Perceptions of graffiti in Johannesburg range from it being beautiful artworks to malicious damage of property. Removal of graffiti is a difficult process and where to draw the line between vandalism and art is often difficult to find.
STREET ART: Graffiti on the corner of Henry and De Korte street, Braamfontein done by graffiti artist Rasty and crew. Photo: Samantha Camara
Hanre Heunis spends his time removing graffiti from other people’s property. The managing director of a local graffiti removal service, Heunis believes there is an artistic side to the practice of street art. He says many property owners think that graffiti is vandalism because they did not choose to have their walls defaced or tagged (when a new graffiti artist spray-paints their name on a wall to practice and develop their own style).
Property owners who have been the victims of repeated tagging often remove the tags because it makes their business premises look unprofessional or decreases the value of the property. “There is a fine line between being artistic and repeat tagging,” said Heunis.
There is a high concentration of graffiti in the inner city and removing it is a highly-skilled, specialised and expensive process, says Heunis. It involves chemical testing, high pressure water tanks and newly developed products that often need to be imported from the United Kingdom due to a lack of local manufacturing. Removal is also extremely labour intensive as more porous surfaces require more applications.
But perceptions are shifting especially when artists ask for permission, according to Vorster, an ex-Witsie who did his honours in Fine Arts. “If you wake up in the morning and someone’s tagged your window it sucks … get permission and do your art … you’ll be surprised how many people say yes.”
Graffiti artists find it exciting to work illicitly at night but it often means that the quality of the work decreases because there is less time and more pressure to get the work done in a short amount of time, according to Vorster.
The other side of the (street art) coin
ADDING COLOUR: Comic style graffiti done by American graffiti artist, Pose in De Korte street, Braamfontein. Photo: Samantha Camara
In Johannesburg there are a few designated walls for street art on Barry Hertzog Avenue and Empire Road but Brian* says these walls are mostly used for graffiti style advertising and the limited amount of wall space restricts the art.
One of Vorster’s first tags was a Vodacom telephone box, he saw it as a victory when the box was removed. Vorster now gets permission for his work and is often commissioned to do murals. One of his commissioned pieces was removed for safety reasons because people were constantly taking photos at the wall, which made the owner feel unsafe.
Brian* says he doesn’t mind his art being removed: “It [the art] has its lifespan. It doesn’t faze me, I just need to do more. For every one that is taken down, I need to put up another one.”
Members of the black lesbian community in Johannesburg have created a “system” that provides safety for one another while travelling around the city.
There are no specific rules or protocol for anyone to follow, but rather a “system informed by common sense”, according to one of its creators, Busisiwe Deyi.
“We organise safe transportation and when someone is dropped off, they have to inform the others that they got home safe,” she told Wits Vuvuzela.
Last week, a friend did not check in, so they turned to social media to try and find her. They were worried that something had happened to her, so “had to make sure” that they found her.
A group of them had been part of “activist organising” so were all tired, why is why the missing friend had forgotten to check in. Hours later, after they had still not heard from her, they began to worry.
“I have friends who have been attacked.”
Transport is provided by friends within the circle who have cars, and are willing to drive to areas that are far away. If they arrange their own way home then they check-in with each other when reaching home safely. Sometimes, people offer to walk each other home if the destination is not too far away.
A system “evolved organically”
According to Deyi, the system is something that has “evolved organically”, with the hope of ensuring that individuals felt and were less vulnerable when commuting.
Groups like this exist all over Johannesburg, according to a second year BA student at Wits, who asked to remain anonymous. Both she and Deyi said that there were no pre-existing structures like this, which deals with the issue in a “systematic and organised manner”.
Here at Wits, individuals have to notify a designated member of the group of what form of transport they are using, who they got into a car, bus or taxi with, and provide the registration number of the vehicle, “just in case something happens”.
Although no one has ever gone missing, according to another student, in her first year of a BA, there is a risk that something might happen.
“I have friends who have been attacked more than once, because they look gay,” she said.
Deyi agreed. “A lot of our friends are butch/masculine looking and [this] increases their visibility as targets of violence.”
Changing money on the streets of Yeoville leaves no paper trail. It’s easy if you know who and how to ask. The amounts are small and it is difficult to catch the traders. And the people doing it have some stories to tell about laws and legality.
The popular one-way Rockey Street in Yeoville is always busy during the day, with people hustling to make a living. At night the main road is bright with the yellow hue of street lamps and the colourful blinking of traffic lights. Once the Yeoville Market closes, its image is darker.
Away goes the innocence of a traders’ paradise with fresh vegetables and traditional ingredients. What emerges is a more sinister scene with dark alleys that act as a shield for illicit dealings on the street.
The exchange is flash fast and inconspicuous. You give him the dollars and he in turn gives you the equivalent in rands. And, in no time at all, both parties are parting ways.
Yeoville is more than a century old. It was one of the first suburbs to be built in Johannesburg. Over the years, the area has always been a hub for immigrants from around the world. But more recently it has become a home for people from countries all over Africa – a gateway where more immigrants than South Africans live.
FOREIGN NATIONAL: Many Yeovillites come from all parts of the African continent. After a few months in South Africa, their legal stay in the country expires and they can no longer access formal institutions. Photo: Tendai Dube
Arriving with just enough money to start a new life, they bring in foreign currency and need to find ways to exchange it for rands. Once settled, they need to start sending money to their families at home.
A convenient method of exchange is the trading of currencies on the street, also known as the black market, and money is sent home through the hawala remittance system, which is an informal way to transfer money.
It’s called the black market because the transaction itself is illegal. It is done out of sight and often in the dark. Because the transaction is illegal, the market operates by default outside of the formal economy.
Informal currency trading is a crime in South Africa. According to the South African Reserve Bank (SARB) website: “It is illegal to buy or sell foreign currency to anyone except an authorised dealer.”
Foreign exchange in South Africa is controlled by the SARB and the local market is governed by exchange control regulations that control the flow of money into and out of South Africa.
The South African foreign exchange market is structured in such a way that all money leaving South Africa is controlled by the Reserve Bank, which nominates and licenses a number of authorised dealers or banks.
To send money out of South Africa, all funds have to be directly or indirectly approved by the SARB via exchange control regulations.
Not all of these black market dealings are that mysterious. When you find yourself in urgent need of some US dollars with no questions asked and no paper trail, you can try your luck and take a trip to Yeoville. However be advised – what you are doing is illegal.
From a dealer’s perspective
Vince* is a foreign national who claims to have traded illegally on the other side of the exchange. He would not confirm his identity as a dealer nor his real name, but encouraged Wits Journalism to speak to him about the practice.
“Mostly it’s about a better rate. You get more clients when you have a better rate. People go to these people because there’s not too many questions, no one asks for your ID or your papers, it’s just an agreement.”
According to Vince, illegal traders don’t cheat their clients with counterfeit bills. He says that these traders are “businessmen” who are “established” and won’t sell you fake bills because they want you to return. By the same token, they very rarely receive fake notes.
