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Johannesburg is a strange city. A friend of mine, who comes from another South African city, often remarks on the way that Joburg seems to be made up of a strange patchwork of urban and suburban areas that makes no sense in terms of town planning. An industrial area may be surrounded by either residential or commercial areas. Business and commercial areas appear out of nowhere and, every now and then, an affluent residential area sort of sneaks up and roosts in the middle of it all.

One of Johannesburgs stranger occurrences is the township. These were segregated areas where black residents of the city were allowed to live back in the days of Apartheid and, to this day, they are still the province of the countrys majority. No whites (or at least incredibly few) call a township home, and these places have become bastions of a bastardized Afro-European culture that has become the norm for large sections of the black population. African custom and European culture clashes here, gets all mixed up in the big boiling pot of humanity and (with a large seasoning of American culture for flavour) is brewed into the lifestyle of the average black South African. They are, to many white citizens of the country, alien places.

I said that no whites call townships their home but, once upon a time, I came close. It was a long time ago, in a place called Alexandra.

Nestled hard up against the affluent commercial and residential zones of the Sandton area of Johannesburg in the eastern part of the mammoth city, Alexandra is, to some, a blot on the landscape. Old, decrepit housing and corrugated iron shacks line the filthy Jukskei river on the western bank, while government sponsored low cost housing lines the Eastern bank. On one side, away from Sandton, a busy highway stretches through quasi-industrial and undeveloped areas. A vast number of people call this river valley their home and their place of work. And many people fear its reputation.

Alexandra has always been considered a violent place by whites and blacks alike. A case recently decided in Johannesburgs magistrate court sent a man to jail for life for the brutal rape of a six year old girl, for example, but Alexandra has calmed down to some degree. In years past it was a political hot spot, with opposing parties meeting in often violent demonstrations of their misunderstanding of South Africas fledgling democracy. Thats where I come into the picture.

The year was 1991. The ANC and IFP, two strongly opposed political parties with black leadership, were gearing up for the inevitable changes that would come about in 1994 (with the election of Nelson Mandela as president.) All over Johannesburg, township violence flared as ANC and IFP supporters voiced their political views. The situation was getting incredibly tense and, in an effort to try and subdue some of the violence, the South African Defence Force was sent into the townships. Their role was largely a peace keeping one the military took a back seat, offering support to the police and assisting in bringing stability to the townships. Theoretically, their mere presence should have been enough to calm the situation down. In Alexandra, this actually worked to a large degree. Unlike places like Thokoza, the military was well received in Alexandra, and their presence helped bring an uneasy calm to the township. This is not to say that violent episodes did not take place because they did, but they were far fewer than before.

I had finished my secondary schooling in 1990 and, as was the case with many young men back then, I went from school straight into military service. This was not my choice, mind you. Every white male (barring mental illness or physical disability) that had completed schooling was expected to perform military service. Just the year before the period of service had been reduced from two years to one but the jail time for refusing to perform military service was still six years. Not wishing to add an extended stay in a penitentiary to my list of life experiences, military service it was. I was drafted as a medic, and after completing basic training, was sent to the Witwatersrand Medical Command, the unit that covered Johannesburg and surrounding areas.

I was a good soldier. I excelled. I got awards and decorations and commendations. The result was, of course, that I ended up with the worst of duties. When the military was sent into Alexandra and the other townships, there I was, at the top of the list of candidates for duty in these areas. Yes, there I was a scared eighteen year old boy with three months training and a couple of civilian first aid and paramedic certificates under my belt, being sent into a place that I knew almost nothing about. See, white folks just didnt go to Alexandra. It was, as I said before, a violent place and animosity towards whites was rife. Add to that the bucket loads of gossip and rumours spread about the place, and you will see my fear was well justified. I had no idea what to expect and, judging by the first few nights I spent there, I didnt think I was going to make it out alive. I barely slept those first few nights. All around the sound of gunfire reverberated through the night as politics were discussed and I could only comfort myself in the knowledge that I was sleeping in an armour plated vehicle, and that my assault rifle was nearby.

I am not going to regale you with tons of thirteen year old army stories. Nothing could be more boring. Lets just say that there were a great many interesting times. But I did learn one thing about Alexandra in the time that I resided there inside that sixteen ton armour plated military ambulance. Its a town full of people ordinary people who were facing an extraordinary change in their lives. While Alexandra was and is still a dangerous place, it is not a den of thieves. There are elements in every society that are dangerous, particularly when circumstances are against them. The thing that made the greatest impression on me, though, was how many people treated me, a white boy with a gun wearing the military uniform of a government they had struggled against for so long, as a friend.

Alexandra, just the other day

The other day I passed Alexandra in my travels. I stopped at the side of the road, and took a photograph. I am not sure why. I cannot say that I fell in love with Alexandra, because I didnt. I cannot say that I miss it, because I dont. I cannot say that I long to return there, because I never will. I guess it just comes down to one fact; I went into that place, into the filth and squalor, into the poverty and hardship, a terrified boy and I came out a little more of a man. I will always owe that to Alexandra it taught me more about myself and other human beings than any affluent suburb ever could.