Corridors of Freedom rains new hope on Johannesburg’s Tar Nile by offering renewal and new investment for the once economic hub.
Lonley petrol pumps stand with employees settled on the sidelines outside the manager’s office, waiting for the midday rush of motor vehicles to flow through the petrol station to wet their beaks.
In front of the office sits a stern man, engaging with his young protégés. His quiet dominance is felt by his younger peers as they talk about their lives.
ABOVE: The ongoing Rea Vaya construction Louis Botha Avenue in Wynburg Photo: Tsholanang Rapoo
He listens silently and cracks a slight smirk as the young protégés crack jokes. His intimidating demeanour is shed with the slightest sign of a smile, bringing light to a fatherly demeanour as he offers advice about the younger men’s problems.
Ndaba Mahlangu (46) is manager at Ener-Gi garage located on Louis Botha Avenue, Orange Grove. For the past four years he has witnessed the construction of what is meant to be the economic revival of Louis Botha.
It is meant to be the restoration of Johannesburg’s Tar Nile by carving out new transportation hubs through Rea Vaya, which will feed the economy of the suburbs it flows through. This is extensively explained in the Corridors of Freedom (COD) document.
However, the 46-year-old manager describes this as a “death roll” on his business.
“The development of the Corridors of Freedom, based on an effective public transport system and high-density neighbourhoods closer to the places of economic opportunity, giving rise to sustainable human settlements”: This is how it is stated in the Static Framework.
Breathing new life into the tar Nile
The COF framework further explains: “The majority of working class and poor citizens are still living on the fringes of the city, commuting daily, often at considerable cost, long distances to access work and economic opportunities.”
It aims to reduce these costs by feeding into the economic restoration of Louis Botha through a transport-centred plan that will function as an economic activation to bring back the vibrancy of this once legendary avenue.
“The intention of the current initiative is to optimise development in and around high- intensity corridors, to create more opportunities for residents of Johannesburg and create economies of scale that are attractive to investors.”
The sun rises with the sound of taxi horns heralding passengers to and from Louis Botha. It is a busy road with quiet pavements, swallowed by the grunts, groans, growls, wheezes and chuffs of different motor engines rippling through the surface of Johannesburg’s Tar Nile.
This is accompanied by the burble of tires rippling over the tar of Louis Botha. The energy is chaotic but controlled by the stop-and-go traffic and honks, which are enough to wash away one’s urge for five more minutes of sleep.
Louis Botha is the Tar Nile of Johannesburg, providing fertile land for development opportunity in the economy of more than nine varying suburbs.
The Tar Nile connects Johannesburg’s Fife Avenue, beginning at the edge of Hillbrow, with Bramley and transforms into Pretoria Main Road.
It facilitates multiple business transactions through the busy-ness of the road, assisting in the mixing of the different economic spices – the Rea Vaya becoming the emerging crocodile of the 9km Tar Nile.
RIGHT: Louis Botha is the tar Nile of Johannesburg. The 9km stretch serves to connect people through varying transportation. Future plans to revive the once booming economic hub involved an injection of people through construction, with major development into the Rea Vaya. Residents and commuters of Louis Botha share their thoughts on the stalled construction, particularly those close to Ener-Gi petrol garage.
The cost of renewal
“This Rea Vaya construction has cost us a lot. Some big trucks now cannot even drive in,” said Mahlangu.
In front of the distressed orange, white and black fill-up station, in the middle of the narrow road, is a large newly painted glass blue-red Island barricaded by concrete blocks.
The terminal prevents access by incoming traffic from Pretoria Main Road to Fife Avenue, a phenomenon that does not happen in front of big-name garages only a few hundred metres away from Ener-Gi.
The metal brocade is surrounded by an overwhelming combination: the drilling of nearby construction mixed with desperate hooting from taxis scavenging passengers.
“So far we have lost a lot of business, because since some roads are closed off already the customers from the other side can’t drive this side, so they just go to BP or Caltex,” said Mahlangu.
ABOVE: Across Ener-Gi garage stands a newly constructed Rea Vaya station on the narrow road of Louis Botha, showing the different forms of transport on Louis Botha Avenue. Photo: Tsholanang Rapoo
Early bird Johannesburg energy gurgles through this small petrol station for approximately two hours and later flows into a relaxed morning with light ripples of traffic, taxis swimming pedantically through the street.