“For you to be in this business, you need to know paper quality. It’s easy to tell a dollar.”
Traders on the street usually keep amounts low, never more than $1000. If you want to exchange larger amounts, Vince says, they will refer you to other traders in wider Johannesburg.
The US dollar is the most widely used currency in the world, according to popular currency site XE Currency, which explains why it is the most prevalent currency in Yeoville. Vince says that, in his interactions, he has not seen any other currencies traded except for, on rare occasions, British pounds.
DODGY DEALINGS: Residents have access to four authorised forex exchange bureaus along the busy thoroughfare of Rockey and Raleigh streets. After hours, the street is well known as a place where currency is traded. Photo: Tendai Dube
Vince explains that there is a science to getting better rates on the street. An individual with a $100 bill is more appealing than one with loose notes of less value and will therefore be given a better rate.
“It’s a black market thing, it never gets back to the banks. It’s an under-the-carpet thing … and it’s much easier to take your money back [home] if it’s in US [dollars].”
It also eliminates a paper trail. Forex traders in Yeoville don’t worry about being caught by the police because, according to Vince, their business is based on trust.
“When you are stopped by the police you just say: ‘I’m a Zimbabwean and this is my currency in my country’, and they don’t ask you where you got it from.”
Vince says that usually works because they never keep large amounts. “Nobody moves around with thousands, it’s only small denominations.” Besides, most people who buy and sell are “regulars” and that’s why there’s no “snitching”.
The hawala remittance system
Another popular aspect of currency trading is the hawala remittance system, which allows people to transfer money between countries in Africa. According to 2010 research by Frederick Ahwireng-Obeng and David T Mutombo in Real Money, New Frontiers: Case Studies of Financial Innovation in Africa, edited by Mark Napier, the money does not actually physically move between the two parties in the different countries, in this case, between Yeoville in South Africa and other African countries.
It is estimated that more than 25 hawala agents were operating in Johannesburg a few years ago, but with the ever-rising rate of immigration, the number of agents is increasing too.
According to the research, an example is that of a Ghanaian tailor in Johannesburg with a younger cousin in Ghana. He wants to send money to his cousin but, because he lives in South Africa illegally, going to a bank is not an option for him. He also knows how bureaucratic banks are, they charge high commissions, offer poor rates of exchange and can be rather slow.
The tailor decides to approach a hawala agent, who offers him a negotiable commission of less than 5%, and a promise that the delivery will be made within 24 hours. The hawala agent offers an exchange rate of nearly R1 less than what the banks were charging to the dollar at the time, increasing its appeal.
The agent then liaises with his partner in Ghana to arrange for him to give the tailor’s cousin the equivalent of the money in either dollars or Ghanaian cedi. The partner is then reimbursed by the agent in Johannesburg, either financially or in goods and services. Sometimes there is reverse hawala, where the agent in Johannesburg gives money to an individual on behalf of someone outside the country.
In Yeoville, Malawian transporter Ndale* is also a hawala agent. Many people with family in Malawi use him and the hawala remittance system to send money home. Ndale spends his days delivering goods with his bakkie to traders in the market for a fee while his side business is dealing between Malawians in South Africa and their families back home. He only deals in interactions between South Africa and Malawi as that is his established network and he has people he can trust back home.
MONEY CHANGES: People find it more convenient to exchange money informally on the street as the trade is speedy and leaves no paper trail. Photo: Tendai Dube
These are the methods used by many African refugees and immigrants who have been granted asylum in South Africa, with the expectation of living a better life away from their politically unstable countries.
Limited options for some
Adroa*, who wanted to remain anonymous for fear of deportation or arrest, is an immigrant who has exchanged dollars before. The Ugandan national struggled on his journey to South Africa. He chose South Africa because, according to him, it is considered a land of opportunity and democracy. “Where all dreams come true.” He travelled from Uganda through Kenya with $300 and then to Tanzania where he lost his money.
“When I reached Tanzania they robbed me of all my money, they conned me. They said I must pay for a bus straight from Tanzania to South Africa. I didn’t know that there is no bus.”
Adroa found himself in Mozambique without any money and holding on to the hope that his uncle living in South Africa would come and fetch him. He stayed with a “kind” woman for two weeks before his uncle managed to come to his aid.
On his journey from the Equator to South Africa, Adroa says he noticed that most of the countries he travelled through operated currency exchanges outside the formal economy.
“In Mozambique there are always people on the street and their job is to buy and sell.”
When Adroa arrived in Johannesburg, there were people waiting for the buses who offered to change his money on the very street where his bus stopped.
Adroa has been in the country for a little over six months, trying to become a businessman as he works for his uncle selling shoes. His uncle travels to Mozambique every few months to buy shoes and they both sell them here in Johannesburg.
When Adroa was new to the country, he remembers being naïve and lacking an understanding of rands. He recalls that he would sell shoes for his uncle by placing the box of money on the counter so people could take change for themselves. One day he received a counterfeit R200 note. He still has the bill so that he will never forget what a fake note looks like and will never make that mistake again.
Adroa’s legal stay in the country ended three months ago when his asylum period expired, halting his dreams to study in South Africa.
“When I finished school, I thought I would become an engineer, but I found I can’t be because it was too hard for me, so I became a business person. Being an engineer will take me more years.”
But formal education is impossible for refugees like Adroa who now live in South Africa illegally. He has been trying to renew his asylum status since June this year with the Home Affairs head office in Pretoria.
“Uganda is part of East Africa, East Africa goes there [to Home Affairs] on Thursday. I go there on Wednesday to be in the queue for the next day. But I won’t get asylum, as I enter the gate they say: ‘No, today is busy we are ending here [stopping the queue at this point] until next week.’ The last time I went there it was the same thing.”
Because of his illegal status in the country, he has been arrested about five times but never charged. He stays in the police cells overnight and then his uncle gets him out the next morning.
Adroa has no valid documentation and cannot use formal institutions. One of the authorised dealers based in Yeoville says that, in order to buy or sell other currencies, an individual needs to provide a valid passport with a valid permit, recent proof of residential address, proof of income and an airline ticket.
“You can even end up sleeping hungry when you’ve got money because you can’t change it.”
WESTERN WASTE: According to the people in Yeoville, the rates and the conditions at authorised bureaus are too high and inconvenient for people in the market. Trading illegally also eliminates any paper trail for people who may be involved in illicit dealings. Photo: Tendai Dube
Farai* is a Zimbabwean national staying in South Africa legally who sells vegetables inside the Yeoville Market.
Farai says she usually goes to Rockey Street to get her dollars exchanged and refers her friends there too. “It’s simple, they don’t need papers to change the dollars, you just give them the dollars and they give you the rands back.”
She knows of a few traders on that street but won’t use just anyone. “Sometimes you have to be careful, you can get fake money, so you have to know where you’re going in Rockey Street. You have to know the signs of money.”
When Faria exchanges money, she goes with small amounts to avoid being robbed or giving illegal traders any reason to follow her home. “If I change [money] today, I wait another week and then go back.”
