In the 80s and 90s, Rockey Street, and a big part of Yeoville, was an escape for those who wanted an alternative to the apartheid lifestyle. A grey area developed where people of different races and backgrounds could mix with one another. Today that same grey area exists. This section of Yeoville has become known as a place of vice where anything and everything goes. This is the experience of an outsider coming to Rockey Street, accompanied by a character named “Mr Jookx”.
The balcony of the Rasta nightclub Tandoor gives you a bird’s-eye view of Rockey Street. At 6pm, the road is bustling and Jookx is talking business at a jewellery shop across the road. The smell of marijuana is getting stronger, and the guys hanging out upstairs decide to roll a joint.
Tevin looks around nervously while he rolls the joint but Jookx, back from his dealings at the shop, reassures him. “Don’t worry my man, the cops don’t worry here. Yeoville is for party animals.”
This is Rockey Street in Yeoville, where smoking marijuana and other vices are openly practised without much care.
ENTER THE DUNGEON: This is the entrance of the Rasta club Tandoor. This Rockey Street hotspot was established in the 80s but started out as a tandoori chicken restaurant. Photo: Luke Matthews
During the day, the street is filled with people shopping for food, buying clothes or visiting one of the salons for a new hairstyle. People go about their business with each other – business that may go on into the night.
“The smell of marijuana is getting stronger.”
In Yeoville the money never sleeps and night time is not much different from the day – this is the time for the night owls to do business.
In the street, which is packed with parked cars and piles of fresh rubbish stacked on top of old rubbish, people conduct business like washing cars, trade, as well as various other legal and illegal transactions.
Rico “Jookx” Myer is a DJ at Club 28, an establishment next door to Tandoor. He also runs a music studio from Club 28. Jookx says the studio is a team of people who work together, helping one another to record a track.
Once the location of struggle icon Joe Slovo’s childhood home, Tandoor is now a Rastafarian bar and club. Established in the early ’80s, Tandoor started as a restaurant specialising in authentic Indian tandoori cuisine. The restaurant then developed into a venue known for its live performances and themed nights.
Today, the restaurant is long gone. Tandoor still has some live performances but the bar is more known for its marijuana smoke and recorded reggae music. Walking into Tandoor is like walking into a dungeon. You enter a dark tunnel with trees painted on the walls. Halfway through the tunnel, the smell of marijuana hits your chest like a blast of wind.
Right next door, at Club 28, the nightclub has a completely different atmosphere from the reggae club.
Its walls are covered with light blue-and-white striped wallpaper. The floor has white tiles. There are tables and chairs for the people just stopping by for a drink to sit at. There are white couches for the people who want to chill for the night.
The DJ has his own stage in the corner. The dance floor surrounds it and, according to Jookx, on a full night there isn’t room to stand. There is equipment on the stage such as speakers and microphones for live performances. The club’s entrance fee varies depending on what name is performing there.
Security is not a problem at Club 28: “We got six of the biggest niggas here, so no one will ever take chances,” Jookx says.
The owner of the club, a man known simply as Boss Godfrey, is himself a big man with tree-trunk arms, boulder hands and a broad muscular wall of a chest. Jookx doesn’t only run the music and entertainment, his hustle includes parking as well: “You can even call me and say: ‘Mr. Jookx, I’m on my way’, then we’ll make sure you have a parking space in front of the club.”
You can have parking set aside for you, but don’t act like that makes you a VIP. That’s a recipe for trouble, according to Jookx.
“You see, we don’t like bullies. You must not come here and expect to be the top dog. Like I said to you before, Yeoville is a hustler’s spot, you must respect the other man’s hustle,” Jookx says.
The busiest days for the clubs in Yeoville are on Sundays and Mondays. These are unusual days for a nightclub, but Jookx explains that partying on a Monday is a Yeoville tradition.
“On Sunday we have shows here in the club [Club 28] and the people just continue the party from Saturday. On Mondays people need to unwind after a long day [back] at work. Tuesdays this place is dead so it is closed only on a Tuesday.”
