However, I was soon whisked away from the Florence Clinic to our home in Fairland, which is probably why my earliest memories of Joburg is water sizzling on hot slasto, a view of Northcliff, and storm clouds billowing over the ridge.
“Town” was another world; a world that winked at me from behind the imposing cliff. I knew it through the stories of my mother and grandparents, and through annual visits to see the Christmas lights.
Somewhere in between city and suburbia, I forged a lasting bond with this city. I wanted to know, love it, explore it.
And then the family packed up and moved to a small town on the Eastern Cape coast, and I found myself a stranger in a strange land.
Joburg became a place of pilgrimage, but so far apart were the visits, I recognised less and less on each journey. I found whole suburbs with houses and people and dogs and cats and gardens where there were none before.
After 18 years, I found myself back in Johannesburg, via Kwa Zulu Natal and England, once more a stranger in a strange land, but my love for this city burning stronger than ever.
I realised that, while development rages on, what makes Joburg Joburg isn’t up for tampering with.
We’re a feisty bunch, and we like our shiny stuff. But we’re a people of tremendous heart, great spirit, incandescent creativity, and unfathomable potential.
We’re living in exciting times, you and I. A new city culture is emerging, and we’re right in the thick of it.
My name is Graeme Shackleford, and I hope you’ll join me in discovering and rediscovering the City of Gold.