Black market dealers aren’t known to just anyone, according to both Adroa and Farai. If you want to exchange any money illegally you need to know someone who can introduce you to a trader.
It’s a street rule known to all that if you want to exchange, you need to go through someone you know so that the trader knows you’re “safe”. This is mainly how they avoid arrest.
“I nzara [it’s hunger],” says Vince in Shona, explaining what motivates some to go into illegal dealings. And then sometimes it’s just business and looking to earn a profit.
*Not their real names
The market in Yeoville is a prime trading location but many traders have remained on a waiting list for the past nine years. By: Tendai Dube
FEATURED IMAGE:People find it more convenient to exchange money informally on the street as the trade is speedy and leaves no paper trail. Photo: Tendai Dube
Yeoville is keeping the spirit of Afrocentric fashion alive. Residents from across Africa believe that fashion shows more than style but it reiterates their presence and their identity. The people of Yeoville wear their Afrocentric fashion or “African wear” daily and fail to understand why other Africans wear Eurocentric every day.
Sunday afternoons in Yeoville can look like an Afrocentric fashion convention, with many residents sporting African printed designs on their way to church. But this celebration of African print is not restricted to Sundays. African regalia has become part and parcel of Yeoville’s day-to-day life.
FOOT WEAR: Victor Stamp displays his handmade African sandals every day on Rockey Street. Photo: Percy Matshoba
After South Africa became a democracy in 1994, anti-apartheid boycotts were lifted, imported goods started flowing in and so did people from the rest of Africa. Yeoville, which is close to the Joburg CBD, was one of the suburbs that attracted many immigrants. Although many of these people may have had to leave their loved ones behind, they refused to leave their identity.
The people of Yeoville are bold dressers. They wear loud prints in what are seen as African colours: green, red, yellow and orange. But it’s more than just style. Through their fashion they express the identity of various cultures in Yeoville.
Fashion is a reflection of a community, wrote The Guardian UK fashion editor Jess Cartner-Morley in her article, John Galliano’s return is more than a matter of style. Fashion world, wake up, published in October 2014. She wrote that fashion was important because it said “so much about who we are”. When a community changes its fashion trends it’s a result of a dynamic cultural shift, according to Cartner-Morley.
Editor of Marie Claire South Africa, Aspasia Karras, says the focus on Afrocentric fashion is a recurrence of what happened in the 1920s when African print made fashion headlines.
The history of Yeoville has always dictated its fashion trends. In the 1980s and ’90s this neighbourhood was a place for the lefties, the hippies, the rebels and non-conformists, whose clothes were just as left wing as they were.
While the rest of the country was following trends from the UK and US catalogues, Yeovillites were making and defining their own style. Their clothes were just diverse as they were. They mixed orthodox Jewish yarmulkes with African-print shirts and paired Western trousers with Zulu leather sandals, says former resident and writer Nechama Brodie. They embraced every aesthetic, every pattern, every print and every unorthodox style the suburb had to offer. And the new, Pan-African inhabitants are keeping this spirit alive. They too are setting their own trends.
Cartner-Morley wrote that fashion is a necessary means of expression. “… fashion is more democratic: a conversation in which anyone can have a voice.”
This is very true of Yeoville. The community is not as politically involved as it was pre-1994, but it is representative of people from all over the continent in South Africa. The community members may not express themselves in a language we can all understand, but Yeoville’s cultural shift speaks loudly through their choice of clothes.
The people of Yeoville need not go far to find their fashion fixes. The market on Rockey Street is a multicultural hub of “African wear”, more widely known in the fashion industry as Afrocentric. Several highly visible designers occupy stalls.
The Yeoville Market’s floors are dotted with offcuts of tiny colourful pieces of African printed fabric. These lead out of the market in all directions, from Joe Slovo Drive to Bezuidenhout Street, emphasising the presence of Africa in a previously Eurocentric neighbourhood.
Bashiru Gbolahan from Nigeria has been an Afrocentric designer for the past 13 years. The 30-year-old, who was born in Lagos, says he was taught to sew and design by his “master” whom he worked for after he graduated from high school. Since he moved to Yeoville in 2012 he has passed his skills of designing, cutting and sewing on to four others, one Malawian, two Nigerians and one South African.
“Three [Nigerian, Malawian and South African] of them have now started designing on their own,” says Gbolahan, “Bashy” to his customers. And it’s Yeoville that inspires him to keep designing.
On the cutting table, a Nigerian fabric is laid out as a tablecloth. His mother gave it to him before she died in 2012. After taking care of her for three years, he decided to start over in South Africa.
BUYING AND SELLING: Surrounded by her popular designs of Afrocentric or “African wear”, Ruth Otoo Baiden (left) has a thriving business. Ghanaian Akua Florence (right) is a regular customer. Photo: Percy Matshoba
Bashy says his main challenge is importing fabric from his home country. It is expensive, which is why he is open to customers bringing their own fabric. Consequently, he has worked with various local materials, including the Sesotho seshoeshoe and the isiXhosa black-and-white umbhaco prints.
Bashy’s clients come from all over the continent. “Malawians, Ghanaians, Congolese, Zimbabweans and South African women also love my designs,” he says. And his customers flock to him from various parts of Johannesburg: “Sandton, Cresta, Yeoville and other places.”
This designer describes his style as “African wear” or “traditional wear”, depending on who is buying it and for which occasion. He says he started designing “African wear” because he is proud of his culture, Yoruba. He has also learnt to understand and appreciate other African cultures through their fabrics and clothes.
Bashy creates clothes for people of all ages. His two-year-old daughter wears his designs and so does his wife. He works for men as well, specialising in Afrocentric shawls and short-sleeved shirts that are called dupa in Yoruba.
Another designer at the Yeoville Market is Ruth Otoo Baiden. She hails from Ghana and says South Africans have become more receptive to the Afrocentric style. Otoo Baiden, who has been designing since 1980, says she has seen a substantial increase in orders from South Africans.
“I used to call it traditional wear but now I call it African wear because all Africans now wear my designs.”
Otoo Baiden’s signature design is a Ghanaian dress which she makes in any colour. It is a drapey, maxi-dress that she has on display. Brown, with the collar and sleeves embroidered in cream and gold. This dress is called a boubou in her language, which is Twi. Unlike other African designs it is made from a synthetic fabric sold in Ghana. This dress has a similar cut to the common dashiki – which means shirt in Yoruba – but its fabric is sleeker and it has handmade patterns on the collar and sleeve.
Otoo Baiden’s design is accompanied by a head-wrap scarf in the same colour. She says it is mostly worn by married women in Ghana and some of the South African married or pregnant women have embraced the style.
Otoo Baiden imports her fabrics from Ghana. But she also gets material from the Democratic Republic of Congo, Senegal, Côte d’Ivoire and Nigeria, and also uses South African seshoeshoe fabric. The designers in Yeoville sell their fabric to their clients and among themselves because of the high cost of importing the materials.