NAIJA NITES: Club 28 is next door to Tandoor. The night club has a different atmosphere to that of its rastafarian neighbour. Club 28 is open on most days during the week except on Tuesday and has theme nights like Wednesday night which is Naija night where Nigerian musicians perform in the club. Photo: Luke Matthews
Yeoville accommodates every sort of partier and thrill seeker. If you want to take a seat and relax while drinking a beer and smoking a splif, then Club 28 and Tandoor are the places to go to. However, there are also other establishments that cater for those who just want a place to drink without any frills.
Another prominent hang-out spot for the residents of Yeoville is The Green House, situated on Raymond Street. From the outside the place looks like a storybook mansion. An old man is sitting by the entrance, glaring at us as we walk in. He stands up and asks: “What do you want?” After some more questioning, it’s obvious this is a Nigerian spot and, if you are not Nigerian, you can be very unwelcome until you earn the patron’s trust.
Entering the big yellowwood door without the proper authorisation is not permitted. If you do make the mistake of trying to enter this door, the hulk guarding it will tell you to leave.
“This place is sus [suspect].”
Inside, The Green House looks like a house without much furniture. Single chairs and stools are scattered around the place, but there are not a lot of tables. The bar is barricaded with iron bars with the bartender behind it.
Tevin leans over and whispers under his breath: “This place is sus [suspect].”
There is a man on the left braaing meat for the customers. On the left are people standing, sitting, drinking and talking. The atmosphere makes it feel less like a nightclub and more of a house party. Except that a house party might have more frills.
Music is playing from a phantom jukebox. There are no facilities for live music or performances. No stage, no mics and no mixers.
Downstairs is even more bare bones. As you walk down the steps, you are immediately met by crates of empty beer bottles. The place is dark and seems more sinister compared to the other clubs. There are also two pool tables there, as well as a bar. The phantom jukebox is found, playing music selected by the highest bidder.
The patrons are in high spirits, one man even saying that he could genuinely drink at The Green House the whole day. Asked whether he had a job he answered: “No, why do I need one?”
In a corner of the darkened space downstairs, a man stands looking like a silent observer, giving off a suspicious vibe. He watches patrons approach the pool table and demands a fee for them to play. He isn’t a staff member, it’s just a small-scale shakedown. Hustlers like this man are common in The Green House. In fact they are common all over Yeoville.
At night the suburb becomes a place where every vice can be fulfilled. If you want to get high, the drug merchants are stationed on the streets and in the clubs; it’s up to the customer to decide whose product is of good quality. If you’re looking for companionship, brothels or “guest houses” are scattered all over Yeoville within walking distance of your nightclub of choice.
More traditional trading avenues are also open in Rockey Street at night. On the road where you park your car, the parking attendants are more than willing to wash it for an extra tip. The supermarket also stays open some nights to accommodate the club hoppers who get hungry while partying.
MR JOOKX: Rico “mr Jookx” Myers is a DJ and entertainment manager at Club 28 and Tandoor. He also runs a recording studio from the back of Club 28. According to Myers everyone i Yeoville has a hustle. Photo: Luke Matthews
The differences between Tandoor, Club 28 and The Green House aren’t just in the décor, layout and atmosphere. The way they do business also differs. While Tandoor and Club 28 both sell spirits and dumpies, The Green House primarily sells quarts of beer. This is because it is known as a “smokkel” house, a place with the sole purpose of selling booze to drink, and only drink. To sell quarts also means that if the cops come asking for a liquor licence, the patrons can claim they just came to sit at the establishment with their own drinks. The Green House can claim that it’s only providing a venue for people to drink and not the substance itself.
According to one shebeen owner, the maths is simple for quarts: he makes more money from quarts because people are buying in bulk.
“If I sell one six pack of [beer], that will get me R36. But if I sell three draughts of the same beer I get R45. That is more or less the same amount of beer, but I’m making more profit on the draughts,” he says.
