The homes we make, make us.
Most small-town South Africans who then become migrant labourers share a similar experience regarding the somewhat valid yet dramatic warnings of our people when we mention the desire or plan to move to this wonderful city. Everyone seems to know someone who has moved to the mecca and has been swallowed whole by its horrors. The ruthless killers and thieves, the drug cartels and the snow-white cocaine that lines the streets with the same stability and splendour as the jacaranda trees and of course the cunning men who seek to exploit the naivety of a small-town girl with promises of a love they are incapable of giving. Naturally, this is not an exhaustive list of Johannesburg’s demerits according to our loved ones and communities but surely the most pressing of them. And yet despite those warnings, some of us come to fall deeply in love with this city full of transgressions. Johannesburg, once simply open farmland in the highveld saw its first reinvention during the 19 ...