The Yeoville Market consists of 212 stalls, which differ in size. According to market manager Sabatha Mekuto, the cheapest costs R60 per month while the most expensive, “with a higher roof”, goes for R360. In some places lessees rent out their stalls and charge much higher rents.
Bashy’s “landlord”, for example, rents his space out for R1200 per month. The space is the size of a jail cell and can fit two tables and a chest of drawers. Bashy finds it hard to pay this amount for such a small space. “One day I want to open my own shop,” he says.
Unsurprisingly, Afrocentric fashion has evolved over the years. “It started off as quiet, iterative, reflecting back things that were quite obvious,” says Marie Claire editor Karras. The Stoned Cherry label that was launched in 2000 was one of the first that combined African prints with a Eurocentric aesthetic in the South African fashion industry.
Since then Afrocentric style has been getting more interesting and trendier, says Karras. People are using their cultural fabric in a more creative way. “It is no longer pastiche, or as though one is playing dress-up when one is wearing an Afrocentric [ensemble].”
A local South African designer meets a Nigerian designer living and working in Yeoville. By: Percy Matshoba
Internationally renowned labels such as Louis Vuitton, Noir Jewellery, Marni and Derek Lam are increasingly using African prints and designs. This is not a new thing, as Karras says, adding that it can only grow if the African industry embraces it.
The women and men of Yeoville are a few steps ahead in celebrating home-grown Afrocentric fashion. Mbali Langa, a 28-year-old South African who sells sculptures, says she started wearing Afrocentric clothing in 2010 during the World Cup. She was supporting the African countries, in particular Ghana. “That is how I got to meet Ruth [Otoo Baiden].”
Ever since she has been wearing “African wear” on a daily basis. “I want to represent Africa every day.” She wears these clothes to the mall, to functions, when she’s meeting people, and sometimes when she goes to clubs.
“Some people who are not from Yeoville even hleba [gossip] about me in Zulu, thinking I am a foreigner because of my clothes.” She has also switched from “bling” jewellery to beaded ear-rings and necklaces to complement her dress.
Ephraim Molingoana, a designer at South Africa Fashion Week and a Yeovillite, says although his neighbourhood has inspired the scope of his designs, the mainstream fashion industry has not yet embraced the African fabric. “South Africa is still widely Eurocentric,” he says. The Ephymol label designer says Afrocentric fashion is not as popular among South African men as it is among their West African counterparts.
Maria McCloy, a well-known designer in the fashion industry, believes the contrary. “Yeoville is definitely a place where the Afrocentric style lives. Because of the Pan-African audience there are Pan-African clothes.”
McCloy was born in England and moved to Yeoville in 1997. She was attracted to it because of its energy and its rich history of music and arts. “It was very Pan-African when I moved there and even more so now.
“The fashion that mostly interests me is of people from the rest of the continent. That is what you see in the streets of Yeoville, mixed with South African street style and the usual Eurocentric.”
She says some South Africans in Yeoville may be wearing their regular “Mr Price” clothing, but many are now showing off their “African stuff”, made in the Yeoville Market.
She has always preferred a market setting to buy her clothing and this attracted her to Yeoville. Her inspiration from the market and the people of Yeoville manifested in her designs of Afrocentric shoes, bags, briefcases and suitcases.
AFROCENTRIC ENSEMBLES: Bashiru “Bashy” Gbolahan was taught how to design by his “master” after he graduated from high school in Nigeria. He immigrated to South Africa in 2012 and settled in Yeoville. Photo: Percy Matshoba
“I use seshoeshoe, Swati cloth, Tsonga cloth, Venda cloth, and wax print associated with the rest of the continent.” She buys her Congolese, Ghanaian, Nigerian and Zimbabwean cloth in downtown Johannesburg.
Just as people from Nigeria, Congo and Lesotho in Yeoville wear their traditional clothes every day, McCloy believes South Africans should move away from the culture of embracing their traditional wear only on Heritage Day or at traditional weddings.
Many of the designers at the market wear these prints as an appreciation of their culture, says Otoo Baiden. They do not understand why other cultures fail to do the same. Wearing African clothing occasionally, while embracing Eurocentric clothes every day, is bizarre.
Masechaba Elizabeth Kolota, a 59-year-old Yeovillite from Bloemfontein, says the suburb has encouraged her to wear her seshoeshoe clothes every day. “I feel like Yeoville encourages me to wear my cultural clothes because everyone wears theirs.”
Karras stresses that it is important for African designers to take advantage of the currently Afrocentric receptive industry, by sticking to their own “narrative framework”. South Africa need not only be influenced by trends from Europe or the United States: “We don’t have to be just copycats, we really need to embrace our own.”
Therefore, a Zulu-speaking man walking on Rockey Street, in Yeoville, to the Green House local pub to watch a soccer match with his friends, wearing imbatata (Zulu for traditional shoes) a Congolese boubou (meaning shirt) and Yoruba ankara pants should not be a strange sight in a fashion-forward South Africa.
FEATURED IMAGE: Surrounded by her popular designs of Afrocentric or “African wear”, Ruth Otoo Baiden (left) has a thriving business. Ghanaian Akua Florence (right) is a regular customer. Photo: Percy Matshoba
Many other Africans look to South Africa as a land of opportunity. Papa Luc, a Congo national, hoped to build a new life for himself when he fled his war-ravaged country in 2007. His life in Yeoville has turned out differently from what he expected.
Papa Luc ekes out a living in Yeoville cutting hair from 9am to 6pm for R20 per head. Holding an electric trimmer all day is a tough job and it shows on his knobby hands and swollen knuckles. You wouldn’t know that he has a degree in central hydraulic engineering. From a drawer beneath a bureau cluttered with clippers and combs he pulls out a wrinkled brown envelope. Neatly tucked inside are several degrees and certificates all inscribed with his real name: “Luc Ali Mabiala”. He glances over the envelope with a hollow look of unrealised dreams and a rueful smile. “Really, to tell you the truth I am not happy at all … Many, many companies here want me but I don’t have the right papers to work with them.” Papa Luc’s story is a typical one for many immigrants in South Africa who have found that they don’t earn any respect despite their prestigious qualifications. These highly trained migrants scrambling in the sizzle of Yeoville struggle to make ends meet when their qualifications have been rendered “toilet paper” in the absence of a South African ID. Some are still hopeful they’ll find jobs in their chosen profession, but many have forgotten their potential and are caught up in a daily rat race to put bread on the table and clothes on their back.
A heavy past
Papa Luc, 36, fled war in his native Congo-Brazzaville and has been in South Africa for seven years. At the salon where he rents a chair, everyone calls him ‘Papa Luc’ perhaps due to his wisdom and the early age lines making home on his face. Papa Luc is small in stature and appears to be meek and detached. He offers a quick stare and a deliberate smile as he talks about the Congo, letting anyone know where his heart resides. His hands are animated as he describes his home. But quickly the nostalgia disappears as he speaks about his reasons for leaving Congo. “It’s a very powerful country, very good people, humble people but politics is killing everything,” says Papa Luc. The history of Congo’s civil war began in June 1997, when Denis Sassou Ngessou, who had previously been in power from 1979 to 1992, organised a coup with the complicity of France to overthrow the president at the time, Pascal Lissouba. This war was fuelled by the discovery of oil in the Congo. “My father was being killed in our own house by Sassou Ngessou soldiers, my mother, my sisters were being raped in the house before me and it’s only God who gave us the chance to still be alive,” says Papa Luc.