The pervading outlaw spirit has been a part of Yeoville for years. In the 1980s, it was the place to find an alternative lifestyle and escape the apartheid way of living. People of different races, cultures and backgrounds converged on Yeoville for its night life as it was a sort of grey area when it came to the apartheid laws.
Different people mixed with one another. You could sit and have drinks with famous jazz singers and popular political figures of the time. It was a place where controversial ideas were discussed and heard. Yeoville had an outlaw atmosphere that drew people to it.
Today the bars and clubs of the ’80s and ’90s are gone, replaced by new bars and clubs and the latest reincarnations of Tandoor, Club 28, Jozi City and Times Square, but that same spirit can still be found there.
It is like Jookx says: “Back in the day you had white cops doing favours for white business owners, today it is black cops doing favours for black business owners.”
The roles have reversed but the overall idea still remains. The phrase “the more things change, the more they stay the same” resonates here. The story is the same, the characters just change.
FEATURED IMAGE: This is the entrance of the Rasta club Tandoor. This Rockey Street hotspot was established in the 80s but started out as a tandoori chicken restaurant. Photo: Luke Matthews
Rastafari are a significant part of the Yeoville community and have made substantial strides to establish and integrate themselves. But this has created a problem in how they remain true to their cultural practices while conforming to Yeoville society.
Ras Zwesh was just about to light up his zol when the police raided Rasta House and arrested him for possession of drugs. He was there as the master of ceremonies for a live reggae performance. Instead, he spent the night on a wooden bench in the reception area of the Yeoville police station. He was not charged.
ITAL: Ras Zwesh (Zwelithemba Twalo) buys his fruit and vegetables from the Yeoville Market. “I like to support the local produce,” he says. Rasta only eat ital. This word is derived from the word vital. Rastafari only eat naturally grown food that has not been processed and they do not eat meat. Photo: Rofhiwa Madzena
“It [Rasta House] was never like this, it was a safe place.” Nowadays, Ras Zwesh says, the sale of alcohol and “the loud provocative music” have attracted the “wrong kind of attention” and have caused Rastafari like himself to live isolated.
A different place
Towards the back of Rasta House an incomplete building structure is hidden behind an entertainment area with a bar, pool tables and an upstairs lounge area. Ras Zwesh, whose real name is Zwelithemba Twalo, explains that, initially, this building was to serve as a venue for religious and social interaction between the Rastafari.
“And now the priorities of the owners, who are also Rastafari, have changed.” They now sell alcohol, although the consumption of alcohol is against Rastafari culture. When Ras Zwesh reaches out to touch the structure, cement crumbles from between the bricks.
Why Rastafari came to Yeoville
Ras Zwesh is a poet who has lived in Yeoville since the ’90s when he moved back to South Africa from the United States. “Yeoville is different from any other community in the world … It is a space where you can live the way you want. It’s a community that is mature and tolerant.” He adds, however: “Rastas are not conventional. In Yeoville we’ve had to compromise to live together.”
It is unclear when the Rastafari movement first moved into Yeoville. However, according to Ras Zwesh, Rastas were among the first black, “non-servant” people to settle in Yeoville. He says Rastafari first came to Yeoville to deal “the herb” in the 1980s and ’90s, decades which offered business opportunities for drug dealing.
Yeoville was a popular social scene then. There were political poetry sessions in the day and, at night, night clubs, bars and restaurants buzzed with music. It was a place unique in South Africa as people were not restricted by their race, culture and beliefs.
Elder Blue, co-owner of Rasta House, says he moved to Yeoville in 1997 from Jamaica, mainly because there was already a community of Rastafari in the area. Another reason was that he had a “spiritual connection” with the area. “There is the spirit of true freedom and art expression here.”
The orders that categorise most Rastafari
There are three distinct orders, also known as houses, of the Rastafari that form a part of the greater community in Yeoville. The orders are the Nyahbhingi, the Bobo Ashanti and the Twelve Tribes of Israel. They were established in the 1930s in Jamaica.
