Welcome to Johannesburg, the world's most dangerous city with the world's most violent criminals

Because we're immersed in our situation in South Africa we think it is normal when someone says to us, here in Johannesburg, that they can have someone you don't like (or disagreed with) murdered.

The crazy thing is that this is happening between white folks. I remember in the bad old days when my sister had a drug problem, I made an errant comment about my father and the guy she was with said, "Want me to get rid of him, I can arrange it?"
Something similar happened to me recently, and someone said they could have my ex-landlady killed. Jeepers, is life so cheap that if you disagree with someone, or don't like them, that you have them murdered, or suggest or offer to do this as a sort of favour? Scary.

Slum Wars - The Farce Continues

So last night (Monday, Family day) after making 3 x 10111 calls, 3 police officers (er...real ones this time) pitched up about 3 hours after the first call. We sat them down on the couch - this was around 11:30pm and told them our sob story. When all was said they told us they weren't going to do anything, they needed to us to go to the police station personally and make a statement.

So during my lunchbreak I picked my girlfriend up and headed to Norwood Police Station. As I entered the door my phone rang and a voice on the other end said he was from Norwood Police and he wanted to see me on a charge of malicious damage to property. I said, "Well I am right here." I then headed upstairs to find the Lady of the Castle all dolled up and looking like the most well kept Slumlord in Norwood. Quite a change from the towelheaded hag cleaning the pool.

To recap:

- the slumlord accused me of malicious damage to property, particularly to her fridge. In fact she removed the cable of the fridge herself and must have gone to plug it in downstairs last night whilst accompanied by 'the police' (a woman who was in fact her trauma councillor, and who had been misinformed that I had apparently not rescued her after being locked by three thugs in her safe.

- she trespassed last night not for the first time, probably the 6th time this month. This happened by having a person accompanying her misrepresent herself as 'the police'.

The sad irony to the above is my girlfriend says she can't remember me asking her to carry the cable (which was severed by someone) of the refrigerator. This was the only thing I asked her to assist me with - and she doesn't remember. The guard on duty, Wanda, might remember seeing the both of us walking in tandem to the garage. Even so it is a somewhat silly case. If there was any damage it's likely to be covered by insurance, and a severed cable is unlikely to cost more than R50 to fix (I can fix it manually), and an odd broken plate is unlikely to be more than R100. I didn't maliciously damage anything; in fact a pile of dishes in the garage I placed on the sofa in front of her door (this was the most fragile item of all).

The other sad irony is that the same day I replaced locks to the Loft, my girlfriend was manipulated into letting two people in the place. One, a Mrs Kramer, who pretended to be with the police ("we're coming to you after visiting a murder scene in Houghton")and the other the Slumlord. Although I've told my girlfriend not to open the door to anyone, both times the Slumlord has tried to get in she's succeeded. And all she does when she gets inside is screams at my girlfriend, threatens to kick her out and tries to find something else to pin on us. I'm quite frustrated that my girlfriend hasn't really helped the situated, but then she is in a strange place and I guess wouldn't expect this level of evil straight off the bat from an apparently upper class, educated elderly woman.

What have I done?

For every action there is a reaction. My response to last night's game of 'let's pretend we're the police' really infuriated me. I also noticed the cable in the garage and guessed right that this was the real reason she entered the premises.
My response was, during my lunch break, I lugged out half a ton of debris from my garage (yes, there was still a lot of junk and there still is a lot of junk right now).



I lugged out a massive window frame, a huge board on a metal frame that juts sideways and prevents one from opening the car door, and forces one to walk through the garage sideways when the car is parked inside, and then about a dozen boxes and the second refrigerator, and a cupboard.

I feel justified in doing this in the sense that I am still paying for space filled her with garbage and clutter. Have you ever heard of a person who rents out a room and finds it filled with boxes and junk and this stuff has a right to remain there indefinitely? In most proper rental arrangements (where the property is unfurnished) you inherit a functional space, swept clean, and bare. It's basic stuff.

We also went to the police and we told we couldn't make a statement, a unit would be dispatched to our home to take a statement (the opposite to what we were told last night).

And from here...?

So far we haven't been able to make a statement in terms of what happened to us. I am not particularly confident in the police after the way the Slumlord pulled their strings today. One policemen actually came to my work today and later phoned me giving me advice on when I should move etc. Losing thousands of Rand on a deposit obviously hasn't occurred to him.

