New Year's Eve Hillbrow, Johannesburg

New Year's Eve, Hillbrow

Hillbrow Tower, New Year's Eve.
Hillbrow Johannesburg
Police parade.
Constitution Hill, Johannesburg
Police raid on Pretoria street.
Hillbrow, Johannesburg
Police question and search a young man after raiding a dark building
(illegally inhabited building with no running water or electricity).
The man had a pair of scissors on him which gives the police reason to believe he is a street mugger.
Hillbrow, Johannesburg
Police question a homeless man on New Year's Eve.
Pretoria street, Hillbrow 
A man protests to the police after being searched on Pretoria street in an aggressive manner.
Hillbrow, Johannesburg
Police search a man outside a dark building
(Illegally inhabited building with no running water or electricity).
Hillbrow, Johannesburg
Minutes before midnight a shebeen (bar where alcohol is sold illegally without a liquor licence)
owner confronts the police who acting on intellegence are confiscating crates of beer and cider.
According to the police this shebeen is linked to many crimes and violent activities due to the fact they sell well after the legal cut off times.
Hillbrow, Johannesburg
A scuffle breaks out between police and the man who lit the firework further escalating the situation.
Hillbrow, Johannesburg
Residents decide smashing the alcohol is a better alternative to having it confiscated and a scene of breaking and throwing bottles at the police ensues.
Hillbrow, Johannesburg
The local residents of the shebeen (bar where alcohol is sold illegally without a liquor licence)
chase police out of the building back to the safety of their Nyala (armoured police carrier).
Hillbrow, Johannesburg
A boy plays in the stairwell of his building while police raid.
Hillbrow, Johannesburg
Lobby of a building searched by the police.
Hillbrow, Johannesburg
A man celebrates on the pavement outside of an apartment building.
Abel street, Berea
Two men look down the street before running to their apartment block in fear of being hit by bottles, furniture or fireworks from parties happening on balconies lining the street.
Hillbrow, Johannesburg
View of a street in Hillbrow on New Year's Eve.  Recent Years have seen residents throwing furniture and bottles from their balconies.  Police have adopted an offensive tactic to prevent people throwing furniture and glass bottles.  After seeing any debris being thrown from a balcony, the balcony and suspects are identified from the Nyala (armoured police carrier) and the police raid the building.  
Hillbrow, Johannesburg
 
The TRT are called in as backup to a building throwing bottles and fireworks at a police Nyala (armoured police carrier).
The TRT are seen as controversial after being involved in the fatal shooting of 44 miners in Marikana 2012, they carry sub machine guns with live ammunition
Corner Tudhope and Abel, Berea
A man in the passage of a building being searched by the police, the two stars tattooed under his right eye indicate possible gang involvement.
Hillbrow, Johannesburg
Police search a man on the stairwell of his apartment building, police are looking for weapons and drugs trying to minimize the chance of violence and drug related crimes on New Year's Eve.
Hillbrow, Johannesburg
Police search an apartment on New Year's Eve, the captain in charge of the operation says they are searching specific buildings based on intellegence collected before hand.
The police officer has his Sjambok(heavy leather whip used for self defence)
tucked into the back of his bullet proof vest incase he needs to reach it quickly.
Hillbrow, Johannesburg
A man points his fingers in the form of a gun at the police as they are leaving after raiding his New Year's Eve party.
Hillbrow, Johannesburg 
Police search a man outside his apartment for weapons or drugs.
Hillbrow, Johannesburg
View of a street in Hillbrow on New Year's Eve.  Recent Years have seen residents throwing furniture and bottles from their balconies.  Police have adopted an offensive tactic to prevent people throwing furniture and glass bottles.  After seeing any debris being thrown from a balcony, the balcony and suspects are identified from the Nyala (armoured police carrier) and the police raid the building.  
Hillbrow, Johannesburg
Street view of an Nyala (armoured police carrier) from a balcony where bottles and furniture were suspected to have be thrown.  
words by
Camilla Janse van Vuuren
 
I spent New Year’s Eve on the streets of Hillbrow. In the belly of a beast that I
have feared for over a decade. I’ve never been to Hillbrow. I’ve driven through
it, windows shut, doors locked, eyes on the road.
 
This was a little different.
 
Jono and I meet up with some journalists and head to watch the police parade at
Constitution Hill at dusk. Orange and purple skies, ash coloured buildings, rows
and rows of men (and a few women) in blue uniforms. Shiny boots. All solemnly
staring ahead, taking instructions for the night. There’s some whispering and
occasional gum chewing.
 
We get a security briefing and are told to meet back at the police station at 9pm
to board the police Nyala (an armoured personnel carrier) reserved for the
press. The press Nyala will be driven to certain locations. Jono is having none of
that. He wants to move with the police. ‘We need to be on the street where stuff
is happening,’ he says to me. And even though I am an enormous scaredy cat, I
know he is right.
 
He gets us a ride in one of the police cars that is doing the first patrol. Roughly
6pm to 8.30pm. It’s my first time riding in the back of a police car. First on a
night of many firsts. My faux journalism credentials are feeling pretty faux at
this point. Jono lends me his second camera that stays slung across my body for
the rest of the night. A prop that somehow makes me feel irrationally braver.
 
 
 
We drive into Hillbrow. I have less than no idea what to expect. We realise we
are in the front patrol car, these guys choose where we stop. Suddenly, they pull
over, open the doors and run. The engine is still running and I’m still getting my
bag and camera over my shoulder. They’re picking people in the street to search.
Male policemen search men and the female policewomen search a few women.
Mostly people comply patiently. Just waiting for it to be over. There is a
constant popping of fireworks. They will become the sound track of the night.
 
