Jozi my sweerry!

Smelly gold urine fills the Jozi streets while both young and old ambitious
Zimbabweans fry up some new russians in old oil,the sound of Mozambiquean women begging,no,
forcing u to come braid ure already braided hair,with a promise to undo what you thought was
still beautiful.Oh Jozi the sounds u make never stop.You always have something to complain,
sing or dance about. Indian Nigerian and Chinese shop owners play the latest and loudest
house and Hip-hop tracks in an attempt to make u buy their cheap clothes on cheap manacanes.
Taxi drivers sitting with their taxi divas are constantly hooting. Hooting to greet a friend.
Hooting to ask for change from each other. Hooting to get a young womans attention.
Hooting because they can. Hooting because it's Jozi. Their Jozi. Far and wide. Alex,Kagiso,
Soweto,Sebokeng,Diepsloot,Sandton,Cresta,we all lead to you.Jozi. I used to love u as a child.
I had a huge crush on you.You were the setting of many of my fantasies as a pikinini.
You were the venue in many of my childhood stories in my head. I imagined golden streets,
bright lights,the good life.
Song ,dance happiness belonged in Jozi. It was proudly made in Jozi. Oh Jozi how I loved you.


I get here and the first thing you taught me as a child was how to swear,hold my bag closer
to me when I walk in your streets,you taught me how to say 'I don't have a phone' in all the
official languages. Your noise .Crime. Corruption. Speed. Greed.
Lust and disease makes me appreciate my own home even more! For that Jozi I love you!