The local Caxton's Knock and Drop is the North Eastern Tribune. I'll be contacting them and giving them pictures and the story - a cautionary tale - of how a Slumlord can ruin one's living space.

I've also made these YOUTUBE videos but the response and interest has been quite flat. Perhaps an article in the North Eastern Tribune will direct local attention to this festering pustule I once called home.

Then there is the legal route. While I have no problem taking this route, the problem is the Slumlord has no money. This is the real reason behind everything - why she is incapable of moving the junk (she can't afford a removal truck, and she clings to the belief that someone elses rubbish must be worth something). So I am not sure if there is too much point going to the expense of spending additional money on the legal side when I'm quite sure we'll lose our deposit as it is. I'm open to ideas though.

Johannesburg - what it's like to live in the world's most dangerous city

I was inspired to write about my experience in Johannesburg after reading Doing fyn, really.

The moment I step off the plane at OR Tambo I smell it. The smell of Johannesburg. The smell of smoking taxi tyres, cordite and Nigerians. I breathe deeply — it’s been nearly a year since I’ve been back.

I pick up my rental car and pull out onto the highway, and I’m almost rear-ended by a BMW as punishment for driving at the speed limit in the slow lane.

- and in the Sunday Independent [great newspaper] about Mythic Joburg, a piece by Mary Corrigall.

She writes:

THOSE who never leave Joburg are those who can’t. Cast as a modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah, riddled by crime, corruption and moral decay, why would anyone want to inhabit this treacherous locale? Or such are the popular perceptions of this illustrious African conurbation.

I have noticed that when I leave Johannesburg something very subtle happens. An almost imperceptible heaviness, a tension, lifts. Not quickly. Slowly. As one speeds out of the various arteries to get away from the economic heart of South Africa, the traffic of money, of people, the trafficking of drugs and what not, stay behind you in that African Manhattan - a city that is simultaneously decaying, rotting in the sun, and sending out fresh new shoots.

On the radio today a comedian, an American, was saying she loves her country because she is white and rich. She qualified being 'rich' as having more shit than 'one needs' and not having to share it with anyone. This is part of the attraction to Johannesburg, undoubtedly, the love of money. It's the reason, principally, why I am here too. But the same came said of numerous other cities - from New York to Seoul. What is distinctive - I guess the point we're trying to assess then is specifically, what makes Johannesburg a city worth living in. What's good about it?

Well, for a start, there is the weather, clear and crisp in winter, with skies of startling blue, and soft warm springs giving way to burning summers punctuated by violent African thunderstorms. To walk through the aftermath of such a deluge is amazing. The streets are strewn with mauve flowers knocked off the jacaranda trees. Great clouds of red and pink bougainvillea billow over high garden walls, forming a psychedelic arch over the old stone alley that winds up the ridge behind my house. From the summit, it is as if a pastel mist is drifting across the suburbs.

Two decades of convulsive change notwithstanding, aspects of the sweet white life persist down there - the thwock of balls on tennis courts, the click of woods on bowling greens, the clink of ice in frosted glasses carried on trays by loyal African servants. My little corner of the city remains rather British, with Anglican churches, friendly grocers and a ratepayers' association full of crabby ex-Rhodesians and old Africa hands who rail in vain about unkempt pavements, broken street lamps and other signs of the supposedly inevitable slide into anarchy.

But all is not lost; not yet.

The above comes from an article by Rian Malan in the UK's Telegraph. I guess it goes to show that everyone's experience is different. In the same article I see Rian's typical day in Johannesburg and I doubt I have visited any of those places. I've come close to visiting the rooftop market in Rosebank, but only in lieu of the fact that I work in Rosebank. That said, it's something I feel I want to get round to doing.

For me the beauty of Johannesburg probably has nothing to do with the inhabitants; at best their impact is incidental. I have lived in South Africa all my life and whenever I have come to Johannesburg I've been amazed at how unique the city is in almost every respect, but especially in this: the birds here seem to populate the forested gardens here as a matter of course, but you don't see them anywhere else. You get a combination of birds like the Hadeda ibis and the Grey Loerie who weigh down the branches and seem to move invisibly through the world's largest manmade urban forest. The trees are the other thing. Johannesburg has luxuriant foliage softening the hard lines of suburbia. In spring the purple Jacarandas transform the suburbs into what feels like the aftermath of a giant African wedding (or some other celebration).

It is against this background of luxuriating nature that gleaming BMW's cruise, mustard yellow mine dumps rise, and gleaming tampon towers with rotting innards glitter and scintillate in the bright highveld light over slums no doubt infested with crimes happening and imminent.