The wave of activity rises again at lunch time and knocking-off peaks, with the sounds of motor vehicle engines gurgling as they continue to flow past the banks of the Tar Nile.
Rebuilding the economy of Louis Botha begins with the COF framework, which states: “The majority of working class and poor citizens are still living on the fringes of the city, commuting daily, often at considerable cost, long distances to access work and economic opportunities.”
The City of Johannesburg’s action plan to resolve economic issues along Louis Botha includes resolving inequality, unemployment and poverty.
This road has lent itself as a microcosm of Johannesburg’s greater economy. Like reflections on the river, the surrounding structures mirror a greater South African history.
Economic inequality waves through the Tar Nile, with a political, social and economic history entrenched in its buildings and demographics.
History gives breathes life to a new economy
Lining the banks of this Tar Nile are Victorian-styled buildings covered in dried, freckled, peeling paint on one side of the pavement characterised by curved lines and monochromatic colours.
The opposite banks of the avenue are filled with freshly painted developing upmarket real-estate with clean lines, modern-style architecture housing corporate businesses, and ongoing construction for key South African supermarkets.
Inserted on the horizon of Orange Grove are green hills filled with blooming jacaranda trees and a scattering of modern high-rise homes with wide-open windows and high brick walls.
But the heart of Louis Botha is formed by the tumble-down hotels turned into apartments covered with withering paint and dull glass windows buckled with butler doors.
The Tar Nile still holds its reputation as a migrant nucleus, transforming Orange Grove’s little Italy into an African migrant pivot.
This presented an influx of business opportunity stemming from capitalising on the busy-ness and energy of the road, one that carries its own flash-flood reputation with its notorious “Death Bend”.
The Death Bend is located on the Upper Houghton section of the Tar Nile marked by S-Bend wall, covered in a mural of art marking the different changes of Louis Botha.
A slide show of the storefront of Joel Autospare located on 119 Louis Botha, framed with car bumpers and a tire-tower topped with the rim and some of the products in the store. Photo: Tsholanang Rapoo
The S-Bend, which in its history is infamous for a high accident rate in Upper Houghton, has in the past been difficult to navigate; thus its notorious history of fatal accidents, which earned it the name Death Bend.
“I think accidents are not predetermined. I have witnessed one once or twice. I wouldn’t say accidents help the business,” said Odinaka Ugwumba, a co-owner of and administrator at Kingsley Auto Motor Parts on 207 Louis Botha Avenue.
This reputation has produced a unique type of transaction, creating a micro auto parts economy evident in several shops on the pavement banks of Louis Botha, whose services transfer through its neighbouring suburbs.
“I think what helps the business is the busy road and the cars passing, and the people living in the community,” says the Nigerian native.
Ugwumba has been working on Louis Botha for three years, but the store has been open for only two months.
The tall, broad-shouldered, light-skinned, blue-eyed young adult is stationed at the back of the spare parts auto body shop scattered with car hoodsm with an administration desk in the back, stationed in front of a single window.
The 36-year-old recalls pleasant interactions with the transformation of Louis Botha, saying in part: “I remember when I started working here in 2015, towards the end of December. I used to take public transport from Ghandi Square, the Metro bus down to Louis Botha. It has been awesome, I think.”
Despite the booming business for auto body parts on the Tar Nile, the installation and towing are done away from the gushing street.
Not too far from Kingsley Auto Motor Parts stands Joel Auto Spares, a similar store and a familiar sight as the Nile is sprouting these types of stores.
Joel Auto Spares has been open for approximately a month. The quaint store is cluttered with car parts, with relatively no space in the front of the business to interact with its workers.
Sitting behind the entrance are three employees on their laptops and phones, conversing about synchronising price points.
The young business uses an online advertising model to set itself apart from the competition through advertising on several social media sites.
This transports the economy of Louis Botha away from traditional walk-in interaction, introducing the Tar Nile to a new type of consumer.
“Most of the customers we get are other people that also deal with auto body parts – shops and individuals,” said Brighton Chitekero, an employee of the shop.
