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So Where To? by Nomfundo Xulu-Lentsoane
The only way out of Soweto would be Old Potch or via Eldos. That is how the townships were built. One way in and one way out. Entrapment. Black person, you are stuck.For 17 years, I thought I knew it all. I was a Randse Afrikaanse Universiteit student for 54567567’s sake. We were numbers. Black numbers. Indian numbers. Paying numbers.
What is black, when I’m brown? What is this colour-mindedness? What the fuck is going on? The questions brought me back to how we landed on kilometres of land with houses that became home to millions of people, humans, us? Me? Houses so close that you could tell if your neighbour was taking a poo just because the body needed it or if they were not well.
The toilet was shared in Zondi, my grandparents’ house. Mkhulu? He was okay. Mkhulu would walk his wife (my grandmom) or any of us girl children out of the house if we did not want to use isikiki. I disliked isikiki because it meant I had to take it out to the ‘classier’ long drop in the morning. I always wanted to go back to the three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a garden home. The middle-class dream our parents were sold. And for the longest time, we lived in that shell. What a weird bloody mentality.
At the age of five, I was hidden under my mother’s body in Bester Zone 6 Pimville when the ANC and IFP shootings happened. It was the early 1990s. The shots went over our newly built homes. We started calling Bester Zone 6 'Soweto Heights'. From there, we could see everything happening to the rest of Soweto. Our fathers could see if the soldiers were coming.
In Soweto, we grew up to be hustlers. We would diss each other’s 'hoods. Every township was about competing. Nothing was normal, if there was ever such…
But this is about Pimville. From Blackchain to Kamakapane (Zone 5), we lived and still do. Kasi is scary when you hear the stories that you grew up with... about murder or killing each other. We had ‘ijackroll’.
But Kasi is amazing when you see the life at Meli Lounge at the former Pimville Square.
We laugh and remember the losses of people we knew whose lives were cut short in eKasi lethu like Sbani George Mdlalose who was shot for his car in the Sowetan ‘burbs. We were told not to play eZone 2 and Zone 3 because the girls and boys there were ‘incorrect’. That is where the rapists came from, they said. Zone 1, however, was the worst. Do. Not. Even. Talk. To. Them. That was the instruction.
ePimville, we all saw schools such as Khando’Buhle, Mdelwa, Musi, become literal firebrands… Not all of us went to those schools, though. Instead, we were transported to the inner South or West. When the gates of Old Potch were opened, we all went to so-called Model-C schools. I would still like to know what are Model-A and Model-B schools?
It’s okay, though. We still have amagwinya ase Zone 5 (vetkoek).
Some call it the South Western Townships. I say, "So Where To?"
I Love You I Hate You
Published in 2019, I Love You I Hate You is a book about Johannesburg told in two parts. The first part is the story of Love Jozi, relayed through more than 100 T-shirt graphics. T-shirts have been one of the brand's core products since it was formed by Bradley Kirshenbaum in 2005, with the city of Johannesburg its muse – ever-inspiring bold designs, and new ways of looking.
The second feature of the book is a collection of 34 short essays by Joburg thinkers, doers, and observers that spell out a complicated relationship with the city. Travel down unexpected paths and grapple with the competing emotions of love and hate that living in Johannesburg inspires. The writers include journalists, novelists, city developers, cultural critics, academics, designers, DJs, and entrepreneurs, edited by Laurice Taitz, publisher and editor of Johannesburg In Your Pocket.
Purchase your copy of I Love You I Hate You here and get the matching T-shirt.
Save the date: Kirshenbaum will tell the funny, heartfelt, and inspiring story behind I Love You I Hate You at Design Week in Joburg on Thu, Oct 10.
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