“The houses are a security thing. They are a place of fellowship and companionship,” according to El Supreme, a Rastafari musician living in Yeoville. Ras Zwesh says the houses were formed as a platform on which “black people who were oppressed at the hands of colonialists could express their unhappiness”.
“We live together in the same community, we meet as neighbours. There are many other aspects in Yeoville that unite the different orders.” However, he adds that “there are instances of discrimination and divisions where people discriminate simply because you are not in their houses”.
“It happens to me every day. I’m always enthusiastic to meet other Rastas in the street but when I stretch out my fist to greet, they pull back and I get the response: ‘Me don’t touch blood’. Some Bobos and some Nyahbhingi have that holier-than-thou mindset.”
“The Twelve Tribes of Israel are the most accommodating,” explains Ras Zwesh. “The order accepts homosexuals as well as white people even though, traditionally, the movement rejected whites and white supremacy.”
The Twelve Tribes of Israel have the greatest following in South Africa. Ras Zwesh says this is due to the popularity of the movement during the apartheid regime. The main doctrine of the movement was based on the conditions of the time, and “religion and culture were important for many people, not politics”.
DRAGGIN’: A man, Gabra, lights up a joint during the church service. The Rastafari are strong believers in vegetarianism. They also believe that marijuana is a vegetable given to them by God to use to fulfil themselves spiritually. Photo: Rofhiwa Madzena
This was not the case with the Nyahbhingi, who saw themselves as warriors. “They thought they had to be involved in everything,” says Ras Zwesh. The Nyahbhingi have evolved since then and believe that politics and political parties divide people. However, this has not made them any more tolerant, he says, describing people in the order as racist and as persecutors of homosexuals.
“They have forgotten the teachings of His Imperial Majesty [Haile Selassie],” says Ras Zwesh. “He preached that we respect the laws of all countries and in South Africa it is legal to choose sexual orientation.”
Gabra Hillary, a Rastafari living in Yeoville, says that he made the decision to leave the order. “I couldn’t live like that, it just makes you different from the rest of society.”
The Bobo Ashanti are described as the most Pan-Africanist group in the Rastafari movement. Members had close ties with political parties and were originally driven by the notion that, “Africans cannot sit by while Africa is being destroyed”. Nowadays many people in the group have chosen to separate themselves from these principles, says Ras Zwesh. They can be seen in Yeoville drinking in taverns and establishing businesses. “They are business-minded Rastas. It is not a bad thing but I think they will do anything for money.”
AN OFFERING TO JAH: Inside the Rastafari church, Rastafari, chant and praise around a shrine of Haile Selassie. The shrine is made up of an offer of fruit, Bibles, bronze and gold crosses and a Hanukkah menorah holding candles. There is an infusion of burning incense, candle smoke and marijuana in the air. Photo: Rofhiwa Madzena
One of the only ways to survive in Yeoville is to make money, according to some Rastafari living there. A Rastafari who calls himself Bon African is from Kenya and sells “clothes unique to the movement”. Most of the t-shirts, skirts, pants and hats contain red, yellow and green – the colours of the Ethiopian national flag.
Today, many Rastafari, despite their different cultural orders, share a similar sense of fashion, which creates a sense of shared African identity. They wear dashikis (Nigerian and other West African prints), turbans and other loosely fitting, bright clothes that cover the whole body.
Bon African’s shop assistant, who asked not to be named, says Rastafari from the different orders buy clothes based on the order of the colours on the clothing item. “For example, a Nyahbhingi will only buy a turban if green is at the top, yellow in the middle and red at the bottom. Bobos want the red to be at the top.”
Women’s clothes sell fast, he says, especially the skirts. Women, particularly in the Twelve Tribes of Israel and the Nyahbhingi, still dress culturally and conservatively. “You will know them by their skirts that sweep up the dirt in the street,” Ras Zwesh jokes. “They also cover their heads with turbans and arms with long sleeves.”
“You don’t have to look like a man to be a feminist,” says Sister Lulu, a member of the Nyahbhingi order. She says their dress sense “keeps us in touch with our femininity”.