RED RIDING POLO: This is Luc’s favourite shirt which he wears when he’s feeling “lucky”. Luc said, when his barber job was not providing a steady income, he bets on horses and soccer games at the BetXchange. This helps him cover rent expenses. The most he has won is R45 000, most of which went on to pay his university fees for a degree in Political Science. He still gambles, but admits he has not been as lucky. Photo: Thabile Manala.
The degrees covered with dust
Before the war, Papa Luc had earned his matric, then certificates and degrees in computer science and central hydraulic engineering. He had bright prospects and began working as an electrical engineer, his dream job. But for him, and many other Congolese, war destroyed those dreams and forced them to move abroad as refugees. “Let me tell you, war is not good huh, with an ethnic war it can follow you to hell,” he says. After arriving in South Africa as a refugee, Papa Luc continued his education and got certificates to work in a call centre and diplomas in IT, electronics and telecommunications. He did another degree at the University of Johannesburg in Political Science and Diplomacy. Yet despite these qualifications, every morning Papa Luc wakes up to go to his rented chair at a salon in Rockey Street to cut hair for R20 per head as a means of putting bread on his table.
But, where is your ID?
Papa Luc has made efforts to get employment and has sent CVs to many companies. The response from prospective employers is usually positive, he passes the interviews and it appears he will get the job—until the employers ask him one question. “But only one thing they ask from me: ‘Your ID?’ When I take my refugee paper and show them, they say: ‘what is this? Is this a toilet paper?’” Papa Luc says. “Whenever they say: ‘We will call you’ I already know what that means.” Many companies in Johannesburg are interested in Papa Luc’s skills, but he cannot overcome the monumental challenge of having the “right” papers.
Despite the situation of Papa Luc, and others like him, the Department of Home Affairs’ spokesperson Mayihlome Tshwete says government welcomes skilled immigrants who “will contribute positively to our economic development”. “In the critical skills space, our immigration regulations have made it easier for those seeking to further their careers in South Africa.” However, this clearly is not the reality many academic refugees are facing. Papa Luc regrets coming to South Africa and hopes to join his mother and sisters in exile in the United States where they have enjoyed more success than him. “They are beautiful, fat, they’re eating nice, they’re sleeping nice, they have cars. The American government gave them all the opportunities … With the qualifications I have, I could be very happy,” he says.
An unfair reality
Papa Luc is grateful for his job at the salon. But he becomes obviously withdrawn and smiles half-heartedly at the reality of his life. “With this job it’s giving me the opportunity to support myself, to pay schooling and the school of my baby’s home, to pay my rent even if I’m not buying nice clothes. I don’t care but my brain is full of knowledge,” he says.
Papa Luc is one of many foreign nationals with qualifications, including former academics, living in South Africa who have resigned their lives to owning small restaurants, working in salons, or—if they are very fortunate—working as teachers. Dr. Roni Amit, a senior researcher at the African Centre for Migration and Society, says that refugees are entitled to work and study in South Africa. However for their qualifications to be recognised they have to go through the South African Qualifications Authority (SAQA) which requires a lot of documentation.
“Any challenges they face are likely to come from discrimination or a lack of knowledge about a refugee status, rather than from the law itself,“ she says. The resistance that Papa Luc faces when he presents his refugee papers to prospective employers is testimony of this fact, even though his permit says he can work and study in South Africa. Many foreign nationals, like Papa Luc, try to play the cards they have been dealt in South Africa with their refugee status. But others decide to reshuffle the deck, and seek success outside the law with illegally arranged marriages to South African women.
Papa Luc, despite his many qualifications, makes a living trimming the hair of Yeoville residents. By: Thabile Manala
The hustle of arranged marriages
This is what Chikwe* (39) does for money. He refused to let his real name be used for this article and would only agree to be interviewed in a dingy alleyway behind a salon on Rockey Street. Chikwe has only one eye, the other is clouded over and blind. Using his good eye, he glances over his shoulder and scans the alley anxiously. “Everything we are talking [about] is very dangerous because if they can catch me talking to you like this I will be in trouble.” Like Papa Luc, Chikwe is also from Congo-Brazzaville. However, unlike his countryman, Chikwe has an illegal sideline in connecting South African women with foreign men in need of sham marriages for documentation. “You can travel from Johannesburg to maybe Mpumalanga or Limpopo to get a wife,” he says.
IN A PAST LIFE: Luc Mabiala was living out his dreams as an electrical engineer in the Congo – one of the few chosen to work on a project with the Chinese. The production of electricity was a specialised field he felt privileged to be a part of. He hoped it would advance his career. Photo: Thabile Manala
The women he finds are often without income and can be convinced to enter a marriage of convenience with a foreign man for a monthly payment. Many of them have kids but the child grant they receive from the government is not enough to provide for their families. Chikwe is the connection in these deals, and he is paid for every successful connection he makes. Chikwe says the terms of an arranged marriage vary in terms of the agreed financial transactions. Sometimes the man will give the woman R2000 or R3000 every month. Sometimes the monthly fee is as little as R1500.
It usually depends on the man’s financial circumstances. Chikwe says that often the women, although willing to engage in a deal, will still refuse to be married to foreign nationals. Instead, some of the women will travel to Johannesburg with the men to apply as “life partners” at Home Affairs, which is a recognised union by the department. The benefit for the men is the same—they can live and work in South Africa—while the women can avoid the stigma of being “married” to a foreign national.
Amit says little is known about the extent of arranged marriages with little empirical evidence on the subject. However, despite the lack of evidence, it is often talked about and treated as a serious issue by Home Affairs. Tshwete says: “It’s prevalent to the extent that it happens more than we would want it to. The exact number is hard to tell due to many cases being investigated and others not even being detected.” “The department also has a counter-corruption unit which was set up to look into matters of impropriety.” Chikwe’s good eye begins to shift sideways as he swears that these marriages of convenience are common and are a way for foreign men to make themselves employable in South Africa. The women involved either do so for financial reasons or unknowingly when their IDs are stolen by someone like Chikwe.
“Anyone, she’s working from the bank, she’s a teacher, she’s a doctor, anyone,” says Chikwe. Being legitimately married to a South African is a definite benefit. Lama May Mayele (44), a former boxing national champion from Congo, married a South African woman five years ago for love—though it had the added benefit of helping his business. By adding her name to his business, he was able to acquire credit from banks instead of having to pay cash up front.
