Big city love song for Jo’burg

Posted on 26 May 2009

Yes, I know – love is not a word you traditionally associate with the big, bad city of crime and grime. But it’s true I love Joburg. The sentiment was reiterated recently, when I spent time sniffing out some of the city’s secret places for a Getaway

There’s nothing like touring your own city to rekindle an appreciation for exploration. I was also scouting locations for my first ever cover shoot, a task that proved quite taxing. My first mistake was to plan a shoot at the Carlton Centre’s ‘Roof of Africa’ on a Friday afternoon. What was I thinking? While my friend, Hayley, and I were trying to get into the inner city, every taxi was doing its best to get out. It shouldn’t have been such a problem, except, remember, we were dealing with Joburg taxi drivers here. Each driver pointed his car in an opposing direction and tried to force other vehicles off the road by shouting and flapping an arm wildly out the window. Then when the situation was well and truly gridlocked, each driver leaned heavily on his hooter, because, obviously, that was going to sort things out.

My little blue car was a small blueberry in a very messy jam and I could see no way out of the mush. Eventually we were swept along in a tide of minibus hell and deposited like a piece of detritus on the corner of Commissioner Street and Von Wielligh Street. Hallelujah, we’d reached our destination.

But the pics didn’t make the grade. ‘They’re too posed,’ I was told and ‘The dress is great, but why is she wearing heals?’ Fair enough, there aren’t too many Getaway adventurers out there trekking the Himalayas in high heals.

On to plan B.

‘Do you think they’re drug dealers?’ my friend, Matthew, whispered. His comment was made in jest, but all three of us cast our eyes towards the two men, deep in conversation, on the unfinished building overlooking Hillbrow. Truth is, they were standing exactly where we needed to be to take our photographs.

I’ve seen the location used dozens of times by photographers who come here to take pictures of members of the Zionist Christian Church against a dramatic, city backdrop. The Zionists come to this spot to worship over the weekends and are the reason it feels moderately safe to bring expensive camera equipment so close to Hillbrow.

We climbed the stairs and tried to look casual as I set up the camera and my friends unpacked a picnic. We were feeling rather sheepish, but trying to make out that snacking while Zionist watching was a commonplace activity. The men looked up briefly and continued their conversation. It turns out they were part of the congregation. They had pulled themselves aside for a private ministering session, but got invaded by a bunch of comical whities instead.

The resulting photos were a personal favourite, but they didn’t get past the cover committee, so it was on to plan C.

Plan C

I’m not going to bore you with every failed photo shoot, suffice to say that there were plenty. And, considering that each one was a zero-budget production, they all involved a lot of unpaid toil from friends.

Hayley was the main victim. I had her dressed up in a beanie and winter togs during the searing heat of day and in little summer dresses in the chilly evening. I made another friend, Conrad, ride around and around the same single track at a cycle park so many times I thought he would expire. I’m still surprised I have any friends left. Thanks guys, I appreciate it.

Did I eventually get my cover shot? Well, amazingly, yes. It involved the long-suffering Hayley on a rowing boat at Zoo Lake. It was the least elaborate shot of the lot, which re-taught me the basic tenet of journalism – keep it simple, stupid!






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