Fresh from an adventure into the Johannesburg’s underworld governed by drug, sex, murder and other anti-social activities, SEUN AKIOYE writes on how many Nigerians live in a part of the South African city
He wanted to be known simply as IK. He looked at the undercover reporter and said in a tone that conveyed no emotions: “Do you want to make money? Can you hustle on the streets? Are you man enough to survive on this street like these other boys?”
IK and the reporter were standing at a corner in the crowded Quartz Street in Hillbrow, Johannesburg on the evening of October 29, 2013. He had just resumed for work on the streets and had been introduced to the reporter as a new prospect who was willing to make out his fortunes in the dangerous and perilous drug world in Johannesburg. IK’s first impression about his new prospect was very unfavorable: the reporter appeared too naïve and scared to be a successful drug baron.
“My man, the streets are very dangerous and you must be very hard to survive. But the boys are making a living, the same way I am also struggling,” IK said, clutching the reporter’s shoulder with a friendly hand.
Quartz Street is made up of predominantly of Nigerian immigrants. Apart from a sprinkle of Zimbabweans, all commercial activities are carried out by Nigerians and they are mainly from the South East. On the surface, there are the African food stores which sell Nigerian foods at exorbitant prices. There are the dry cleaners, internet cafes and bars owned and operated by Nigerians. But the real business of Quartz Street lies in its ugly underbelly, the world of cocaine and other illicit drugs. It’s a world so secretive that only few people are admitted into it; a world so dangerous that very few survive it.
Johannesburg, for many Nigerians and other immigrants, is the New York of South Africa. It exists so that the poor can survive. It is the only city in South Africa where immigrants can make ends meet doing multiple odd jobs. The city, derogatorily referred to as Johaness-hustle-burg by many locals and immigrants, also has the highest crime rate in the country. Aside from the usual criminal tendencies of frustrated locals, the crime rate is also fueled by the underground drug world. In Johannesburg, sadly, the drug world is controlled by Nigerians.
The crime world in the city is centered on three localities: Berea, HillBrow and Julies. In the first two neighborhoods, the drug kingpins rule while Julies is the headquarters of the credit card fraud business.
There are many stories about the cocaine world in Berea and HillBrow. Even among Nigerians, the name is mentioned with reverence and fear. They are tales so dangerous they sound almost unbelievable until of course one gets the evidence or a glimpse of that drug world. It is both dangerous and secretive. No one answers his real name in that world and there are multiple rumours of backstabbing, tradeoff and murder.
Getting information about how the drug business runs is no mean feat. One would have to be introduced by a member or someone who has the confidence of the drug lords. Lately, those who operate in this world had taken more precaution about the way the business is run. It was authoritatively gathered that early in October 2013, one of the kingpins was “dropped” in Julies. The drug lord was said to have been accosted by some men and several bullets were fired into his heart. He died before his body hit the ground. The late drug lord had reportedly led less than a sterling life with reports of several droppings he had either ordered or personally carried out.
Apart from these usual fatal confrontations, there are cases of ‘brothers telling on brothers.’ “Our people are wicked. If they see that you are making it, they will be the one to tell the police the kind of job you are doing. We have many cases of brilliant people who have been ruined like that.
“This job is a very dangerous one. If you are not careful or if you play too smart, you may not live to regret it or make amends,” a source said.
The real centre of activities for the drug business is Berea, a sleepy neighbourhood just outside Johannesburg city centre, and that world is controlled by Nigerians, mainly from a particular part of the country.
Very few understand how the Nigerian cartel that runs the drug world in Berea operates or how dangerous it could be when threatened. Those who rule the drug world are often not seen, preferring instead to use what is known in local parlance as the “hustle boys.”
The hustle boys can be found on every street in Berea. They look tough and hardened, more by the conditions under which they have to operate than by anything else. Even though their primary occupation is selling cocaine, marijuana and other hard drugs, they often have an alibi as all of them sell small provisions like sweets and kola nuts. There are others who sell jewellery, gold and diamond while a few others indulge in currency trading.