I have said this before but one of the things I love about commuting to work is turning on the radio and listening to 94.7. But here we come to my pet hate. The drivers, black and white, taxi and sedan, are some of the most arrogant and stupid I think I have ever encountered anywhere in the world. Maybe the suicidal drivers in Tanzania are worse, but I'm not sure. Where else do people race each other, risking death and damage, simply for the honor of arriving at a traffic light 100 metres away first? Where else do you see a red Ferrari, topless, flaunting some or other celebrity, driving vulnerably beside a barely roadworthy truck covered in construction workers salivating over said celebrity in truck. Salivating in the worst sense of the word - I want to fuck you, take your car, steal your watch and cut your body into little pieces in order to feel better about not having what you don't even appreciate... That's what they're thinking, and both glistening celebrity and criminal plotter pretend otherwise as the traffic queue inches forward.

Johannesburg has some of South Africa's best infrastructure - the biggest and best airport, the finest gyms and stadiums [I've only been to Ellis park, though I've driven around the side of Wanderers] and some of the best cinemas and shopping malls you'll find. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm still putting off mentioning the people here. Very well then ->

Since I grew up in the Free State, in Bloemfontein nogal, I was under the impression that Afrikaners were a very biased and somewhat disagreeable bunch. That is not to say I didn't respect them - I just became increasingly gatvol and disenchanted with their Godsdiens and politiek and een Volk attitude. And I didn't appreciate being dragged into the same kraal or kerk as them based on my surname and geographic co-ordinates. After some time overseas and after a certain amount of political shift (and possibly the more radical Afrikaners not only coming down from their AWB horses but also mkoving from boeremusiek to pop, pulpit to soap opera and generally taking themselves a bit less seriously) I found myself developing a grudging affection for the New Afrikaner. In a world of excess, something can be said for being cautious and conservative after all.

So imagine my surprise when, after a few months in Johannesburg, I discovered a Volkstaat right here. It's called Houghton and Orchards and what not, and the Afrikaners who have their own religion, only interbreed with themselves and have their own language and food and politics are called Jews. They speak English.
I'm surprised by this...this sense of hurt...because I went to a Jewish nursery school and at Advertising School I admired some of my Jewish teammates for their wit and guile and acumen. By I suppose my jaundice started there, where one would brainstorm through the night, and then the endurance contest would start and the game would be called this: "Let's attribute the idea to me (even though it's yours) because at the end of the day it is the person with the idea that gets rewarded (and I want that person to be me whatever the idea and whomever it comes from) and that's all that matters." There were other teams who wanted to be Jewish-only teams. I had never heard of this before and no one seemed to find anything wrong with this except me. But you move on and forget about it until you find yourself...well, here.

It's not bad having them as neighbours; they're certainly not bad neighbours, and they run a tight ship here. The suburbs are relatively crime free for a crime ridden city. The local neighborhood CAP has reduced crime. This despite the fact when I told my insurers where I was living my insurance was immediately trebled. And since then there has been a break-in where I live and my landlady [now slumlord - we'll get to that] beating up, robbed and locked in her safe. Some friends of mine found a burglar skulking in their bedroom a few weeks ago - they live a kilometre up the hill.

So you may say that I've experienced some of that Afrikaner Apartheid here in the suburbs, in the sense that Jewish girls will never marry non-Jewish guys, and may worry if they're seen eating lunch with you. It makes me wonder - the Jews often talk of Anti-Semitism but their faith is based on saying 'We're chosen, we're special, our God is the The One and yours ain't so we can't mix with the likes of you, we'll leave you alone but if we ever have to - God forbid deal with each other - please be nice to us anyway.' In short, we're better than you but we hope you can accept that and not hold a grudge against us (even though we're sort've commanded by God to hold a grudge against you as non-chosen infidel gentiles.)

This article isn't meant to be a focus on Jews at all, but I guess it is more PC to discuss than say the insecurity one feels at intersections, where there are always Africans wanting something. In a city famous for murder, the way one becomes vulnerable to these crimes is so obvious and easy it is laughable. Poor black people brazenly approach one's car and ask for money (while they check the contents of your passenger seat, and your inside pocket). But we won't go there for fear of being branded a Free State rooinek [or Dutchmen, take your pick] racist.

