how it never happened.”
COMMUNITY: Tuk-tuk and motorbike drivers relax on 2nd Avenue in between ferrying customers around Melville.
Spokesperson for the Johannesburg Metro Police Department (JMPD), Chief Superintendent Wayne Minnaar, says the tuk-tuk industry in Melville hasn’t been a problem. “We don’t have a record of accidents. If there were, it was very minor. From that point of view, we have no problem with the tuk-tuk industry.”
Minnaar says the licensing of tuk-tuks is the responsibility of the Department of Transport. He adds that tuk-tuk drivers will only get pulled over by JMPD officers when they’re driving recklessly, but according to him, there haven’t been any reports of tuk-tuks ignoring a red light or a stop sign. When the drivers do get pulled over, Minnaar says, “We only check if they have driver’s licences.”
Despite Minnaar’s praise for tuk-tuk drivers, the owners and tuk-tuk drivers operating within the legal framework are concerned that the operation of tuk-tuks without the necessary licences may have devastating implications on the industry and, ultimately, their livelihoods.
At the end of the day, each player is trying one’s best to forge out a living. As Thorpe says, “The driver trying to make his way, the call centre agent, me trying to make my way – there are many different people along the way just trying to make it.”
While he is concerned about the job security of his drivers and the future of his small business, drivers such as Muyita worry about their livelihoods and far away families. His tuk-tuk is his only means to earn an income. He believes he doesn’t have another option and is simply doing the best he can with the resources available to him.
FEATURED IMAGE: Tuk-tuks parked on Melville’s 2nd Avenue on a quiet Friday afternoon. Photo: Sanet Oberholzer.
Recently the production Speak Sign Love was staged at the Wits Theatre.
Working with a strong cast and crew, Speak Sign Love creator Amy de Wet has set out on a journey to share a message with her audiences; a message of hope, love and compromise. There has been some controversy regarding Speak Sign Love; the concerns stemming from the fact that a hearing actress portrays a deaf character.
Speak Sign Love is a theatrical production, and like any other theatrical production it provides a space of time where reality and disbelief are suspended and the audience engages with fantasy. However, as the curtains close reality returns and everyone is aware that what they have seen is pretend. Although theatre often mimics reality, it is fantasy. The character of a mother can be played by a single, childless woman; the serial killer that strikes terror into the audience’s hearts is not played by an actual serial killer, his victims are not really dead and even the blood is fake. Yet in that moment of the story, you believe – that is the magic of theatre.
In order to give the audience this magic, a great deal of work goes into the process of preparing a production. The actress playing a mother will research and observe actual mothers in order to make her character believable. The actor playing the serial killer must do long hours of research and training to build his terrorising character – but his training will never include killing a person. The same principle applies to Speak Sign Love; the actress does not have to be deaf to portray a deaf person believably.
Most of the controversy around the theatrical industry arises from reactions to the artistic expression and the message the artist is articulating. The playwright, W. Somerset Maugham stated, “The drama is make-believe. It does not deal with truth but with effect.”
It is the privilege of an artist to craft their art until they gain the effect on the audience that they have envisaged. No artist claims that all must enjoy and agree with the art that they have produced. What the artist wants is that whilst the audience expresses their own opinion, they remember that the work is make-believe and that the artist has the prerogative, some may say even the duty, to express their art in any way they choose fit.
Societal expectations and experiences can often place pressure on people’s relationships. With Valentine’s Day coming up we have asked individuals questions about their views on certain relationship dynamics especially when it comes to the most anticipated day of the year for some lovers, Valentines Day. Viewers shared their beliefs and Siyanda and Katlego talk about […]
