Earlier this month, I saw a man lying face down on the corner of Claim and Sophie De Bruyn streets in downtown Johannesburg. He had been killed right next to the taxi rank and police had secured the crime scene by the time I arrived.
I asked around as to what had happened to him. No-one was willing to speak. Little did I know that less than 100 metres from where that man died, I was going to lie helplessly a few days later. The only difference is that I would be lucky enough to live to tell the story.
It was between 6pm and 6.30pm on March 2 as I was walking along Claim Street heading home after work. It was quite a bright day and darkness had not fallen on the city. Just as I reached the corner of Claim and Bok streets, I was attacked by a group of men. I never got to see their faces.
The first thing I felt was a strong arm hitting me hard on my neck. I had no time to react. As I felt the contact, I knew very well I was being robbed because I have seen videos of people being robbed in similar fashion in the Johannesburg inner city. My last recollection was trying to throw my bag to women who were in a salon not far from me. I thought maybe these thugs would search me and miss my bag.
I then passed out. The strangulation on my throat was so tight it stopped oxygen from going to my brain. I cannot tell you how long I stayed unconscious on the ground. I estimate maybe one or two minutes.
When I woke up, I was on my back on the side of the road. People were walking past as if I was not there. That remains the most traumatic thing I have ever experienced.
I stood up, looked around and realised, “damn, I had been robbed.” They took my laptop, cellphone, wallet and other equipment I use for my work such as notebooks.
I then walked slowly to the women in the salon to whom I was trying to throw my bag.
“Your plan almost worked. They did not see the bag in the beginning. They were actually leaving, but one of them remembered that you were carrying a bag and came and took it. I’m so sorry about what happened to you. No-one should be treated like this,” said a woman who was at the entrance of the salon.
We are scared. These Zimbabwean boys are armed. If we intervene, they can come and deal with us. They have been robbing people here for years. Today [on Thursday] you are the third person to fall victim to their gang.
— A woman at a nearby salon
She then reached out to her purse, pulled out a R50 note and gave it to me. She obviously knew I did not have money to go home.
I sat there, trying to gather my thoughts before heading home. I think I spent about 40 minutes calming myself down while thoughts flooded my mind. Anger and fear were all over me.
As I sat at the entrance of that salon, I looked around to see if there were any cameras nearby which could have captured the incident. I saw none.
A teenage girl in sangoma attire came to me and gave me a R20 note. She could see I had a R50 in my hand but still gave me her money.
“Are you OK?” she asked in a soft voice. The girl went away shaking her head in disbelief.
My physical strength came back and I went to a student accommodation across the street because it had cameras at the entrance. Security guards there told me their cameras would not be able to capture what happened to me as it was far. They then showed me a municipal camera right at the corner of the intersection.
I returned to the salon. I asked the people in the salon how things could have got this bad in their neighbourhood.
“We are scared. These Zimbabwean boys are armed. If we intervene, they can come and deal with us. They have been robbing people here for years. Today [on Thursday] you are the third person to fall victim to their gang.
“These attacks have affected our businesses. People are scared of coming here. We wish that someone can come and just kill all of them,” said one of the women in the salon.
As I sat there chatting to the woman, the teenage girl returned to check up on me again. She seemed traumatised by what she had seen. I was just a mess.
The girl checked up on me at least three times while I was sitting there. After gaining my strength, I left and went home.
As soon as I arrived, my wife immediately tried to call the bank to cancel my bank cards, but it was too late, the robbers had cleaned out every cent in my account.
Physically, I struggled to swallow food because of the attack. I have lived on medicine to cope with the pain in my neck and the headaches that have continued for days.
It is easy to write about crime. It is normal to tweet the video once you’ve seen it, but to experience it is something else.
I hope and pray that authorities do something about the level of crime and decay in the Johannesburg CBD. No one should ever go through what I went through.
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