It is the year 2009, and as I pass the street vendor by the corner of Schoeman (now Frances Baard) and Du Toit, I decide to buy a packet of R1 beef chips. Rephrasing would show it was more of a subconscious purchase than a decision. For years, I’ve used the same route towards Sunnyside and pretty much done the same things from Monday to Friday, January to December, for the duration of the school calendar.
Six years later, I am living in a different town. On my arrival for my visit to my parents home, my ride from Pretoria Station (Bosman) informs me of an urgent meeting they are attending before driving me home. I then asked to be dropped off by my trusted barber. For weeks, I’ve struggled to pin out a day I’ll get a chance from my time here to come and get a fade and cut while my barber relates his last trip back home in Ghana. Coincidence? This urgent meeting is a blessing in disguise.
Now with a clean cut, I sent a text to my ride saying they would find me in Sunnyside by our old family flat. Before you knew it, I was taking the same route I used back in my school years, and it brought some nostalgia.
My trip to Sunnyside begins at Church Square, then in the centre of the park next to the statue guard, where the popular Crazy Entertainers, Senzeni and Pastor Modiri, will be performing gags and stand-up comedy for the passing crowd. This meant half an hour of my time was consumed here. Today, there’s a fence around the statue guard; I’m told it is there to bar “opportunists” who will use the call for Oom Paul (the statue of former Prime Minister Paul Kruger) to be removed as motivation to vandalise it. As for the rest of the park, everything else except people feeding doves is still the same.
The trip continues via Church Street (now Stanza Bopape). “Sa mafele sa makgotlo,” a vendor chants just in front of Shoprite. I then looked around to spot them, but then it clicked: almost all the vendors around here used to and are still selling the same products: bags, sneakers, fruits, toys, cosmetics, insect chemicals, and so on. As I crossed Van Der Walt Street, I was greeted by hair terrorists on the other side, who, even with my new, fresh cut, attempted to convince me to let them cut my hair. Just like most people, I rub off their attention.
“R2 Juice, Cool Time ka mo.. boys,” I thought to myself when I heard the dapper-dressed vendor call out on the side of Sammy Marks Square. Just across the paved road is the South African State Theatre grounds; here a number of artistic careers began and some of the number-one dance groups were born. Every Friday, pupils from different parts of the capital gathered on these grounds for rap cyphers and dance battles. My fondest memory is of Tumi Molekwane taking time out to join a cypher. I had hoped for the younger generation to experience this space like mine did, but unfortunately, the construction of the 1956 women’s memorial building demolished that wish.
Pitori, legae la ka, my heart was finally home, even with all the cosmetic changes.