The most dangerous spots in Berea are Soope Street, Fife and Prospect Corner. On Soope Street, the houses are derelict and crying for rehabilitation. Most of the tenants here are Zimbabweans and Nigerians. On the houses are inscriptions warning residents that guns, knives and other dangerous weapons will not be allowed.
Down the road in Soope Street is Soope Lodge, which is said to be owned by a Nigerian. It is the home of drug addicts and dangerous drug lords. Outside, emaciated bodies slept on the pavements and the stairs.
Walking down Soope Street, it is common for one to hear a particular Nigerian language. You would find Nigerian men engaged in heated arguments, idling away. There are other men from Zimbabwe, wasted by drugs. They look more like skeletons than human beings, a result of years of drug abuse. But it is hard to find a Nigerian whose life has been wasted by drugs as much as South Africans and Zimbabweans.
The corner of Prospect and Fife Street is where the real drug business thrives. On this particular day, more than 40 Zimbabweans and South Africans stood on one side of the street sniffing cocaine; they looked like the worst human specimen, completely ruined by the drugs they use. On each side of the road could be found Nigerians selling provisions. But that was a façade that conceals their real business as drug couriers and small-time hustlers for the real kingpins.
According to the investigation carried out by The Nation, the “boys” who sell by the road side get their supply from a house between number 1 and 3, Prospect Corner, Berea. This house is said to be so dangerous that only accredited and “certified” drug lords can access it.
“That is where we get our supplies from. Not all of us can go inside there, but we have different levels of command. My own immediate boss can go inside and whatever he buys there, we will repackage and resell on the street,” one of the ‘boys’ told The Nation.
It is hard to find an innocent soul in Berea as almost everyone is involved in drug business. The talk among Nigerians is that anyone living in Berea must be into drug business. One of the hustlers simply called Daniel explained life on the edge in Berea.
“You know, there is no job in this country and the only people who make it are those who can hustle. Although it is dangerous, if you can survive it, you will be happy,” he said.
Happiness, in Berea context, The Nation learnt, meant climbing up the ladder in the underworld and buying a car. “The first thing the Nigerian buys after he becomes happy is a car. We have people who drive very expensive cars and that serves as a status symbol. Those of us who are still hustling can’t afford such luxuries,” Daniel further explained. In Hillbrow, you need to hustle to become a man”
It was 7pm on Quartz Street, Hill brow. More Nigerians were pouring into the streets and the Olympic Bar was filled to the brim. It is a storey building with a veranda that looks outside into the street. Not everyone can go inside and only those who have attained a level of street credibility are permitted. Up there, fun and enjoyment went on unabated while the legendary music of Fela blared from a big speaker on the veranda. Outside, Zimbabwean security guards stood at attention, frisking anyone going into the bar.
A large crowd gathered outside the African Food Stuff store. Trading activities began as cars poured into the street. As a car pulled up, one of the boys would move swiftly towards it and the ‘exchange’ would take place. Apart from those selling by the road side, many of the buildings on the street also acted as sales point.
But there are other legitimate businesses on Quartz Street. Chigozie, a 29- year- old Nigerian, sells fried yam on the street. A slice of the delicacy costs R10 and it goes with pepper stew. Soon, a call came on his mobile phone and he hurried off towards one of the buildings to deliver a consignment. There are others like Eze who sells jeans from the comfort of his car. He persuades passersby to patronise his “Nigerian jean.” A Nigerian-made pair of jeans costs a whopping R150.
But apart from the frenzy of commercial activities in Quartz Street, drug business booms in its underworld. It was the reporter’s first day at “work” and IK was explaining the process of recruitment to him. The first step towards becoming one of the boys is to start selling pipe (used for smoking cocaine). According to him, the pipe costs R20 each, and if one is hardworking, one can sell up to 200 pieces a night.
After a couple of months selling the pipe, one can graduate into running errands for the big boys in Berea or Hillbrow. By that time, one would have learnt the intricacies of the trade and know the landmines and how to approach them.
“You need to hustle to become a man in Hillbrow. All the boys who have made it started like this, and if you can do it, you will make it too,” IK said.