I don't know if it is an indictment of the whole of Johannesburg. I mean, there are other clubs besides, based on which University you went to, whether you take drugs or not. I belong to the clique called 'I ride a bike and lead a healthy lifestyle'. It's a fairly fringe group but there are lots of us, and I have to say I've developed some of the best climbing strength I've ever had by getting myself over the ribs that girdle this great city.
The cycle and triathlon races in Johannesburg are well organised - for the most part - and quite crowded. I've enjoyed this aspect tremendously. Bloemfontein has at best 4 cycle race routes whereas Johannesburg has about 40.

Yes, so I've been quite surprised by how biased and opinionated the people are that I've met here. I thought they'd be more liberal. More open-minded. I've also been surprised by the aggressiveness and spite I've encountered. I guess a lot of people here are under stress just like in a big city anywhere else (just a bit more).

I haven't met my neighbours on two sides of the road. The Americans next door invited me for some biltong and wine, but can they strictly speaking be called South Africans? Across the road is a Jewish couple who are not like many other Jewish couples - they appear to do business at night with Nigerians driving a red golf, and the lady often needs a ride to wherever it is you are going. But it's a nice neighborhood - fortified but pretty, isolating but leafy.

My landlady has gone from living in her house to squatting downstairs (sleeping on a board over a jacuzzi). The lower garden where the swimming pool is now looks like a construction storage site, and my garage looks like a storage hanger for Biddulphs or Elliots. I can barely get my car in and out, let alone myself. My landlady, a one time Lady of Rhodesia, spends her days cleaning the pool, watering potplants and keeping her second hand furniture (deployed outside her one-room sauna space) halfway across the swimming pool patio dry. She is used to ordering people around and not used to doing anything herself. Like cooking. Or work. Or washing up. On weekends she tries to convince one set of tenants that the man of the house is a child molester and wife beater, while on my side she tries to do the same whenever she can get hold of my girlfriend. There is more disgraceful behaviour besides, but my experience of a Johannesburg resident has been principally shaped by this woman.

And obviously my impression of Johannesburg has been colored by my experiences at work - my boss, my colleagues. I won't say much about that though.

What I will say is that having been here for almost two years now it has been an incredible two years brimming with seized opportunities and close calls. In this city I have met the likes of Jim Kunstler, David Bullard and the odd Miss South Africa. I've encountered some ambitious and beautiful young women who have achieved great things in sport and school.
I've seen roads - busy arteries - collapse and then buildings falling onto construction workers. I've watched the rise of new structures over the deserted and presumably bankrupt shells of underground arcades. Well known musicians perform at around-the-corner nightclubs as a matter of course.

I stay at home a lot. You can attribute this to exhaustion, or an attempt to avoid this city's crime and gridlock. Honestly, there is a certain fear - subtle but real - that as soon as you step out your door you're vulnerable to the elements of this city. It can be anything. From a moon crater sized pothole, to a drunk driver, to a Mozambican murderer, to a falling tree branch or a landlady who is losing her nut. And it is this generalised fear that lifts, imperceptibly, when you're not here, and it takes a while to realise why your shoulders are un-tensing, why your breathing is more relaxed, why you're feeling...well...less tired somehow.

Johannesburg has adventure, wilderness - wildness - in it, that makes it an exciting place to be. Yes it is dangerous. Yes, it is the epicentre of crisis upon crisis upon crisis. But if you live long enough it will make a man out of you, and if you're a woman, you'll have the opportunity to make something of yourself. Part of this journey involves the around-the-clock processing of tension. But you can always leave Johannesburg on an expensive holiday (that you may actually be able to afford) to see, from a distance, where you've come from and what you're becoming because of it. You might actually like what you see. Then again, you might not.

Osmond Lange, James Kunstler and Black Ties and Jeans

Earlier this afternoon when I was invited I wasn't completely sure what a 'Black Tie' dinner entailed, and I wasn't too keen on the black tie part either. I'm serious. I even googled it to make sure it didn't absolutely have to involve 'black'. Nevertheless, I gave myself over to the dark side (comforting myself that this was a dress rehearsal for a possible-soon-to-happen wedding - mine!). I drew the line at the tie. No way was I going to wear one of those Jimmy Olson bowties. Well, neither was James Kunstler going to roll over and play penguin - although he looks quite formal here, below the suit he was wearing a pair of jeans.

