Finding Tshepo, at Victoria Yards
When I remember my grandmother I think of all the random life stories she used to share with us & one of my biggest regrets in this life is not recording them. She once told me about a disease called 3 Dag, loosely translated from Afrikaans, it means Three Days. That was the amount of time you had to live if you were infected and if you survived… you lived to tell the tale. Looking back, I think she was alluding to the 1918 influenza pandemic & had she been born a decade earlier, maybe you wouldn’t be reading this. It’s crazy to think that the flu I’ve been battling over the last few days claimed so many lives a little over a century ago.
It’s often said that history repeats itself, little did we know that in 2020 we would be battling our modern day rendition day of Three Dag. When that traveller arrived at O.R. Tambo International Airport from Italy on the 1st of March, life was never the same. First toilet paper became a commodity, then social distancing was instituted, then we lost the hugs, then we had to stay home, then we lost dancing, then marriages grew stronger (or dissolved), then cities found their echo, then Zoom became the most sought-after venue for celebrations and funerals, then we brewed our own Savannah, then everybody was hiking.
If you smoked, how much did you pay for a cigarette during lockdown? It was during this surreal era when I first heard about Victoria Yards. The first lockdown bled into the second and it was clear that wearing a mask would be like washing your hands with soap for 20 seconds. I don't know about you, but I was curating a collection of masks, 2 for every day of the week to match a wedding outfit and maybe a funeral outfit. It was while swiping through the social streets, that I came across masks created by Tshepo Jeans. Yes, they were made out of denim & yes, I also didn’t know how I was going to breathe but I wanted that mask. Eventually, Lockdown restrictions were eased but I never owned a mask made by Tshepo Jeans.
The first time I saw Victoria Yards was at the end of my drive to the Nando’s head office. I was invited to a job interview and the drive to Lorentzville, left me wondering if I would actually sign the contract, if that “we are pleased to” email emerged in my inbox. Negotiating traffic from Witkoppen Road, then joining the M1 South, taking an offramp at Houghton Drive, then driving through Berea, Hilbrow, Doornfontein and then parking at Lorentzville. Honestly, I couldn’t fathom embarking on that journey everyday, 5 days a week.
The first time I visited Victoria Yards was after the question arose, Where should we go next? It was my first time visiting the Northcliff Koppie and honestly, once you have surveyed Johannesburg like a bird. There really isn’t much to do except trying to catch the crows, which seem to be flying way too low. Clever employees know that taking leave on the Friday after a public holiday gives you a long weekend. The streets were somewhat empty and the journey from Northcliff to the CBD was somewhat smooth, driving over the double decker M1 South. It’s crazy to think that the day before, the road was closed for thousands of runners, many of whom running their first road race ever. When driving in the Joburg CBD, you need to be sure that you didn’t buy your drivers licence, every metre commands vigilence. The streets of Lorentzville are derelict, but the head office of Nando’s is still standing its ground. If it wasn’t for the heritage, another company would have left the area like the many that have migrated from the city to the North.
Take the corner and you will find the parking at Victoria Yards, I think it is an old warehouse & when you step into Victoria Yards, you will be greeted by plants and boards of different stores renting space. I was overcome by an eerie sense of calm, I guess we showed up on a slow day. Have you ever watched House of Wax, that movie featuring Paris Hilton? That’s how it felt and being the black cast members in this film, we were not going to survive until the closing credits. A lot of the shops were closed and some spaces were empty but in me, I just wanted to see the TSHEPO Jeans shop. Firstly because Tshepo was the name of my cousin who passed away on the 29th of Feburary 2024, I never imagined he would leave us so soon, at 34 and secondly, remember that mask I didn’t get during Covid-19?
I didn’t think the place would be such a maze… I’ve been a Joburger since 2011 and I’ve grown with the city. I have seen many of these ventures blossom, I think they are called urban regeneration precincts but I think of them as “islands in the City”, islands of forgetting. Think about Braamfontein Juta Street & the Neighbourgoods market, Maboneng when Poolside was still open and 1Fox, if you ever visited. These islands were known to have a market that operated once or twice a week, attracting adventurers from the suburbs. They would tell their colleagues they visited town over the weekend and what a lovely place it was. When actually, they were cocooned in a small world away from the reality outside. These places exhaled their sprit when the adventurers went home.
On this island, I was enveloped by a sense of calm, I forgot that I was in the belly of Jozi Maboneng. Scattered across the yard, you will find a deli, some food stalls, a bar, art galleries, a variety flowers and plants at war with concrete, vegetables which I assume when harvested, feed the surrounding community, Mantsho by Paleso Mokubung, TSHEPO Jeans & other clothing designer shops. A photography studio, an aftercare centre and the Jukskei River even flows through the Yards, the same Jukskei River that flows through Heronbridge college, I always thought my child would attend this school, I’m not so sure anymore. A mixed use space, thats what its called ne? liked this space though. I could see myself running a business here, I just don’t know what service or product I would be offering. We visited on a Friday and next time, I need to visit on a weekend when there are more people, so I can feel its soul when there is less of an echo. In future, I will attend one of the events they regularly host. I wonder if I will feel like a sardine, like I did on Saturday mornings at the Neighhbourgoods market after Braamfie Runners.
As soon as you drive out, the reality of the city hits you. Inside the yards, you can forget, but exit the island and you are reminded that you are still within eGOli. On the way home we passed a mural on Viljoen street and I couldn’t help but take a picture because I really don’t know when I’ll be in the area again. Nando’s never got back to me after my interview and we are not city people anymore.
An essay by Atlegang Mosimanekgosi