#Brixton

Thorsten, my architect boyfriend, and I recently led a walking tour of Brixton, our home suburb, on behalf of the Johannesburg Heritage Foundation. That tour was a big success so we’ve decided to strike out on our own and host another one – a “Brixton Tour with the Blogitects” on November 12th. We’re teaming up with Kia’s Kitchen and a bunch of other cool Brixton personalities. It’s going to be fun! Sign up now before the tour fills up.

I’ve been doom-scrolling too much and sleeping too little lately. The U.S. government has been hijacked by right-wing zealots. Women’s rights have been rolled back by 50 years. The South African government can’t provide basic services to its people and we face Stage 6 loadshedding tonight. The war in Ukraine grinds on. I’m struggling to cope with the world and I know I’m not alone.

Last week I moved from Melville, the central Joburg suburb where I’ve lived for the past 11 years, to Brixton, another central Joburg suburb about five minutes away.

Moving five minutes up the road should be no big deal, theoretically. People move all the time. But this move is, in fact, a big deal for me. It’s a huge fucking deal, so much so that I haven’t been able to figure out how to blog about it.

On Sunday I stopped by a cleanup event at the Brixton Cemetery, hosted by the Friends of Johannesburg Cemeteries. The volunteer group regularly organizes cleanups at different cemeteries around the city, picking up rubbish and restoring the older headstones.

I’ve never been to Burning Man or Afrika Burn. While I theoretically love the idea of hanging around in a remote desert for a week, living communally and photographing incredible art, I’m not keen on the meticulous planning and preparation such an expedition entails. So when I heard there would be a Brixton Burn – a mini burn, so to speak, in my soon-to-be home suburb of Brixton – I quickly signed up to attend.