“Some of the customers are mechanics, panel beaters, those people that fix cars,” added the 25-year-old, most of whom come from the surrounding neighbourhoods.
“Online is more effective because nowadays someone does not need to be driving around stop by stop, but he wants to be on his machine or his phone once.
“After he finds what he wants, he makes a call so that if he is leaving his place he just goes direct,” echoed Chitekero.
Their most expensive item, depending on the model of the car, is headlights, which can range in price up to R9 500, which would be a Range Rover headlight.
“We buy [these goods] from insurance companies,” said Bradley Dziva.
Dziva (26), another employee of Joel Auto Spares, echoed the business’s attraction to the busy-ness of the road, adding “the rates this side are affordable, the building itself”.
Bicycle ornament hanging from the entrance inside Viml Daya’s store, Bhanis Bicycle, located on Louis Botha. Photo: Tsholanang RapooViml Daya completing early morning admin in his store on 280 Louis Botha Ave in Orange Grove. Photo: Tsholanang RapooBicycles on display inside Bhanis Bicycle, a store on Louis Botha Avenue in Orange Grove. Photo: Tsholanang Rapoo
The current of the tar Nile
A continuous theme for the Tar Nile: The continuous flow of movement is what drives the economy, drawing investment from local business owners, old and new.
“Louis Botha is an important road, it’s a very busy road. When the highway, N1, has traffic, this road becomes the next nearest through road,” said Viml Daya, (45) a bicycle repair shop owner on Louis Botha.
“That is a bad thing because sometimes you need a bit of quiet and there is always this drumming noise of cars passing by and taxis hooting, so that creates a bit of noise.
“We have become accustomed to it. When there is no traffic or no noise, that worries us. When there is peace and quiet we worry, ‘now what’s happening outside, is there a problem,” he added.
“The busy road does play an important role in attracting customers,” said Daya.
“If I was on a quiet road, inside a quiet residential road, then there is no traffic, no one will know about my place.”
The shop tangled with bicycle parts has been there since 1992 and has been witness to the transformation of its industry on the Nile.
A common thread in the transportation economy of Louis Botha is the transit of commuters moving from one place to another. The flow of movement is the last remaining aspect of the once booming economic giant.
The COD aims to finesse this to attract investors.
“In their present form, the corridors already act as a significant spine on which diverse sectors of the city move and interact,” states the official document.
“Well [the location] it’s not ideal. For a bicycle shop you need parking and Louis Botha doesn’t offer parking, it doesn’t exist… and that is a challenge and has been a challenge since day one,” said Daya.
The COD aims to feed back to the economy of Louis Botha by placing more people on the streets. Through initiatives that include high-density housing, the COD wants to increase foot traffic, introducing human interaction along Louis Botha.
Through Rea Vaya, the residents will be able to sail further distances and return at little effort and cost to them. The increased use of public transport instead of private motor use is aimed at reducing traffic on the road, allowing for a clean flow for Louis Botha.
The bustle and noise on the road will also include the murmurs of human interaction along with the occasional taxi hoot.
FEATURED IMAGE: A slide show of the storefront of Joel Autospare located on 119 Louis Botha, framed with car bumpers and a tire-tower topped with the rim and some of the products in the store. Photo: Tsholanang Rapoo
Finding the perfect dish that will fill your belly, along with a pinch of nostalgia, is no longer too difficult a task on Louis Botha Avenue with ‘the Place of Help’.
“LIJO tsa hao li lokile, o je masutsa a hao ha monate!” exclaims Madame Maggy. These are just the right words to make any hungry person happy. They are the words heard regularly by customers of Thusong Place Restaurant, a local eatery on Johannesburg’s famous Louis Botha Avenue. They are Basotho for ‘bon appetit’.
Thusong Place is the only restaurant on Louis Botha Avenue for Basotho (Sesotho, Setswana and Sepedi speaking) people. It is deep in the belly of an avenue full of businesses including auto spare suppliers, upholsterers and pawn shops.
