Walking along the pavements of downtown Joburg. One becomes accustomed to the sights and smells of a raw kind of consumer circus. Everywhere, flash drives, belts and wigs are constantly being hawked and one’s journey becomes an adventure into the pop consciousness of the urban CBD. A signature of the abundant inexpensive clothing and general dealerships that line the streets is the music that blares out of each shop. Seeming to be in constant competition with one another for the attention of the public, an overwhelming plethora of sounds engage in a public battle for dominance, our ears becoming casualties.
Along President street this is no less true, although not as deafening as the dicso streets of Small street, the presence of music is a definitive characteristic. Here however, music becomes more than a marketing ploy, to the careful listener it is a peep into ethic identities and history. One will hear harmonious Nigerian gospel choirs or the latest Ethiopian pop. Macdonald Anokwute owns a clothing outlet on President street, situated directly opposite The Hub, On any given day one is likely to hear music that reflects his story. The sounds of ‘Chief Osita Osadebe’, a popular Nigerian “traditional local” musician or the gospel of ‘Amaka Okwuocha’. Anokwute is a cheerful middle-aged Nigerian immigrant who has been living in South Africa since 1998. Trained in his country as an accountant, he was unable to ‘’seek employment’’ because of the refugee status of his immigrant papers, and began working for a one of his fellow countrymen in a clothing shop.
Macdonald is eager to talk, his eyes glisten, finding an attentive audience in me;
“We use the ‘4 hanger strategy’ ” he explains. This is a system meant to encourage self sustenence in which an employer allocates a section of a shop, for example a column of hung up clothes, to an employee, making that employee responsible for the sales of that column. This trust is then built until the employee is able to branch out and open his own business, again with the help of the employer mentor. Having done so, that former employee is able to then do the same to another. It is how, by the year 2004, Macdonald was able to open his second clothing shop in town, and it is how, he assures me, the Nigerian community supports itself.
We speak about xenophobic sentiments rife amongst some locals. It is a strange and uneasy mental process fuelled by economic frustrations and pride that drives this animosity. A sensitive topic, I casually suggest that perhaps the Nigerians begin practicing the ‘4 hanger strategy’ with South Africans. He chortles, “we will, and are… but a trust and understanding of our different cultures needs to be established. That is why you see many Nigerians marrying South Africans”. It would seem however, that although the languages and mannerisms differ, our two cultures share some similarities; such as what He refers to as a ‘traditional insurance system’. Seeing the blank expression on my face, Anokwute gives a hearty laugh; “The youth of South Africa are too reliant upon western monetary systems and ways of thinking to help themselves”. The ‘traditional insurance system’ works in this way; it begins with a group of working people who each take a percentage of their salary every month and collect it. The total sum of which goes to a different participant each month, helping each one out with impending debts or other needs. This practice is well known in urban South Africa, it is called ‘stokvel’.
“oh!”.
“Exactly!” Macdonald exclaims, “But we don’t see your young people engaging in this practice”.
As a father and head of a household (he is married with child, to a South African) Macdonald holds views on many societal issues. He detests the prostitutes that linger on street corners; “they bring crime!”. Is critical of the Jozi Fashion Kapitol Precinct; “It is bad for our business, it is always empty”, and the Hub itself; “You should hand out Hub pamphlet calenders so that we can get to know about your organisation and the services you offer.”. We refocus and talk about music. In the late nineties, in store music would be played softly without a care for the tastes of customers. “We knew that the city likes music” Anokwute explains, and so shop-owners like Anokwute began playing local music, loudly. They found that this drew people inside; “Some would even start dancing in the shop!”. He recalls a particular incident; One day, a man walked into his shop, introducing himself as a music producer, he gave Anokwute the material of one of his artists. Thinking nothing of it, Anokwute would play it and found the music to be popular amongst customers.
Some time later, a fancy sedan parked outside of his shop, the mysterious male driver of the sedan came inside and browsed the clothes, he then went up to Anokwute and casually asked him about the music playing. Anokwute confidently told him the artists’ name. “He asked me, that ‘if i were to see the artist, would i recognise him?’ I replied ‘no’. He then said, ‘well, the music that you are playing is mine.”. This is how, Anokwute cheerfully tells me, he unknowingly helped promote the music of SAMA award winning Shwi, a revered traditional isizulu musician.
The sounds of the city carry with them stories of financial hardship, ringing bells of untapped economic opportunities and the harmonies of adapted microeconomic support systems. If one but listens intently.
Hub Johannesburg 