When both the owner and caretaker gave up on Everest, an 11-storey flat block in Johannesburg’s notorious Hillbrow, the job of building manager did not look attractive. In 1999 the building, at the corner of Goldreich and Edith Cavell streets, was well on its way to becoming a slum. Thirteen or 14 people were crammed into some of the two-bedroomed flats, drains were blocked and tenants traded drugs on the doorstep. The immediate neighbourhood was even worse, accommodating pawn shops known to fence stolen goods and a number of shebeens.
But for Maureen Singh, Everest was an opportunity.
The job allowed Singh, who had been living in the building for 10 years, to spend some time at home with her grandchildren. The new owner believed that if he hired her as a caretaker — or building manager, which is the term that Singh prefers — she would turn the building around.
The owner was right. The building, though 50 years old and in need of paint in some places, is now in good shape. The passages sparkle, both lifts work, there is no litter and drying laundry is neatly tucked behind screen walls on the roof. The sign advertising Desert Eagles Armed Reaction at the entrance to the building is, however, a little daunting: ”Trespassers will be shot. Survivors will be shot again.”
Singh says that when she started running the building, ”there was a lot of overcrowding. I knew they were doing drugs. There was loud music. I said I would get hold of the police.”
But Singh decided to use tough love instead. She drew up house rules and went systematically from door-to-door enforcing them: four people maximum in a one-bedroom flat, five people maximum in a two-bedroom flat. ”I spoke to them nicely. Firstly, I explained that it’s unhealthy to have so many people sharing — particularly if they are strangers. Would you want to share a bath with someone who has a disease you don’t know about? Then I said that there’s no pride living like this. After all, you’ve come to the city to uplift yourself. And they agreed.” People were given a week to comply.
Singh estimates that it took between six and nine months to bring the numbers down. ”People started seeing the limelight and started filtering out a bit,” she says. Whenever an illegal subtenant moved out, he or she could not be replaced. ”That way I got rid of all the people who weren’t kosher. Now we are a happy family.”
Singh ascribes her success to her own leadership qualities, the fact that the building owner has given her the authority to take action, and her hands-on approach. Singh says: ”When you’re a building manager you must get yourself involved with everybody. I know each and every living soul. That’s my job. Mr Maxwell has been staying in Everest for 30 years, Mr Culato for 22 years, Maxine for somewhere between 18 to 20 years …”
She is selective about her tenants. There are lots of policemen, nurses and ”security people” living in the building, and when a vacancy does arise she takes pro-active steps to fill it with similar tenants, approaching the personnel departments in nearby clinics — Brenthurst, Rand Clinic and Park Lane — to advertise the vacancy. ”I don’t just take anybody from off the street,” she says.
She says visitors are always impressed with the condition of the building, which is indeed spotless. She points to the sinks next to each refuse collection area on the fire escape landings, so that tenants can wash their hands after handling their rubbish.
Singh displays an insight into her tenants’ lives that would do a sociology graduate proud. She calls the flats ”homes from home”, acknowledging that her tenants are often mobile and using inner-city accommodation only because it’s close to work. On weekends or month-ends, many return to far-flung family homes. But she is adamant that the interim space does not have to be bleak or insecure.
There are stringent regulations. All visitors have to hand their ID documents to the security guard at the entrance. Visiting hours are between 3pm and 10pm, ”in order to protect my tenants who work night shift”, she says. On the other hand, if tenants want to bring their children home over Christmas or the school holidays, they can get her permission. She also seems lenient with tenants who cannot pay their rent on time, so long as they tell her and make some arrangement.
What does it feel like to be at the receiving end of Singh’s tough love?
Patricia Mawasane first moved to Hillbrow five years ago to be near Parktown College where she studied human resource management. She sought out the building because it looked ”nice”, first sharing with a friend until she and her fiancÃ