Mme Maggy serves her customers at Thusong Place Restaurant on Louis Botha Avenue on a daily basis, not of a smie on her face and she caters for every customer. Photo: Lineo Leteba
Deeper into the place of help
Condiments accompany every meal that is served at restaurants. These are the condiments placed on a vintage plate at Thusong Place Restaurant on Louis Botha Avenue. Photo: Lineo Leteba
The street is also crammed with salons and beauty shops for diverse options when customers are looking for that fresh cut or new braids. Among more than 10 international African cuisine restaurants on the avenue, Thusong stands out with a sign written in a local language on the outside and images of local dishes on the glass windows around the entrance.
Along the avenue leading from the famed Hillbrow, a mural one can describe only as an artistic summary of Louis Botha Avenue stands out. It stretches through different suburbs with images of vehicles, street vendors, African women in traditional regalia – and food.
The meeting place for Basotho on “Louis Basotho Avenue”, and one of only two known restaurants in Johannesburg that sell lijo tsa setsu (a traditional Basotho cuisine), Thusong’s name means “the place of help” in Sesotho.
The mother of Louis Botha Avenue
The restaurants on Louis Botha Avenue come in a wide variety to suit the different palates of different cultures: Nigerian, Ethiopian, Zimbabwean, Italian, Jewish and many others.
Finding a restaurant catering to any of these cultures is like finding a needle in a tailor’s shop: It is not difficult at all. Finding local South African traditional food, on the other hand, is really like looking for a needle in a haystack – but for Thusong Place.
Mme Margaret Oganne (also known as Mme Maggy) is a 62-year-old Motswana woman who moved in the early 2000s from North West to Louis Botha Avenue, where she stayed for about five years before transferring to Houghton Estate Observatory, where she is now living with her family.
Mme Maggy is always behind the counter with a wide smile on her face as she waits to take orders from her customers.
“Your food is ready, enjoy your delicious food” are the words she says to her customers when she hands them warm plates of delicacies prepared by her with the help of her shop assistant, Emmanuel Maphanga, and occasionally her husband, Mr Oganne.
The traditional keeper of Louis Botha Avenue
Louis Botha Avenue is condensed with many restaurants that sell international cuisine dishes. A few shops stand out on the avenue for selling local South African food, though still encorporating international dishes to unite the different communities on the avenue. Amapelepele Spices for Africa and Thusong Place Restaurant bring us into their kitchens to learn more about culture and tradition. Produced and Edited: Lineo Leteba Sound: Rose Shayo and Sisanda Mbolekwa
Occasionally Mme Maggy will walk into the seating area and speak to her customers, asking them about the food and their wellbeing. In a low tone she will ask, “ho joang (how are you)?” and the usual response from most of her customers is, “I am okay mama.”
“I opened up the restaurant in 2017 when I noticed the lack of local South African cuisine restaurants in the area,” says Mme Maggy. “I made sure to include delicacies such as mala mogodu (tripe), papa le sechu and other traditional Basotho dishes on the menu. I also added some western flavour to the menu with dishes such as french fries and fried chicken. We serve sphatlo (kota), which is a local township dish, as well as magwinya (fat cakes).
“I want my restaurant to be inclusive of all people, although it mainly serves the palates of our Basotho people. I want everyone to feel as if they are at home, because that is how we are as Basotho and I want to bring that spirit to Louis Botha through my food,” she said.
I walked into the pungent smell of vinegar over French fries as the 23-year-old Maphanga was cleaning the restaurant. He is a shy young man who stays behind the counter on most days, hardly interacting with his surroundings or with customers unless he is offering his waiting skills. Soft kwaito music comes from a phone on the service counter. The TV, hanging from the ceiling at the corner as you enter the door, is tuned to Supersport 4.
Africa united through food on Louis Botha Avenue
Sister Sonto sells food at Amapelepele Spices for Africa on Louis Botha Avenue and she is holding a bucket of chakalaka that she prepares for her customers everyday using amapelepele. Photo: Lineo Leteba
According to Maphanga, who is originally from Zimbabwe, “a lot of people come here, but it is usually Tswana, Sotho and Pedi speaking people who come. Other people from other cultures do also come to enjoy the food we serve. We have everyone walk into the restaurant. I myself am Zimbabwean, but I enjoy working here because I get to learn more about Basotho culture and I improve my dialogue by interacting with the customers.”