I was surprised to be at Osmond Lange's function, surprised that they have been designing New Urbanism environments since 1929 (they started up during a Depression, go figure).
So after listening to Kunstler on 702, I emailed him and invited him to dinner. Jim's such a nice guy he even went to the trouble to email me back between his 702 interview and the formal dinner. Also when I finally left the venue (our conversation had been interrupted by the MD nogal) he had the presence of mind to greet me and wish me well.

One funny comment one of the Olsmond Lange architects made, a woman, was: "Oh Jim, your presentations are so realistic!"
Jim says: "Because it's reality."
She says: "But you imbue it with so much!"

I asked Jim two questions during our brief conversations. Firstly I asked him if the Melrose Arch of the future would be built with cabbage patches...and he confirmed what an architect at Table 12 had said to me...that farming and one's living arrangements are difficult to integrate, and there isn't necessarily a point in doing so. I guess my point is that for new projects, projects not necessarily in existence now, I wonder to what extent they will make some concessions to growings things..if any. A vegetable potplant on the balcony?

I know the Koreans, with their sophisitcated economy, grow red peppers on small square plots of land in the months before buildings are erected on this patches of land. Farming comes easy to them since all of them practically we farmers just a generation ago. I think we can learn something from their pragmatic approach. But I get what these guys were saying - Sure we may be growing a few vegetables in suburbia, but serious food production - crops - will always come from farms, and human settlements will tend to be situated somewhere else. I do think we'll be living closer to our source of food in the future (or vice versa) and more and more ordinary people will feel compelled to supplement their groceries with homegrown stuff.

The other question related to our security in South Africa given that our population is licensed to carry guns, our already horrific crime rate, the xenophobia and the levels of intractable poverty - versus the Middle Class mob in America, also gun toting, who may soon be baying for more than mere jail terms for the likes of Madoff and others worthy of their blame... Which is the safer place to be right now?

Have a look at some of the slides James presented below. I'll upload the full list later and give a few additional details.

I met some interesting people at the dinner (including an architect who looked like the actor Brian Cox, responsible for designing the Bus-Rapid Transit sit and someone else who looked like a brunette Kirsten Dunst, well, same mouth) and also had quite a funny experience being seated at 3 different tables, being served two main courses, and it was quite odd chatting to Jim - not only because I diin't even know he was in South Africa until I'd read a 702 Tweet, but he seemed to be suffering from jet-lag, especially at 11pm. I can commiserate. The trip to Seoul is about as far for us as it must be for him to here from New York.

I also met an interesting chap who also did time in South Korea as his father had been a diplomat...or ambassador there? Matt if you're reading this, you might find this clip quite funny - click here. And here's a video from Ilsan.

So yeah, an interesting evening and I'm chuffed that we were even given two of Jim's books. I've read World Made By Hand and The Long Emergency, and got an autographed copy from Jim of The Geography of Nowhere. I'm looking forward to reading it.

Finally, I guess what I found interesting, on a personal note, was to find myself sitting amongst a bunch of architects, listening to a man I'd met basically by almost randomly buying a book in a Korean bookstore. Then I'd googled his name, and found his blog, then we entered into an infrequent correspondence etc... On the architecture side I read Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead and this sowed the seed to become an archtect (since my father was a builder too, and had been responsible for building Bloemfontein's town centre and many other developments).

It occurred to me while sitting there that all these things may yet come to fruition. I mean, staying in tented accomodation at Botlierskop made me consider the possibility of building a walkable, self sustaining community on our farm, using natural materials. But the idea would be to design a very pleasing setting for a small group of families, and connecting these to the orgasnic systems around us. It would not be a village, or suburbia or a farm, but a combination. I'm not suggesting all people should try to live this way, merely that I consider the idea of it an idyllic setting possibly for myself and my own family, and perhaps a group of like minded New Urbanists who would appreciate the peace and calm of a walkable, semi-rural setting.

This is me, today, in Johannesburg, and my heart is on fire...

What is it like to be in Johannesburg right now?

So you're sitting in Cheshire or Canada, or fucking Australia, and you're watching some telecast or reading some damn netcast about violence in South Africa, and you're saying, "Those poor bastards." What is it like to be living and working in Johannesburg, in South Africa, right now?

Well, on the way to work the streets are filled with crowds, throwing eggs at the cars, rolling those over that they can, setting some alight, you just have to drive as quickly as you can, and if you run pedestrians over its just collateral damage. Then you run the gauntlet on the way home. It's a war zone. Columns of smoke climb into the still baby blue sky all day like so many chains, and while you work, you worry: they're out there, waiting for me. Will I die today?