Meanwhile, some young people and feminists in the Rastafari movement believe the orders should reflect the workplace and prevalent social behaviours. Ras Zwesh says: “Many young Rastafari don’t identify with the houses in Yeoville. They are independent, not only because the houses are not originally from South Africa but also because of the dictatorship-ness.”
“The orders must be more dynamic and reflect the consciousness of people in an ever-changing society,” says Ras Zwesh, drawing on the mindset of Rita Marley, Bob Marley’s widow. She believes the orders should not dictate the way people live. He recalls attending her concert in Newtown, where she was criticised for wearing jeans, and spoke about her beliefs.
The orders are not African enough
The practices and the challenges of the orders have, in recent years, caused divisions between the Rastarafi in Yeoville and in South Africa. There have been African adaptations of the three original houses. These are argued to reflect more “Africanised” interpretations of the religion.
Thau-Thau Haramanuba, leader of the Bakehase (a breakaway order) and executive member of the Rastafari United Front, says the current practices of the Rastafari in the Bobo Ashanti, Nyahbhingi or the Twelve Tribes of Israel have deviated from some of the first principles on which Rastafari is based. Although he lives in Limpopo, many of his followers are to be found in Yeoville.
“It is important to take back Africa to its roots and free the imprisoned minds of black people.” He adds that these offshoot orders are important because they base their principles on the African identity, something he says many Rastafari have lost.
Bakehase is a combination of two words: Ba (Bantu people) and Kehase (Kedamawi Haile Selassie). “It’s not a bible order of Rastafari, it’s a Bantu order of Rastafari,” says Haramanuba who has been the leader of the order since he formed it 14 years ago. He says Bakehase is not copying or mimicking the Jamaican Rastafari. The practices of the order are founded upon the South African experience of oppression which is then adapted into the principles of Rastafari.
BLESSED: Sister Nomusa Mpofu receives a blessing from one of the five administrative priests at the Rasta church. The church is located on Hunter Street, Yeoville. Inside, the Rastafari chant and praise around a shrine of Haile Selassie. Photo: Rofhiwa Madzena
“These houses do the very thing that Rastafari stands against.” He explains that there are two schools of thought in Rastafari, a Judeo-Christian and an African-centred school of thought. The Judeo-Christians base everything they say on the Bible and Africans base theirs on African spirituality, African philosophy, ubuntu and Africa frames of references which “use the black man’s understanding of God before the white man came here with his Bible, enslaving us and exploiting us for free labour”.
There is a leadership crisis within the structure of the other houses, he says, because “they use a framework [Christianity] that was imposed on them”. He says the three houses argue that they do not have a high priest or leader. Their high priest is Haile Selassie or Jesus Christ. “… It sounds like Christianity but they say they are Rastafari. That is just not the essence of Rastafari.”
Sixty-seven-year-old Empress, who uses no other name, moved to Yeoville from Harlem, New York, three years ago. She is not part of a particular house. “I don’t believe in the separation that the houses have caused because as Rastafari we are supposed to be one.”
Empress immersed herself in the Rastafari way of life when she was a teenager. She says she does not live by the laws of the different orders but rather by the laws and principles that were left by His Majesty Halie Selassie for all Rastafari to live by.
Empress believes that all African people are born Rastafari. “They just don’t know it, nor do they embrace it.” She says the lack of acceptance and understanding between people poses a challenge to living as a Rastafari, but it is the way Africans are meant to be living.
“I used to go to family gatherings and I’d feel left out by my own family. They wouldn’t prepare vegetables for me and the ones that they did were mixed with meat and I don’t eat meat, as a vegetarian.”
She says, though, that her living as a Rastafari has changed their views somewhat. “They’re coming around, they would laugh at the way I look because I am living the life they are afraid to live but they are starting to resonate with my lifestyle. I don’t have to teach them, they just see how I live.
The commercialisation of dreadlocks in Yeoville. Traditionally dreadlocks are associated with the Rastafari movement. They connect Rastafari to God.