A man, seemingly the only customer this morning as cleaning continues, sips water from a glass which he refills from a yellow vintage jug while he attentively watches the programme on TV. He moves around the restaurant as Maphanga is cleaning, so that he can get a better view of the TV. He does not order any food or speak to anyone, just sits there with no emotion on his face, adding more water to his cup as he watches TV.
During the peak lunch hour Thusong is packed with people from different walks of life, communicating in the language that is food, with a hint of Sesotho, Setswana and Sepedi. A man, presumably Mosotho as he is clothed in a formal brown Seshoeshoe shirt with green denim pants and brown leather sandals, walks silently into the restaurant while Mme Maggy is at the counter serving other customers. The man joins the queue.
When it is the man’s turn to order his food, Mme Maggy asks with a warm smile, “nka o thusa joang papa (how can I help you, sir)?” as he approaches the counter with a hop in his step.
“Ke kopa papa ka li salad le nama ea khomo (may I please have pap with salad and beef),” replies the man. Mme Maggy takes a clean white plate from the rack below the counter, wipes it with a damp cloth and walks over to the warm silver pots to dish up a serving.
Lunch hour traffic in the hot Louis Botha Avenue kitchen
A cloud of steam billows out as she lifts the lid off the hot pot of papa ea Batswana (a soft, porridge-like pap cooked with water and no additives). She adds coleslaw and chakalaka to the plate. Mme Maggy opens the pot of meat, and within seconds the mouth-watering aroma of beef is diffused through the whole restaurant as she spoons it onto a separate dish.
A plate of beef stew and pap served with salads at Amapelepele Spices for Africa as the special dish for Tuesdays on Louis Botha Avenue. Photo: Lineo Leteba
“Emmanuel, tlisa metsi (bring)!” exclaims Mme Maggy as Maphanga rushes from the kitchen with a bowl of water to offer the man to wash his hands before he digs into the food. The man washes his hands and Mme Maggy presents him with the food.
He slowly buttons up his shirt by the arms “kapa o shena matsoho” and takes a handful of pap, rolls it a few times around his hand, dips it into the meat broth and takes the first bite. With a look of satisfaction on his face he sighs deeply as he continues to eat.
“There are a lot of Batswana people that come here. I come here because I have known Mme Maggy for over 30 years now. We are both Batswana and I come here almost every day because I can relate to most of the people who come here through speaking the same language and enjoying the same food,” said 66-year-old Thabo Stephen Sereme.
With a cooling fan connected at the corner near an ice cream machine, the other customers walk in and occupy tables on the left hand side of the restaurant, as if in a separate room, drinking alcoholic beverages from the bottle as they wait to take away their food while others sit and enjoy their food.
A battle of convenience and tradition
Bernet Tau, a Mosotho originally from Ficksburg in the Free State, said, “I always eat here. It is like my home now. I do not remember when I came to Louis Botha because it was a very long time ago.
“Mme Maggy practically raised me because I have known her since I moved here. I always eat fried chicken and pap and watch the news on the TV when I come alone.”
The culture of food is derived not only from the traditions we grew up with or from how we were nurtured through our tender ages.
Lincoln Nyoni, originally from Zimbabwe, works at Legese Upholstery on 109 Louis Botha Avenue, and said he eats at Thusong every day.
“I buy breakfast and lunch there every day,” he said. “I buy there because it is nearby and the food is clean. I have been living on Louis Botha Avenue for about five months now. I started working here almost eight months ago and this is the only place I buy food.
“For me it is not about culture; it is just because the restaurant is close to my work and it is hygienic. Almost all the other restaurants on our block closed down, including Food Express, which was located between our shop and Thusong, because people were not buying food from them,” said Nyoni.
ABOVE: Tswarelo Moboreketla makes and sells kotas on Louis Botha Avenue for a living when he is not selling atchaar in Pretoria in his local city, Soshanguve. Photo: Lineo LetebaABOVE: Kotas being prepared in what Tswarelo Moboreketla calls the ‘spitori’ influenced way on Louis Botha Avenue. Photo: Lineo Leteba
Enter the African chef’s traditional kitchen
According to 22-year-old international chef Thabo “The Chef with an Accent” Phake, “culture influences food in a big respect, whether it be through techniques such as slow cooking, which is pivotal to our African cuisine, or the Dutch influence from the Afrikaans culture, the British wine influence, Indian spices that have seeped into Zulu culture, and more.