Today he runs a successful security business. “No one will say ‘I want to pay cash’ whilst you have your wife who could apply for a bond … It’s a necessary tool,” he says. Papa Luc knows that having a South African wife would help his prospects, a prospective employer once even told him to get married to a South African so he could be employed. But still he refuses. “I said ‘no, it’s not good’ because first of all I will never love that woman, when I see her and know that I have corrupted her, I will never love her,” he says.
CLOSE SHAVE: From 9am every morning, Luc is at his rented chair in a hair salon. The customers sometimes trickle in slowly, so to maximise profits Luc also shaves beards and does women’s hair. He is diligent and has earned a trusted client base. Although there is another barber in the salon, many people would rather wait in line for Luc’s service on the busy days. Photo: Thabile Manala
“I did a course on law and international law. I am here in South Africa as a foreigner, the first thing I have to do is respect each and every letter of South African law. I am able to be corrupt and buy that paper but in my conscience I could never be at peace,” Papa Luc says firmly. These moral qualms don’t bother Chikwe: “Do you know that I can travel from here in South Africa using your passport? Do you know that I can buy a shirt with your credit card? Do you know that me I can get money from the government, you the money you don’t get, me I can get it,“ he says excitedly, turning his back from passing cars so he will not be recognised.
Chikwe didn’t start out as a hustler. This man, who brags in a back alley behind a hair salon about his aptitude at identity theft, holds a Master’s degree in Physical Geography. He teaches physics and French part-time at a private school in the Johannesburg CBD where he’s paid about R1500 to R2000 a month, less than the salary of his colleagues who are South Africans. Chikwe has been to SAQA to translate his degree into South African qualifications and has been to formal job interviews. But here his story becomes much the same as Papa Luc’s when he proffers his refugee papers. “They look at my folded A4 paper and say ‘ah kwerekwere’ I don’t know what is the meaning of ‘kwerekwere’ but you are human being and you are black … There is no respect with this paper,“ Chikwe says.
Chikwe defends his illegal activities, his hustles and his schemes. They are a way for him to make money, and he sees no other solution to his circumstances. Jean-Pierre Lukamba, vice-chairman of the African Diaspora Forum in Yeoville, says many foreign nationals are despondent since they possess skills which could be useful to South Africa. “They are stressed and traumatised, we’d understand if there was no shortage [of skills] but there are closed hospitals in Limpopo because of no skills,” Lukamba says. Lukamba said his organisation is in talks with companies to educate them about foreign nationals and refugees and their ability to work legally. Until then, many foreigners will continue to face closed doors. “Most of them feel like they are not human enough,” says Lukamba. Not only did war disrupt the lives of these men but their efforts to rebuild in South Africa have been met by systemic backlash. While some, like Papa Luc, are working within the law and their reduced circumstances, others like Chikwe have become hustlers. Both men know the world is not fair, but they also know a man needs to eat.
FEATURED IMAGE: This is Luc’s favourite shirt which he wears when he’s feeling “lucky”. Luc said, when his barber job was not providing a steady income, he bets on horses and soccer games at the BetXchange. This helps him cover rent expenses. The most he has won is R45 000, most of which went on to pay his university fees for a degree in Political Science. He still gambles, but admits he has not been as lucky. Photo: Thabile Manala.
With 50 000 walkers in the annual Walk the Talk taking place in Johannesburg tomorrow, Anazi Zote put together some survival tips for the not-so-regular walker.
Braamfontein’s Neighbourgoods market remained closed and empty till 11am this morning. Photo: Roxanne Joseph.
Joburg’s biggest inner-city attraction, the Neighbourgoods market, left customers locked out this morning as employees protested inside the space in Braamfontein.
Over an hour after it was meant to open, workers started a protest against the closure as customers stood outside in the cold, following a surprise visit from City of Johannesburg inspectors which left the market close to a permanent shut-down.
Adam Levy, owner of the market, arrived to deal with the situation only to be told the market does not meet certain regulations and requirements and cannot continue to operate.
Food stalls were required to remove most of their gas cannisters from the premises and some even had to move their set-ups from downstairs to the open area upstairs.
Owners of clothing and jewellery stalls which were all set up and ready for the market to open at 9am, were angry as they felt any food and safety issues should not affect them.
“I have to pay my rent,” said Christopher Wagner of second-hand clothing store Asseblief. “If they shut down the market I’m setting up on the side of the street outside.”
According to Wagner, in the three years that he has been selling his clothing here, the City has shut the Market down at least three times.
With a construction site right next door to the ground level of the building, inspectors said it was “unhealthy and unhygienic to eat here,” according to Karabo Mashishi of the leather brand Wolf & Maiden.
Some customers made their way to a local coffee shop to wait for the market to open its gates while others left in frustration.
“I’ve heard that the market has had incidents like this before,” said Clive Fortuine, a regular Neighbourgoods customer. “Last year this happened a few times, apparently there were too many people inside.”
The market eventually opened just before 11am and although security initially closely monitored the number of people they let inside, it filled up quickly and business carried on as usual.
THINK BIKE: Cars parked on part of the bicycle lane on Jorrisen Street, outside Senate House. Photo: Roxanne Joseph
The new lane dedicated to cyclists on Jorrisen Street in Braamfontein, has been launched with minimal regulation and enforcement causing some confusion among road users.
The introduction of the lane has led to a number of problems for drivers, including traffic congestion. The demarcation of the lane as a cycle-only space means that there are now only two lanes for drivers (instead of the previous three) and if you want to go into Wits University, the University Corner parking lot or turn left onto Bertha Road, you will be stopping traffic as you wait to turn safely.
There are no signs along the lane as yet and people are using it as a pedestrian lane, which puts them at risk of being hit by cars that ignore the cycles-only rule at various times.
The cycle lanes are part of a network that will link Melville, the University of Johannesburg (UJ), Wits and the Johannesburg CDB, according to Gail Jennings, a transportation researcher.
“It will be easier to see the value and function once the full route has been built,” she said. “The network was designed in consultation with the universities and various residents associations … and [was] extensively mapped.”
Without signage, people have been using the new cycle lane as a pedestrian lane. Photo: Roxanne Joseph
According to Jennings there is currently no proper by-law in place to ensure the lane is exclusive to cyclists. The regulations of such a by-law would ensure that cars do not drive or park in a zone demarcated for bicycles, buses or pedestrians exclusively.
The lane runs along the left-hand side of Jorrisen Street and is painted in green to distinguish it from the regular, driving lanes.
Jennings said that while cyclists would probably have preferred a segregated bike lane, these are difficult to create in such a dense city centre environment, where there are lots of pedestrians.
However, according to Thomas Coggin, a lecturer in Property Law at Wits University, the City should have made more of an effort to separate them from the rest of the road. The City of Johannesburg was not available for comment.
As a member of the Urban Joburg team, Coggin has done extensive research on urban spaces and the law.
“I think the City should firstly have ensured the lanes are essentially elevated above the roadway, aside from simply delineating the lane with a separate colour,” he said. “ In this way, there would have been a physical barrier to drivers illegally using the lane.”
“It will be critical that the City fines drivers illegally using the lane so that, in time to come, we can inculcate a culture of respect for non-motorised transport in the city,” Coggin said.
