In what was once a vibrant part of the Cape Town CBD, there are now more “To Let” signs than toilets in the desolate pedestrian district of St George’s Mall, writes Gasant Abarder in his #SliceOfGA.
Abarder, who recently launched his book, Hack with a Grenade, is among the country’s most influential media voices. Catch his weekly column here, exclusive to Cape {town} Etc.
As I write this it is bucketing down in Cape Town on election day. It may be sunny later. Summer is late and it’s been four seasons in one day for the past few weeks.
It reminds me of a recent visit to the Cape Town CBD. It started off rainy but when I left two hours later the sun was out. While there, I caught up with one of my favourite Capetonians.
Ahmad Hussein is a refugee who sells sweets, chocolates and soft drinks from his stall outside the Argus building named Newspaper House at the bottom of St George’s Mall towards St George’s Cathedral.
Ahmad has been living in Cape Town since fleeing Somalia 11 years ago. He is as Capetonian as they come. Even if you don’t have cash he’ll happily extend you credit because he knows you’re good for it. He knows all the employees who work in the offices around him by name and he even remembers their kids’s names and where they work.
He now owns a store too in a building just down the road from his stall as his business has grown over the years. Ahmad is bucking the trend. In this part of the CBD there are more “To Let” signs than toilets for the public to use.
The homeless will tell you it’s a cynical move to close public toilets after hours in a measure to keep them from hanging around.
Despite the claim of being the best run city it doesn’t hold true for large parts of the Cape Town CBD. It depends which part of the CBD you find yourself in. Venture towards the Foreshore district and its gleaming towers and suits.
On the extreme opposite it resembles a ghost town. It’s like the four seasons of weather we’ve been experiencing.
Diagonally across the road from Ahmad’s stall sits a woman who sings non-stop at the top of her voice. When I was a newspaper editor in this part of town I remember grimacing as she couldn’t really hold a note. But her singing in a sharp tenor voice has improved over the last few months. It’s the only sign that there is life in the area.
The homeless people I know and regularly stopped to chat to are gone. Where they’ve gone to is anyone’s guess because the authorities have cleaned up with fines and in some cases arrests.
The businesses in this part of town have suffered and COVID-19 has no doubt played a role as office workers have been working from home. The hundreds of newspaper and call centre staff who shuffle in and out of the buildings supporting the local eateries aren’t here.
But the decline started months before COVID-19 hit. Gone is the guy who makes your morning cup of coffee from a start-up, the homeless woman you acknowledge on your way to the office and the busker that plays a familiar tune as you go about your routine.
The “To Let” signs tell the story of empty shop floors since the regular tenants – mostly small time entrepreneurs – have long moved on. The anchor tenants from large chains have stuck around but customers are few and far between.
The tapestry that makes up the vibrant sights and sounds of this pedestrian precinct of the Cape Town CBD has been unthreaded. Like the weather, it is dull, grey, grim and has no soul or personality.
When tourism returns to South Africa, the Cape Town CBD will have a sparse offering because cities are not about the aesthetic and how many gleaming buildings you can put up per square metre. It’s about the people.
With the help of COVID-19, most of the informal economy has been driven out by draconian bylaws under the guise of nuisance and noise. These bylaws don’t look kindly on the notion of lifting yourself up by your bootstraps.
For now, Ahmad remains hopeful with his trademark smile that I can recognise in his eyes – Even though he is wearing a mask. He has been embraced and accepted by his customers.
He speaks fondly of the Bo-Kaap where he is a member of the community and he tells me it is only a matter of months before he receives his well-earned permanent residence status.
It is Ahmad and these familiar faces of Cape Town who make the CBD rich and vibrant. Without them, the CBD reflects Cape Town 2021’s long winter of discontent.
Read also:
Pictures: Supplied