“In my point of view all 11 [South African] cultures intertwine and influence each other when it comes to bringing nostalgia and good food experience.”
Etward Lebona, originally from Leribe in Lesotho, said he does not know any other place that sells Basotho cuisine on Louis Botha Avenue.
“I see only one place that sells ‘lijo tsa setsu’ (traditional Basotho food) in [Johannesburg Central Business District] and it is called Lijong (the place of food). If I knew of a restaurant that sells our food I would buy from it because I love our traditional food.
“I would love to eat the food I was eating throughout my childhood. It is very important because I grew up eating it and now I cannot find it anywhere on Louis Botha Avenue. I would love to eat seketsa, papa ea mabele and likhobe again,” said Lebona.
Chef Phake, who specialises in African avant-garde cuisine, said he is not focused on changing the past but on “bringing the past into the present. My cooking is not centred on how I can manipulate ingredients or how I can play around with techniques, but rather on old traditions my grandmother taught me that are relevant to the new generation.”
The Place makes Louis Botha Avenue your home away from home, as it did for Tau. And it is also a place for convenience for many international and local residents, including Nyoni. It is the place that makes you feel at ease, like many of the residents of Louis Botha Avenue including Mme Maggy, by bringing your home delicacies closer to you in the big city.
FEATURED IMAGE: Mme Maggy serves her customers at Thusong Place Restaurant on Louis Botha Avenue on a daily basis, not of a smie on her face and she caters for every customer. Photo: Lineo Leteba
In a land foreign to your own, where do you turn? Who do you call? Where do you belong?
HURRYING across the streets to assemble inside various buildings and shop-like structures on Louis Botha Avenue on a Sunday morning are families of African migrants. They are making their way to their respective houses of worship. There is something distinctive about the way they navigate their way on the street; a magnetic pulling that makes the movement routine, effortless, easy and natural. Almost as if they are instinctively being called… home.
Belonging: A woman and her two children linger outside, waiting for their church service to begin. Photo: Sisanda Mbolekwa
The men are in crisply ironed buttoned up shirts and the women are adorned in long, layered dresses that just about sweep the pavement as they sashay by. Behind them are children frantically trying to keep up with the pace of the adults, as fast as their little legs can carry them. With a quick glance to left and right they hurry past speeding Toyota minibuses and overloaded taxis in the road, and with a brisk walk they step onto the pavement.
Just a metre or two from where the pavement meets the two-door entrance are four elderly men in suits. They stand arranged, pamphlets in hand, interacting with the passers-by on Louis Botha. Almost in sync, they monotonously mutter the words “come in my sister”, “join us my brother” to the pedestrians walking past, and their wrinkled faces light up with a “God bless you” as soon as their invitations to join the service are accepted.
Pastor Blessing Oggini of Mountain of Fire and Miracles Ministries ushers congregants inside the makeshift room he has converted into a church, into what he calls a session of blessing and salvation. Bible in hand, he hands out purple flyers detailing information about the church and its daily services, while casually having conversations with members of the church and hugging them as they enter.
As the congregants make their way to the neatly placed rows of plastic chairs, from two of the four corners of the room come the sounds of a euphoric melody carried by a commanding voice booming from the speakers. As the singer jolts from side to side in sync with the rhythm, microphone in hand, he continues to lead the worship and praise from behind the glass podium stationed in front of the room.
Pastor Oggini (second from left) stands with church elders outside the Mountain of Fire and Miracle Ministries branch in Louis Botha Avenue. Photo: Sisanda MbolekwaAn elderly woman stands outside the New Eternal Covenant Church after the Sunday service has ended.Photo: Sisanda Mbolekwa
Brother Jonathan, as he is fondly referred to, belts out the phrase, “This is the day of joy, the day of joy, that the Lord has made”, and the congregation responds in harmony. As the pastor ascends onto the stage from the front row, Jonathan Jise hands over the microphone to symbolise that the time for song has come to an end and he has prepared the congregation for the sermon.