The evolving Rastafari
On the other hand, Ras Zwesh disagrees that all African people are Rastafari. “There has been an African romanticism [among Rastafari] without looking at the reality of Africa. Metaphorically speaking, yes, but literally speaking they are not Rastas. Rastas aren’t even Rastas. It goes beyond being black, having dreads and smoking ganja. You must love and overstand [understand] yourself and the world.”
He says people, especially in Africa, are not like that. “The priorities of my people are based on a certain degree of selfishness and acquiring only for themselves,” he says in a low voice.
The pressure and the intrusions of the outside world have caused growing tensions within the Rastafari community in Yeoville. “There was a time when Yeoville only had a community of white middle-class people. We were fine with that because they would pay us for the art we did.”
Since the end of apartheid, the white middle class moved out of the area and was replaced by a black middle class, says Ras Zwesh. “They don’t support local art or music, even the Rasta business owners; they have joined the black middle class.”
“Instead of a growing movement, the Rastafari community in Yeoville is now lull. It has gone to sleep. We no longer have a movement in Yeoville like before where Rastafari were driven by socialist ideals to help the community. Just more black middle-class people like in the rest of Johannesburg.”
He fears for the future of the Rastafari community. “My son will have no one to learn from when I am no longer around. Things have changed from bad to worse for us.”
FEATURED IMAGE: A man, Gabra, lights up a joint during the church service. The Rastafari are strong believers in vegetarianism. They also believe that marijuana is a vegetable given to them by God to use to fulfil themselves spiritually. Photo: Rofhiwa Madzena
PEACE,LOVE : RAS member Terrance Nzuza prefering to smoke a beedi (Indian-style tobacco wrapped in a leaf) rather than marijuana. He said Rastari culture was not all “pot-smoking and reggae. “ Photo: Mfuneko Toyana
AFTER a three year hiatus, the Rastafarian community is back on campus with a new name and a fresh vision that will kick-off this Friday when the society hosts the 2014 National Rastafari Summit. [pullquote align=”right”]“Ganga doesn’t make the Rasta…there is a time and space for praying, same as ganga,”[/pullquote]
The two-day summit is part of the Rastafari Association for Students (RAS) (formerly the Rastafarian Appreciation Society) celebration of Black History Month as well as an attempt by the Rastafarian community on campus to reposition itself as a human rights group.
“The [previous] society became about reggae and pot-smoking. These things didn’t inform students about the culture,” said Terrance Nzuza, an art student and one of the leaders of the society.
“RAS is opening its heart and doors to other societies and cultures. It is not a platform for conflict.
The vision is to follow the teachings of Haile Selassie, especially his vision of forming the OAU (Organisation for African Unity) and celebrating humanity,” Nzuza said.
[pullquote]The summit starts on Friday at lunch time in Senate House basement five with talks by Ras Dr Midas Chawane and Ras Mandlenkosi Matiko followed by a panel discussion open to the floor.[/pullquote]On the issue of marijuana, which is often inseparable from Rastafarian culture in the public mind, Nzuza said they viewed smoking of the herb as sacramental.
“Ganga doesn’t make the Rasta…there is a time and space for praying, same as ganga,” said Nzuza, who has been a Rastafari for over a decade.
Nzuza explained the summit beginning on Friday would be chiefly about Rastas learning to exercise self-criticism and taking ownership of their identity.
The self-funded summit was borne out of 44 challenges identified by research conducted by the CRL (Cultural, Religious and Linguistic) Commission.
It will draw representatives from Rastafarian houses and mansions around the country and further afield to discuss issues and find solutions to problems such as “police brutality and petty justice” directed at the Rasta community.
The summit is open to all those wishing to learn more about Rastafari or have an interest in the culture.
Nzuza said while it was good that many had learnt the principles of “peace, love and happiness” from Bob Marley, it was essential for people to go beyond this and deeper into the teachings of Rastafari.
In this episode, we explore the feasibility of social housing for students, and the advantages and disadvantages that the inner city offers to the development of a student precinct.
