Emmanuel (Part 5)

In January 2004 the lone Emmanuel alighted from an inter-city bus at the Rotunda, Park Station, Johannesburg. With his meagre belongings he cut a forlorn figure as he made his way to the still beautifully manicured gardens that were at that time being well maintained. Park Station had stood out as a neat complex bordered by Rissik and Wolmarans Streets since it had been bought (expropriated) by the then South African Railways from the Wanderers Club. Along Wolmarans Street was a busy minibus taxi rank where he made enquiries about the best options for him to secure accommodation in the city and try his luck at getting employment. The consensus among the strangers he approached for directions was that he should make his way to the Alexandra Township.

Emmanuel boarded a taxi that was heading towards Alexandra. It was his first experience of commuting in a Jo’burg taxi – one that would live with him as one of the most hair-raising trips he had ever encountered. The minibus had been well used to ferry passengers across the sprawling city. He caught a glimpse of the front tyre as he was bundled in through the sliding door and cajoled into a space somewhere in the middle of the vehicle. The tyre was completely bald and there was a spot showing signs of the inner core of its steel belt escaping through the rubber.

Once seated, the taxi didn’t move as expected. Indeed, another wave of passengers made their ingress. Already full, it now rapidly became overloaded. The body shapes somehow knitted together like Jenga blocks and everyone found a nook where they could access just enough air to sustain breath until they would eventually disgorge in Alex. Emmanuel noted the cosmopolitan nature of the crowd of passengers – all shapes and sizes, a conglomeration of indigenous languages, vastly different approaches to personal hygiene making for a sickening malodorousness. Yet, all appeared to dutifully comply with the seamless system in place for passengers – fares exchanged hands and change was dispensed in apparent harmony. The correct fare was clearly preferred by the driver’s assistant, gauging from the muttering that accompanied the disbursement of change.

The taxi jolted into gear and away they went at breakneck speed. Emmanuel was gripped by fear as this unguided missile on Johannesburg’s roads made its way to Alex. A hand proffered from the driver’s window cleared a path in the traffic for lanes to be changed, willy-nilly. Other road users indicated expletives in sign language to which the driver paid scant regard. Red traffic lights ranked as mere suggestions as they jumped robots (a South Africanism for traffic lights) with gay abandon. It was with much relief that he emerged from the belly of the taxi in Alex. It would also be only the first of many equally adventurous trips he would take in the months and years to come.

In Alex he found accommodation with relative ease in the backyard of a shack. He was willing to pay the exorbitant rent and the shack owner was happy to relieve him of any cash he had on hand. 

Jobs, he soon discovered, were hard to come by in this city that had held such promise in his exaggerated expectation of a fresh new start in life. In his quest for employment he encountered his first brush with South African township xenophobia. Not only was he sent packing by those he approached for jobs, but the entire population of Alex suddenly became competitors in this cut-throat race to earn a living. On more than one occasion he came face to face with the ugly reality of desperation. In the arduous search for money to feed a family, the nasty side of human nature showed itself – foreigners were not welcome on this already uneven economic playing field. He escaped unscathed by beating a hasty retreat in the face of assault or worse.

His landlord, presumably because he had a dog in this fight to ensure he got paid the rent owed, directed Emmanuel towards the lower economic rung of employment – “car guarding” at shopping centres. This was a stepping stone that Emmanuel was willing to attempt. He found that it was also a “dog eat dog” enterprise and that exploitation lurked around every corner. Fortunately he still had sufficient funds from employment elsewhere along his journey to pay the fees required to start this unglamorous job. At a parking lot in Randburg he was able to rent a zone to ply his people skills and extract from shoppers the best tips possible. He was required not only to rent his space, but purchase a uniform and share a cut out of his takings each day with the complex management.

Emmanuel’s affable nature endeared him to the shoppers. He found it easy to strike up conversations with the customers whom he assisted with unloading and loading shopping trolleys and car boots. It was a constant battle to ensure that the trolley management fellows didn’t sneakily crook him out of his tips as they posed as willing helping hands. They didn’t always stay in their lane and collect abandoned trolleys to be returned to the supermarkets. Often they encroached on the “jobs” of car guards and their role as a customer service.

Nevertheless, it was in this competitive environment that Emmanuel got his big break in life. He was fortunate enough to have encountered a family that frequented that Randburg mall who befriended him. He soon struck up such a good relationship with them that he often became a dinner guest, hence the unfolding of his story of escape from Liberia and trek down the length of Africa to the City of Gold. The chance meeting resulted in him being offered better paying employment, an opportunity to further his education and that fine family facilitating a visit to his homeland when the civil wars eventually ceased. They became eager participants in his search for remnants of his own family who might have also made it out of Liberia alive.

[This is the last part of Emmanuel’s story for the moment. At a later stage the intriguing story of his quest to find his family will be taken up again. At this stage the part of his story after 2005 is still sketchy and will be revealed when the outcome is clear.]