Behind the Wall

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood

"A visit to Johannesburg? Are you out of your mind? It is possibly the most dangerous city in the world besides Baghdad. I just got back from Durban, and was told by residents of Johannesburg that when our plane stopped there en route, under no circumstances were we to venture beyond the airport...it is irresponsible to blithely suggest Johannesburg as a tourist destination."

--New York Times, letter to the editor, June 30, 2006

So, uh, hello from Johannesburg! You'll all be glad to know that, despite the dire warning of Ms. Dorrie Fletcher of Newnan, Georgia in 2006, I've been here three days and I'm not dead yet. I have crossed the street, I have driven from the airport to my hotel and around Jo'Burg, I have seen townships and stopped at traffic lights (amusingly called "robots," beep boop boop) and I'm still here. And I'm completely fascinated by this city, which is the mother of all case studies on race, class and urban sociology. I've never seen anything like it.

Let's start with the walls. Johannesburg is a city of walls. Walls around homes, around shopping centers, around other walls. I've seen more razor wire and security on this trip than I've seen around most minimum security prisons. Seriously, if I were in one of these houses and peeked over the wall, I'd expect to see no less than 50 zombies trying to get in, like something out of I Am Legend. But what's really outside the walls? Silence. Nothingness. Street after street of sidewalks with no one walking, except the occasional African domestic worker on the way to a job. These are neighborhoods without neighbors. It's creepy, a whole city in hiding.

But of course there are people in Johannesburg. You know where they all are? At the mall. The mall is the neighborhood in Jo'burg. People do all of their eating, drinking and socializing in contained, sterile enclaves protected by armed guards. I am staying in a lovely hotel. It is on a lovely brick courtyard with some lovely bars and restaurants across the way. It is quite idyllic. But it is also a big fakefest, like Main Street USA at Disneyland. It bears no small resemblance to...Broomfield. But imagine Broomfield if the entire city of Denver hung out there and nowhere else. If it were the epicenter of social activity for every man, woman and child. Ready to kill yourself yet? That's what I thought.

As delightful as this mall is, it's still a mall. So I, along with my video producer, Ty, have been pushing the boundaries of the security booth each day, trying to get to the other side of the wall to see what the fuss is about. Yesterday, we headed down to Soweto (the un-mall). Today, we went to the city flea market, which is also in a mall but it's in the parking lot of the mall so I feel like we are branching out. (Scores: a Kaiser Chiefs t-shirt for my son and an awesome Johannesburg Bridge Club ashtray for those special smokers in my life.) We both suspect that a lot of the fear and paranoia that prompts people to build these walls is caused by the walls themselves, and the REAL wall was constructed out of years of hostility and oppression and xenophobia. A hundred years of racism and mistrust takes a long time to dismantle.

But what is the truth? Is Johannesburg any more dangerous to the average person on the street (or behind the wall) than Detroit or West Oakland? While caution is certainly prudent, as it is in any large city, is the razor wire really necessary? On the one hand, based on the people I've met, I'm skeptical. On the other, as a person with a family waiting for me at home, I'm not sure I'm ready to completely test that theory and wander the streets of downtown. So I've been listening to the word on the ground, from bellmen and backpackers and other people who really have a sense, feeling out what's okay to explore and what truly falls under the category of Don't Go There.

What are we finding? A lot of kindhearted people with beautiful smiles. A lot of generous South Africans who invite us to call them and offer to show us the way around this vibrant country. A lot of kids who love to hug. Maybe the World Cup next year will be the catalyst that will get people out of the malls and onto the streets and talking to each other. I hope so. Because it's too quiet here.