JOHN WALKER MASTER BLASTER FEEDBACK
DURING my interview with Werner, the graffiti man, he came up with an interesting bit of information. He told me in Brazil, their Trashjunkies’ (called “catadores”) trollies are covered in graffiti. Not just scribbles, but intricate murals. Then every year, they have a get-together and prizes are awarded to trollies in various categories.
While investigating this little pearl, I notice their trollies are more sophisticated than the ones used here. Perhaps they can be replicated in SA by some aspirant entrepreneur, to the benefit of all involved? Just a thought.
DRIVING in late-afternoon traffic last week, I noticed a white chap holding a board at the intersection of Buckingham and Clarence in Craighall Park. Because of my burgeoning interest in Street People, I tend to notice if there is something unusual about them. In this case the guy had an obscure message written on his board, which despite going past him as slowly as the traffic around me permitted, I was unable to decipher. At first, I thought, “So what, I’ll see him again… ”, but then something made me turn back for a chat.
My impression was of a neatly groomed, polite, surprisingly eloquent chap, so I asked if he minded being interviewed. He didn’t.
Hence on Monday evening, John Moore, (aka John “Walker”, because he walks everywhere) and I, had a couple of beers and a heart-toheart at the ever-popular Giles pub in Craighall.
John turned out to be every bit as eloquent as he appeared on meeting him.
Despite being somewhat weather-beaten and dressed in well-worn attire, he was neat, clean, polite and ultimately fascinating. His story is a mini-epic of adventure, mishap, success and disaster, which kept me intrigued for much longer than a usual interview takes.
John, 50, grew up in downtown Johannesburg in Eloff Street opposite the OK Bazaars. He and his sister, two years younger than him, lived with his grandmother who was a theatre nurse.
“Because of her job she was hardly ever home,” he says smiling, “so we did pretty much what we wanted. My mother had gone to the UK as she was getting married to an English guy.”
When he was five, he and his sister joined their mother in England. John attended school there which he enjoyed. “There were so many courses and just lots to do. And I used to play a lot of sport.” When his mother got divorced, they all returned to South Africa.
“We stayed in Turffontein, then moved to Claremont. I went to Forest High, which was full of Lebs and Porros,” he laughs. “I remember once we played rugby against Hill High and we lost the game because the ref cheated; but we won the fight. So we were banned from playing them for a couple of years.”
After that he attended John Orr Tech where he loved the wood-working courses. He says he was also a sergeant in the cadets. When he left after completing Standard 9 John got a job as a shop-fitter for a few months; then reported to the air force for national service. Before he did, he and his boss and a mate thought they would celebrate, by smoking a joint. “We were smoking in the chicken coop when someone knocked on the door. Of course they were policemen. They arrested and charged us. It wasn’t too serious until they found a Mandrax tablet. Because my boss and the other guy had previous convictions and would have got heavy sentences, I took the rap as I was a first-timer. I got
e was on the mines and when he worked in hotels. It seems he would go to Hillbrow and get up to various kinds of mischief. Although he insists he was not a trouble-maker.
“When the other guys were getting into huge bar fights and stuff, I was always the one in the corner with a girl. I was actually a peacemaker.”
He then tells me a sobering story, after one particularly wild party, he woke up to see his estranged father, with whom he had recently reunited, and was living with, put a revolver in his mouth and shoot himself. “It was unbelievable,” John says, “but I had to get my sister out of the place without her seeing my father lying dead on the floor. Then I had to get all the drunk guys out who were sleeping everywhere; so I didn’t have time to really absorb what I had just witnessed. Although it does occasionally come back to me. What confuses me is, he was always happy and I never saw him get angry.”
John then met a woman whose friend had a security company and he started helping them out. “We looked after places like Ellis Park and The Alhambra Theatre. I used to sneak in and watch a lot of plays.”
At some stage he got engaged. One night he was dropping a uniform at someone’s house when some guys suddenly jumped him. “One of them held a gun against my head and pulled the trigger twice, but it didn’t fire. So I grabbed the gun from him and I shot him, (not dead, apparently). My fiancée saw this, and she became scared of me and ditched me.”
He suddenly felt his world was imploding so without any clear idea what he was doing – except getting away, he caught a bus to George. There he worked as the photographer in a bungee-jumping business. “I did it for about five years and it was a very happy time in my life.” The Juggler: The other day, an anonymous benefactor gave The Juggler, Khutlang and his brothers, Gift and Ayanda, warm sheepskin jackets; which made them very happy chappies.
Papy the Philosopher: Called to tell me (again) his life has improved wonderfully, “Since I was in such a big newspaper as yours… ” flattery will get him a long way in life. Catherine the Tragic: I saw her the other day, looking quite smart in the clothes my friend Rose gave her.
Given Streetwalker: Seems to think, now I’ve done the interview, I might just be a potential client and so phones me constantly. Unfortunately, I have been too busy and will be for several years, to engage with her…
His mother then had a near-death accident in Joburg, so he returned, and almost inevitably, ended up on the streets.
Throughout our conversation I’m impressed with how he lives in the moment. “When I put my head down,” he says, “I only think about what is happening to me there and then. I don’t worry about other things.” He suddenly tells a story about living in a bush near the Old Parks Sport’s club for four months. “It was my castle,” he says smiling, “then one day they cut it down, removed all my stuff and I was homeless.” He now stays in a room in Bompas Road at offices, where he provides a security presence.