African Odyssey: Report 1

June 15th, 2010

Johannesburg, South Africa, it turns out, is very similar to how you might see it portrayed in the movie Tsotsi. A large, sprawling town not entirely different from Houston, Texas, with some added hills and less vegetation. Perhaps like a less glamourous LA. At any rate, it is a car city. It takes 45 minutes of driving on highways and major roads to get from the airport to almost any destination - at a distance of over 10 miles. Shopping streets and districts are scarce, with indoor shopping malls preferred for security reasons.

The neighborhoods are nice - with trees, greenery, and avenues easy for driving. However, one thing is very different from Houston or LA. Growing up in Houston, our family never locked our door when home. If we went out of town, we would lock the front door, but leave the side door open. Any theif wishing entry had only to brave our german shepard dog, Ziggy.

However, in Johannesburg, things are different. To gain entry into my friend Chris's house, you have to pass through a minimum of 4 separate locked doors. First, there is the gate. Then, inside the gate, 4 feet later, a heavy, thick wood security door. This gets you into the courtyard. Once there, you now have another metal gated door, which gets you to the actual door to the home. 4 different keys to get you into the living room. And this is in a nice neighborhood. If Chris were to get scared on night, he could also lock the gate and door with access to the sleeping quarters of the house, and then additionally lock the gate and door with access to the master bedroom. The master of the house, therefore, would be separated by 8 keys and locks from the street. Oh, and there also is a secutiry system who advertised prominently on the door "Armed Response Guaranteed."

While the locks provide security, they also make leaving the house a lengthy proposition. Going to the corner store? Add 5 minutes for leaving the house unlocking and locking, as well as 5 minutes for getting back in. As safe as this makes one feel, it also makes one feel quite isolated from whatever may be going on outside.

However, this caution seems merited. On my first night out in Johannesburg, at the Fifa Opening Concert featuring Shakira, I had my new South African cell phone promptly stolen out of my pocket. The next night, a friend had her purse stolen while at a bar. And two days later, in today's paper, a twelve year old who writes a weekly World Cup article mentioned that while at his first World Cup match with his father, his father's cell phone was stolen! It appears I am not the only one with the problem!

This episode infuriated me because in a lifetime of traveling the world, I had maintained a perfect record of never being stolen from. I did, however, manage to catch the thief red handed, but only after he had managed to pass my phone to a friend. This led to an intersting episode in the Orlando Pirates Stadium Police Office, where racial relations were obvious and strained (more on this in future episodes). While a fascinating cultural experience, I somehow think I would have enjoyed watching Shakira's hips lie than talk to a police officer whose "Trainee" badge did not inspire confidence in me.

South Africans, when told of the episode, all replied in the same way: only a foreginer would bother reporting such a routine incident to the police.

Matthew-