I look up, the sky is turning hippo belly pink.
 
 
 
We stop five or six more times. Jumping out of the car and running with the
police never gets less scary. My adrenalin is having the busiest day of its life. We
go into a tavern, down alleyways, into shops. They search people’s stalls and
through the blankets of homeless people on the pavement. I watch a policeman
flicking dvds onto the ground like he is dealing a hand of poker.
 
A plainclothes policeman hands me a pair of blue rubber gloves. Having no idea
what they are for, I put them on anyway. They’re too big, I feel like a Pixar
character. I lower my hand and the glove falls to the ground. I take them off and
shove them into my pocket.
 
We get back into the police car and the policeman riding in the back with us says,
‘Sorry if we smell. There’s a lot of shit out there.’ He is eating a banana and has
turned his cap backwards like an action hero.
 
 
 
We start going into buildings too. Crossing the beautifully tiled lobbies of
these old buildings and then up flights and flights of stairs. A lot of the time there
is no power, so we’re running in the dark. I watch the pair of combat boots in
front of me to see where they land. I suddenly remember I’m wearing a lacy,
strapless bra. The impracticality of which makes me laugh out loud.
 
The bones of most of the buildings hold strong, but the muscle and flesh is all but
ripped away. A city full of zombie buildings.
 
 
 
With closed fists they bang on doors. Bang bang bang. Until someone opens
up or until no one does and then they move on. They bang on a particular door
nine or ten storeys up and don’t stop. I am crouched on the stairwell, with a view
of the whole landing. I watch a policewomen unclip the press stud of her gun
holster. Bang bang bang. And place her hand on the gun, ready. This is the most
frightened I have ever been.
 
Captain Backwards Cap breaks open a door with a backwards kick. Inside is a
bunch of twenty somethings having a party. The police divide the room into
males on the left and females on the right. There is some disgruntled, drunken
shouting and scuffling. The partygoers seem frustrated by the sudden police
presence. ‘This is disrespectful!’ a guy shouts. They find nothing. I lean against a
wall just outside and a girl comes and stands next to me. She shakes her head a
little and gives me a ‘I know, right?’ look. Neither of us says anything.
 
As we’re leaving the building a girl points at me and yells above the fireworks
and music to her friends, ‘Hey, I love that chick’s fringe!’
 
A glass bottle hits the side of the police car as we drive away. It’s time to go back
to the station. ‘Soft cars aren’t safe after 9,’ they tell us.
 
 
 
It takes a while for the briefing to happen and for teams of police to be
divided into the Nyalas. We sit outside on the pavement and wait. I’m shaking
like I’m barefoot in the snow. We find a tuck shop just up the road and buy Cokes
and chewing gum. Adrenalin is a treat for the taste buds. It’s the most delicious
meal I’ve had.
 
Again, Jono works his magic and we get to ride with the police in one of their
Nyalas. Although this does mean we will run when they run, go where they go.
The shaking comes back.
 
For over an hour we drive slowly through the virtually empty streets of Hillbrow.
Through the mesh grid on the windows, it looks like the night has happened
already. We pass a smashed computer screen and a three-legged plastic chair. A
few roads later we pass an office chair on its side, surrounded by broken glass.
There is celebration debris everywhere. Fireworks continue to explode.
Occasionally as we turn corners people spot the police vehicle and run. A glass
bottle hits the top of the Nyala and all the policemen chuckle.
 
 
 
Shortly before midnight, the police charge into a room that seems to be an
illegal shebeen. They start to confiscate bottles. It gets messy quickly. The men
are angry and shake their fists, the women shout and scream. Between the vivid
colours and textures, the pop pop pop of fireworks, the breaking beer bottles and
the endless shouting, the scene seems almost theatrical. Surreal Hillbrow opera.
 
I go and stand outside for a while. Casually sticking very close to a policeman. A
guy wearing silky boxer shorts and women’s slippers drunkenly stumbles up to
me and says, ‘Hey journalist, you gotta watch Carte Blanche this Sunday. Channel
109. I’m breaking a big story.’ He stumbles away and then comes back twice
more to tell me the same thing.
 
It’s almost midnight and my policeman companion takes his phone out. I ask
him if he’s calling his family. He looks at me like I’m an alien from outer space
and says, ‘No, I’m calling the guys inside to see what’s happening.’
 
 
 
The fireworks reach their crescendo as midnight strikes. Bottles rain down.
They hit the road and explode like popcorn made of glass. Suddenly all the police
come running out of the building. The angry crowd is just behind them,
throwing bottles. I run too, covering my head with my arms. A policewoman
pulls me into the Nyala. I realise Jono has stayed inside to continue
photographing. I see the pictures afterwards and I understand why. He tells me
later that a bottle flew past his ear and smashed on the wall behind him, spraying
his camera with beer.
 
We spend the next while watching the police bang on doors, get people out of
their rooms and send them downstairs to wait on the pavement. They then
instruct them to pick up the debris that has been thrown onto the streets. There
is little complaint, except from a few people who point at the building across the
road in blame. We go into that building too and repeat the exercise. It seems
strange to be waking people up for this. So after the fact. ‘We do this to teach
them to not throw things next year,’ Captain Backwards Cap explains.
 
 
 
It’s time to leave. It’s almost 2am. I look at my prop camera and realise that I
didn’t take a single photo. The lens cap never even came off. 
 
 

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