Down Quartz Street where the road links Kotze Street is the red light district where Zimbabwean ladies rule the world. Here, many Nigerians are regular patrons of the wild ladies of the night. The red light goes perfectly with the business on Hillbrow and Berea communities. The kingpins have their ladies there and when business is good, the orders flow from Berea to the red light on Kotze.
But one needs to always plan for the unexpected either in Hillbrow or Berea. On the evening of the undercover reporting, a fight broke out at the Olympic Bar. Those who knew the underground business said it was on a deal gone bad. The “boy” in the middle of the fight had his body covered with blood. Other Nigerians stood outside watching the spectacle.
As the fight became fiercer, the security guards moved in and pepper-sprayed the Nigerians before putting the “boy” in handcuffs. Five minutes later, a police pick-up van arrived and the Nigerians were pushed inside. The van headed towards Kotze Street and turned into Pretoria Street where the Hillbrow Police Station is located.
The police and corruption
Surprisingly, the Nigerians were least perturbed about the arrests made by the police. They were angry at the Zimbabwean security guards who had used pepper spray on them and had handcuffed one of their own. An argument soon broke out with the Nigerians demanding an apology from the security guards.
“You are ordinary Zimbabweans, how dare you pepper-spray me? You are an illegal alien as we are, so you are not better off. The other day when they wanted to kill you, we were the ones who saved your life,” one Nigerian said.
The security officers apologised and returned to their post. They knew better than to incur the wrath of the Nigerians. The reporter asked IK what would happen to the arrested Nigerians and got a shocking reply.
“We are going to bail them. The only problem now is that they may ask each of them to pay R2000 (about N42,000) for their release. We are not afraid of the police here; they allow us to do our business and we also keep our side of the bargain. We must put their money aside every week and give them when they come to collect it,” he said.
A similar scenario had played out in Berea a day earlier. Although cocaine was being sold and used openly and police vans patrolled the street every ten minutes, few arrests were made, if any. A hustler said the police rarely disturbed them and if any arrests were made at all, it was meant to collect their dues.
The reporter visited the Hillbrow police station; a station with world class police facilities. It stood majestically down the hill on Pretoria Street, Hillbrow. Beside it is the police barracks where the officers live. Several state of the art cars were parked in the garage and the apartment for the police was about a 20- storey building. It looked more like the newly refurbished 1004 flats on Victoria Island than a police barracks.
A source close to the police department, however, said there was no truth in the allegations of police complicity in the drug business of Hillbrow and Berea. “The police make arrests as soon as complaints are lodged and they are treated according to the law,” the source said.
Credit card fraud
After two days, IK was getting frustrated about the slow progress or the unwillingness of his new ‘recruit’ to become fully integrated into the underworld, so he looked for other options.
“go and meet your brothers. They are into card business and there is more money there. But remember, when you make it, don’t forget me,” he said.
IK’s advice was instructive because while kins men control the drug business, the reporter’s people are kings of the credit card scam. Their base his Green House in Julie’s area of Johannesburg. From the Carlton Centre in central Johannesburg, a R10 bus takes you down to Julie’s. Here too, there is high population of Nigerians mostly from another section of the country.
The credit card fraud is more intricate and delicate. According to a “repentant” fraudster, it requires the cooperation of clerks and officers in big malls and hotels who would supply the credit card details of wealthy clients to the gangs. But unlike the drug business, the police routinely make arrests and therefore the business is dying.
The dangers have also made the practitioners to be more careful and they often cooperate more with themselves. All attempts made by The Nation to speak to some kingpins were rebuffed and the repentant fraudster declined to make any more comments after a few hours.
The reporter did not succeed with the credit card issue and returned to Hillbrow, but IK was nowhere to be found. His phone was switched off when the reporter tried to call him. Of course, no one knew him by the name IK in Hillbrow, so his whereabouts remained shrouded in mystery.
“You are looking for your man? I suggest you better be on your way,” a sympathetic hustler said. The reporter did not need a second opinion; people do ‘vanish’ for doing less than he had already done.