That's probably what people who don't live in South Africa imagine based on what they see in the papers and on CNN. Honestly, I live in Johannesburg and if I didn't read the newspapers, watch TV or surf the net, I would have no clue what was happening in the poor areas of Johannesburg. It's out of sight. For those of us fortunate enough to live in leafy suburbs like Houghton and Melrose Arch, we're a fair way away from all the bloody action. So today was just like any other day, driving to work, having lunch, buy a magazine at the mall, drive back, go to gym, have dinner, watch TV - except the news reports indicate something is up.

And that's really reality in South Africa. The wealthy and the poor live disconnected from each other, with a few exceptions at a few intersections. Commuters see squatters beside some highways. And poor beggars approach people in their cars at some major intersections in the business centre of the city. Some hand out flyers or sell newspapers or sunglasses. Other hold up boards begging for money. Some give, most don't, because a figure beside your window could also be a hijacker. people here are wary of crime, even though the poor are far worse affected than those with electrified perimeter fencing.

And what about the Xenophobia? Is it real? What's the deal? Well I'll tell you, where I live the girl who cleans my place is from Zimbabwe, her husband is too - he works in the garden and helps the landlady...recently helped her build a second car garage...and paints walls...my friend up the road has a security guard from Zimbabwe, and at Pick n Pay the guys who fetch the trolleys are also from Zimbabwe. Why are so many Zimbabweans working like this, where are the South Africans then?

...the Zimbabweans [who] are popular with local employers because many are well educated, speak good English and are seen as working harder than South Africans.

What's also very bizarre and interesting is the best news story I have read, the best assessment I've seen of what's happening, is from a United Kingdom based source, The Guardian. The italicised quote above is from Chris McGreal's article. It's about Johannesburg, it's accurate to a T, but it appeared 10 000km away in England. Here I am in South Africa and the best news I have read I found on the internet at a UK based portal on the other side of the world. At the same time, a lot of traffic is googled towards South Africa in a sort of blind way, based on search criteria like 'Johannesburg' and 'violence'. But Google can just as easily Google you to this story Thousands seek sanctuary as South Africans turn on refugees
and as I say, it's from a UK based publication.

This says a lot about the future and functionality of news. Even local news can be sourced elsewhere, at another site to where it actually happens. It just depends where it is posted to, and with the technology that we have, location becomes irrelevant. Or does it?
The only time location is relevant is when we want constant up to the minute, virtually LIVe on the ground, hands on, feet on the ground ongoing assessments of what is happening. Who fulfills this role? Newspapers? No. Bloggers? Yes. Here's the best blog story I have read on this topic:
This is us. Welcome to South Africa

On my way back from work, I left at about 6pm, I thought I'd head to the Old Eds Gym, which is fairly close to the centre of the city, but still in the wealthier northern suburbs not far from where I live. I thought I'd run for 40 minutes. I get to the gym and the place is packed. About a 1000 cars, the green floodlit fields filled with people playing soccer, and when I walked by the window at the front of the gym, it was obvious that the gym was filled to capacity - every treadmill taken. I turned around and went home, but as I approached my car I saw a sexy blonde girl, very lithe frame, jogging neatly beside me around the soccer pitches, about 3 of them. I glanced at my shorts and iPod in my hand. The evening was a bit chill, but jogging in the open air around these fields might not be such a bad idea the next time I come here and all the treadmills are taken. The fact that I only had shorts, and the temperatures were around 18 made me decide to throw in the towel.

Driving out of the parking lot I wondered: Are these people aware or even affected by the violence and bloodshed happening probably about 20-50km away in the townships? They have their jobs, their TV dinners, and television waiting for them around the corner. They're focused on getting fit and looking good. That's where their minds are. How good do I look? They're ambitious,wealthy, hard working and driven. They also don't want to be bothered by 'negativity'. That's South Africa, schizophrenic, bad, ugly, but also good.

How can you get an on the ground assessment of what it's like to be in Johannesburg right now. You look at blogs like this one. And the news you can get anywhere else, and eventually you'll learn to trust certain sites for specific content, and you'll discover some sites just tend to have better content than others. In the UK it's The Guardian and the Telegraph, in the US it's the New York Times and Washington Post, sometimes MSNBC and Time.com. WIRED has good stuff. A blogs are a matter of personal preference, who you know, where they are, and your sense of connection to them and their community.

SAfrica violence 'forces 13,000 to flee homes'
Above image courtesy John Hrusa/EPA