“My role in the church is an important one, and everyone has a space in the house of the Lord,” says Jise. With a look around the room, he adds that everyone is here because of some reason or other.
“We did not come because we simply love the church. When you face difficulty in a foreign country you have no option but to turn to what feels normal: what you grew up with and were raised on from a young age, and that is the church and faith in God,” he says with glistening eyes and a piercing stare, so as to relay his heartfelt relationship with the institution enclosed by the four walls that make up the room we sit in.
Stretched across approximately 9km of tar, is Louis Botha Avenue – one of the city of Johannesburg’s major streets. Known as an area where immigrants and migrants have settled in, historically the neighbourhood had been populated by people of Italian descent, and as a result had been dubbed “Little Italy”. Now that is but a distant past commemorated only by the remnants of an Italian deli called Super Sconto and an abandoned building that used to be an Italian machinery shop. Looking at the pedestrians on the street and the bodies that have made Orange Grove their home, it is evident that the area continues to be an immigrant hub, however, but now of African descent.
The simplified narration of African migration is ordinarily one that sees desperate and vulnerable refugees fleeing from conflict, war and collapsing economies to try to make a living in a country foreign to their own. This industrial narrative exists and is vividly visual on the street, with the avenue being overpopulated by not so adequately spaced out corner shops, congested fruit and vegetable stores, tailoring services, upholstery businesses and – surprisingly – a high number of Christian religious places of worship. In this street alone, one will come across more than 15 boards of bright and colourful signage advertising church branches and services behind doors that seem abandoned on any odd day during the week, but that definitely comes alive on a Sunday morning.
The decision to open a branch of Mountain of Fire and Miracles Ministries in Louis Botha was one that was necessary, as Pastor Oginni describes it: “The people of Orange Grove are suffering, living under undesirable circumstances, and are in need of healing. Our ministry is here by virtue of calling, to help the despondent people of God in this area and restore their faith in times of adversity,” says the pastor.
“We opened this specific branch this year, but our church has existed on the African continent and in South Africa for years,” he says.
With the first branch having been opened in Nigeria in 1975 by Dr Daniel Olukoya, their mission statement of “propagating the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ all over the world” is one that is evident through their expansion to regions such as Europe, the United States, Canada, Africa and Asia – boasting visibility on every continent.
Adewumni Eze, a young man in a black leather jacket who walked in through the gates of the church, says he did so seeking deliverance and a spiritual breakthrough. Initially hesitant to open up to a relative stranger like myself, he reveals that he owes his life to the church.
“When I first came to South Africa, things were very hard for me. I was hopeless and helpless. I did not know how to survive all by myself and I was becoming more desperate by the day.”
This feeling was brought about by the fact that even as a master of science graduate he struggled to find employment in this country, subjecting him to survival in poverty stricken circumstances, sleeping on the streets and not knowing where his next meal was going to come from as every door he knocked on asking for employment was shut in his face.
“When I was homeless in Orange Grove, I was at my lowest. The church opened its doors for me, gave me a mattress to sleep on and food to eat. I was scared that I would always be treated like a stranger, because I am a foreigner. I lived in fear. I was then prayed for by the pastor, who gave me hope that by placing my trust in God, He would help me overcome my challenges.”
Through his journey with the church, he developed a relationship and fellowship and now not only lives at the church, but is an active participant and assistant in the mission.
“Nothing can harm me now in the house of the Lord,” Adewumni says as he looks around the room, smiling as he reflects on the impact the church has had on his life.
Pastor Blessing Oginni stands next to his podium, where he delivers a sermon every Sunday at Mountain of Fire and Miracle Ministries. Photo: Sisanda Mbolekwa
Adewumni’s testimony provides a glimpse into the level of hostility directed at foreign nationals. A competitive city such as Johannesburg exposes migrants to vulnerability, as would any unfamiliar surroundings. Among migrants there is an air of desperation, eagerly seeking opportunities to make the means of survival for one more day. And there is wariness of the potential threat of intolerance and violence that their presence may bring about. It is as almost as though one can capture the change in dynamic simply from watching the transition from the brisk and hurried walk on the pavement to the gentle settling into seats once they are inside the church. There is a sense of feeling comfortable when they collectively come into the presence of fellow believers in the house of God, where there is “space” for them.