He believes that the concept is a positive change. “Joburgers need to move away from their usage of one-occupant motor vehicles, and learn how to walk, cycle and use public transport,” he said.
Wits University is lending its support to the initiative, “as part of promoting non-motorised transport alternatives in our city, in addition to ongoing investment in improving public transport options,” according to Emmanuel Prinsloo, director of campus planning and development.
Teecee Boley spends a day with a homeless man on the streets of Johannesburg, in the middle of the winter, to understand the unique challenges he faces on a daily basis.
DAILY GRIND: The homeless people of Johannesburg face extraordinary challenges particularly in winter. Photo: Kudzai Mazvarirwofa
“Move away, go!”, a security guard shouts at Azisa. The 35-year old former KwaZulu-Natal resident spends his days on the streets of Johannesburg, begging for money, finding shelter and rummaging through rubbish bins for any edible food. Being chased away by security guards is just a normal part of his day as a homeless man in the city of gold.
Azisa, who refused to give his surname, was released from prison a year ago where he spent the last three years for theft. His mother died while he in prison and his younger sister has been taken in by some relatives. With no money, a criminal record to his name and no identity document (ID), finding any kind of job is impossible. But finding a job is one of his lowest priorities, staying warm in plunging temperatures is his biggest challenge.
The 8am morning sun provides a little heat but winter has been tough on him. His only set of clothes is not warm enough and he does not have a blanket.
“The cold is hurting my bones and my leg is swollen,” he says, removing his sneakers to expose a leg badly in need of medical attention.
A smile lights up his face as he discovers a packet of fried chicken leftovers.
Azisa is happy to follow the security guard’s orders. As we speak, he moves away from under a tree at the Johannesburg theatre where he had spent the previous night. He takes his small black backpack which contains everything he owns and moves to the park across from the theatre.
The park presents two opportunities – one, to get heat from the sun and another, to beg for money. At midday, he gives up on the begging and heads to Park Station for a bath.
“I must pay R10 to clean my body. You see, I am smelling because I have not cleaned for two weeks,” he says pointing to his dirty clothes.
It’s 1:30pm as he heads to lunch. Rummaging through a rubbish bin outside the station, a smile lights up his face as he discovers a packet of fried chicken leftovers. His lunch is followed by a short nap and about two hours later, he starts begging again, this time in desperation for a blanket.
As the day comes to an end Azisa tries to find a place to settle down for the night. Despite the near freezing temperatures ahead of him, he remains hopeful: “If I just get the ID I will find a job, rent a place, marry and have two children.”
What do we really know about small Chinese businesses in Johannesburg? We might think of red lanterns, black-bean pastries, herbal teas, doll-like chiffon dresses and a fat, golden cat with a metronome paw. We delve a little deeper and speak to Chinese business owners about their struggles to fit in – and their struggles to get out. By Caro Malherbe.
Johannesburg is home to a vast number of small Chinese businesses. Crown Mines, Cyrildene and various China Malls around the city are recognised as a nexus for all small Chinese traders.
Generally offering a good deal, not many have explored how they came to be here. Chinese traders have a distinctive way of managing their money.
Not entirely integrated into the South African banking system or the tax system, Chinese business owners feel targeted and unsafe in this country.
The history of the Chinese trader
Alexander Chou is a Taiwanese diplomat at the Taipei Liaison Office of South Africa. Speaking with a slight American twang, he paints a picture of the unhappy Chinese merchant in South Africa.
“Even today there is a large group of Chinese in Johannesburg waiting for more gold to be found, wanting ‘to make it big’.”
Small Chinese businesses developed when independent Chinese immigrants started coming to South Africa in 1870, says Chou.Unlike indentured Chinese slaves who were forced to work for a fixed term and salary in the mines, these independent immigrants were prohibited from obtaining mining contracts so they turned to trade instead.
During a more recent wave of immigration, Steve Yeh arrived in South Africa with his family in 1991 when he was 10. His uncle’s family had already settled in Johannesburg and was convinced that more gold would be discovered.
Chou confirmed this by saying that even today there is a large group of Chinese in Johannesburg waiting for more gold to be found, wanting “to make it big”.During apartheid Chinese traders were affected by the Group Areas Act of 1950 and forced to operate from areas designated as “non-white”. These small businesses catered exclusively for the black community.
Chinese traders have been part of the city of Johannesburg for generations but many still feel they will return to China one day. Photo: Dinesh Balliah.
Although apartheid has been officially over for almost 20 years, Chinese traders still seem to be separated from the rest of Johannesburg, choosing to do business in specific areas.
Yeh works as a general manager and head of security at China Mart in the Crown Mines area of Johannesburg. He is a South African citizen but desperately wants to return to Taipei, Taiwan, with his wife and child.
“Asians are not safe in this country,” Yeh says. He feels that Chinese people are specifically targeted by criminals in Johannesburg. “It’s because we don’t like banks.”
The miserable merchant
According to Chou, Chinese traders do not plan to stay in Johannesburg forever. He says, if there is one thing to understand about the Chinese, it is that they are not scared to face hard times. Most Chinese put a great emphasis on education and working hard for their families, unlike other cultures.
“They will live off vegetables for the rest of their lives, to be able to afford a good education for their children. White people are so selfish. They will never sacrifice anything. They will never give to their brothers and sisters. Each and every one lives for themselves,” he says.
The honorary white
Skilled Taiwanese traders came to South Africa in large numbers between 1970 and 1990. South Africa saw Taiwan’s potential to help increase foreign investment and provided incentives to start up manufacturing companies in the rural and industrial areas of Johannesburg. This also helped the apartheid government keep non-whites out of urban Johannesburg as the Taiwanese businesses provided jobs for them outside the city.
These Taiwanese traders were given “honorary white” status. They were exempt from segregation legislation. The benefits did not seem to last long, though, as many Taiwanese immigrants later decided to leave.
This was due to the lack of job opportunities, the increase in crime, difficulties with South African labour legislation and strict laws on importing goods. In 1998 South Africa also officially recognised the People’s Republic of China, which created a strong economic relationship between the two countries, yet subsequently alienated people of Taiwanese origin.
“They [Taiwanese immigrants] were so well skilled, but they couldn’t find jobs. The unions did nothing to protect them and the South African government flushed away their investment like one flushes a stool,” Chou says.
Yeh explains the Taiwanese attitude towards government officials: In Taiwan, if someone doesn’t get an answer within 15 minutes of inquiring at official state institutions, the head of the department will have a big problem, “to the point where he might even be asked to step down. We as citizens pay your [government officials] salary. If you are not capable then you must step the hell down!”
Avoiding tax
Yeh says Chinese merchants do not trust the South African government. They do not want to pay tax or be “on the record”.
Almost all of the small business owners in Cyrildene only accept cash. Yeh says small Chinese businesses are “barely getting by” and they do not want to have to pay extra for bank charges. Instead they choose to have a substantial amount of cash on hand daily which makes them “easy targets” for robbery, says Yeh.
China Mall in Crown Mines is a hub for Chinese wholesalers. Surrounded by containers, it is where most Chinese small business owners come to purchase goods in bulk for their stores in other areas of Johannesburg.
“I have to stay here, thanks to your home affairs.”
“A family that comes to Johannesburg to make money doesn’t want to lose money by becoming involved in the tax system when they know it is all corrupt,” says Frank Zhang, a restaurateur and clothing shop owner.
Zhang explains that when traders come to China Mall to purchase goods, they are spending hundreds of thousands of rands in cash at a time. “There is no way they will swipe for that and lose money from the bank charges.
“Of course this makes them vulnerable to crime because then criminals know they have large amounts of cash on them. That is why many people will live behind, or very close to, their business,” says Zhang.
Recognised, registered and taxed
It is not only bank charges that prevent Chinese traders from making use of bank services. Like Yeh, who says he still has not received his South African passport, which he applied for 15 years ago, many Chinese traders have a non-resident status. “I have to stay here, thanks to your home affairs,” says Yeh.
This makes opening a bank account difficult and further removes Chinese traders from the South African business network.
Chinese traders tend to avoid the formal banking system in South Africa preferring to operate on a cash-only basis. Photo: Dinesh Balliah.
According to Anile Hlalukana from the South African Revenue Services (SARS), a small Chinese business owner can only be taxed if they are registered as a sole trader with SARS.
To make use of card machines, they would need a business bank account and the only way to get one is to be registered as a business with SARS.
Alycia Jacobs, a business banker at Standard Bank, says as long as someone is receiving a monthly income in South Africa, foreign or not, they have to be taxed.
“Where does the money go if they don’t have a bank account? Are they sending it abroad? Are they keeping it in their homes? They must have an account.”Zhang says some small Chinese traders register their businesses under the name of a company to get a tax number.
This company will usually be associated with a freighting or shipping firm. Traders can then open a bank account for their business which they use “for show” as all major money transactions are done in cash only.
Unhappy in Johannesburg
For the most part, Chou believes Chinese and Taiwanese people living in Johannesburg live unhappily. He says crime is rife, unions do not protect them and, if they study and become professionals, there are no jobs for them in South Africa.
“Sacrifice for the betterment of your family is part of the Chinese spirit.”
Chou says: “Since this country has managed to deter all Chinese and Taiwanese manufacturers, some of the manufacturers decided to settle down and become importers. They know the language, and it’s easier than trying to get into the industrial division here.”
South Africa is my home
Zhang sees himself as part of a small percentage of the Chinese in South Africa who have made this country their home. “Every country has its problems and there is crime everywhere. I laugh when they try to rob me.”
Both he and his wife are from northern China. Their eight-year-old daughter is the only Chinese pupil in her school and, according to her dad, she is excelling academically and does not have any problems socially. Zhang has bought a house in Bramley, a suburb of Johannesburg, and is very happy with his job.
Yeh feels differently“You have to consider where a person comes from to understand why they feel the way they do about being in South Africa.
“Northern China can be compared to a Zulu homeland. So do the math, what is better? If you come from a shitty place, you will love it here in South Africa. If you come from Shanghai, this place is a shithole.”
Self-sacrifice
“Have you ever been in poverty all your life? Have you ever been so hungry that your hands shake automatically? Where you wake up in the next morning and think: ‘Hmm, I just made another day’? Well, the fat guy sitting in front of you used to be in that situation.
For us, sacrifice is a virtue, something to be proud of. Something you don’t enjoy, but something that you have to do. Sacrifice for the betterment of your family is part of the Chinese spirit,” says Chou.
Yeh agrees that it is part of the Chinese culture to suffer in silence in the hope that your children will have a better future. “Up until the age of 30 we are living for ourselves. After that we get married, we have kids. That is when the weight of our responsibility shifts.
We don’t live for ourselves anymore, our kids come first. Our children are the ones who will carry our family name. They are the ones who will carry on what we leave behind,” he says.
Chou explains the Chinese philosophy on work. “The Chinese and Taiwanese alike work hard, they will do anything to make money. They will sacrifice their family life and their joys.”
He says he knows of a family in Cyrildene who owns a small supermarket. The five family members live together in one room behind their store. They share one toilet and use a bucket of water to wash as they do not have a shower or bath. The family sleeps on a double bunk bed with the parents at the bottom and their two adolescent children and 32-year-old cousin on top.
“To the Chinese, these are mere hardships to go through to taste the fruit of success. In your eyes it is suffering but to them it is living. They will sell anything, all in one store, as long as they can make a profit,” says Chou.
Gordon Lee came to Johannesburg and started a nursery called Golden Rod, which has grown over the years to the point that its net value is currently R15-million.
Lee has two children who went to university in South Africa and are both very successful in their respective industries. Because jobs are scarce, he says, his son moved to Australia to work as an engineer and his daughter moved to England.
He has no family in South Africa but closing up shop to be closer to his children is virtually out of the question for him.
“The reason I stayed on is, if I close it up, I will lose everything,” Lee says.
The business of family
Simon Hong, a curtain and bedding store owner at China Discount Mall in Randburg, says he sends money to his parents in China every month. “When that money arrives it is a sign that everything is well and good and that you are thankful to have been brought up in a way where you can be a successful business owner.”
Eva Lang and her husband own a small Chinese business in Cyrildene. She lives in South Africa with her six-month-old baby and manages their family business while her husband lives in China. Her husband sees Lang and their child twice a year when he comes to South Africa to monitor the progress of his business.
Chou explains that this kind of lifestyle may not be ideal and can cause strain on family life, but it is part of the Chinese culture to have a “spirit filled with hope for the tomorrow”.
“Often the reason they stay is that they believe they have little or no choice.”
“There are many people in South Africa who are poverty-stricken and live under the worst circumstances. But they are at least in a community, with their loved ones,” says Chou. The reason the Chinese do not mind going through hardships is because they live in the hope that things will get better – unlike South Africans, who don’t see their future improving, according to Chou.
Today, some Chinese small business owners in Johannesburg may be unhappy with their situation but there seems to be very little they can do to get out of it. Often the reason they stay is that they believe they have little or no choice. Whether they are suffering or embracing South African culture, they just want a better life for themselves and their children.
Chinese culture, their traditions and history influence the way they do business. Chou strongly believes that other cultures can learn a lot from the Chinese and what they prioritise in life. Although they emphasise financial success, their professional goals also lie in education.
Small Chinese traders are part of the community that makes Johannesburg the diverse city it is today, a city that houses many different cultures, each with its own story of how they came to be here. It is these merchants and migrants who are often overlooked and whose stories make Johannesburg distinctive.
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This feature was originally produced for the 2013 in-depth project of the Wits Honours in Journalism class. See more here.
In episode six of We Should Be Writing season 7, the team unpacked the evolution of music as a form of expression and protest, through four decades in the South African context. The episode explores the journey of South African music and its consumers from the 80s, 90s, early 2000s and contemporary listeners. From the […]