There are three observed trends of behaviour in relation to migrants and religion, according to a scholar by the name of Orobator, in a journal titled ‘Refugees and Poverty’ (2005). Firstly there are migrants who have persevered in their faith in the midst of trials and tribulation; secondly there are those who have abandoned their faith; and thirdly there are those who have newly identified God as their only comfort and solace in exile. The latter is the interweaving theme along Louis Botha Avenue and its many churches, clustered not so far from each other.
The flaking paint on the walls that enclose the buildings where the religious gatherings are held sheds a little light on the deterioration of the avenue. Despite the many hubs of worship and upliftment in the churches located on the pavements of Louis Botha, the tale of the once highly revered avenue is now a sad one. What was once conceptualised in 2014 to serve as a game changer in the transport sector as a prominent transit corridor is seen as many to have been affected by urban decay that characterises many other neighbourhoods in the city.
There have been issues that have been sites of contention over the intended nature and current state of the avenue. There are the alleged driving of unroadworthy taxis overflowing with unsuspecting commuters, coupled with the non-completion of the Rea Vaya project, to mention just two. Following recent protest action in April 2019 when the residents of suburbs surrounding Louis Botha ordered the mayor of the city to conduct a clean-up of all the alleged illegal businesses and hijacked buildings, it seems there is yet to appear a consolidated view of migrants, their livelihoods and incorporation into the area.
“When a stranger resides with you in your land, you shall not wrong him. The stranger who resides with you shall be to you as one of your citizens; you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” (Lev. 19:33-34).
The Bible says that one day the divisions between citizen and stranger will be erased, when the Promised Land will be assigned for ourselves and the strangers who dwell among us. Some deem the efforts at supposed restoration to be xenophobic-related, as a result of placing the blame for decay on foreign nationals. Some view it as law enforcement. What it fundamentally means is that Louis Botha is yet to get rid of the underlying tension among locals and migrants.
Despite the intricate dynamic between the migrants and the locals, the church remains a place to turn to. Not only for those who have found solace within its doors, but in the community as well. Stacked in the corner of Pastor Oginni’s office is a heap of groceries and non-perishable food items and snacks. He explains that the tinned cans, boxes of milk and rice, among other items, are the church’s monthly collection of donations in the form of food and clothing towards its outreach program – for an orphanage in Orange Grove supported by the church.
“Our mission is to not only help those who come through our doors looking for a breakthrough, but also to share our blessings with the community and people of Orange Grove,” the pastor says. The congregants visibly do not have much, but are committed to sharing the little that they do have. “Both in the spiritual and physical realm, this call to unity in the face of division is what brings the community together,” The pastor says.
Pastor Oggini ascends the podium yet again to convene everyone to kneel for the closing prayer. The booming voice emerges yet again from the speakers to reassure the congregants that “all will be well”. The men pick up their Bibles and stand up tall, while the women hoist their children onto their backs and secure them with a towel.
He raises his arms and the congregants close their eyes to signal the end of the prayer. Everyone in the room shakes hands and exchanges goodbyes as they leave the house of the Lord. As the doors open for their exit, the sound of the hooting taxis rushing by remind them of their return to reality.
The atmosphere is one of hope: hope for survival, hope for restoration. Hope that their lives will take a turn for the better. Hope that their prayers will be heard. Bible in hand, like soldiers, they are armed. Ready to face the hustle and bustle of Louis Botha Avenue.
FEATURED IMAGE: Men of God: Pastor Oggini (second from left) stands with church elders outside the Mountain of Fire and Miracle Ministries branch in Louis Botha Avenue.
Since her announcement as the Democratic Alliance’s mayoral candidate for Johannesburg, Helen Zille has dominated national headlines. In this bonus episode of We Should Be Writing podcast, hosts Lulah Mapiye and Bonolo Mokonoto dissect a media meet-and-greet with the mayoral hopeful. From her extensive political résumé to her controversial public utterance, we examine why the Democratic Alliance has chosen Hellen Zille as their candidate for the 2027 local mayoral elections. Additionally, […]
