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Buzzby

The Heart Of The Drug Business
Alex Eliseev & Karyn Maughan | The Star | 08/22/2006

On the dangerous streets of Yeoville, where drugs are made to order, you can get your hands on anything if you know who to ask. Alex Eliseev and Karyn Maughan went out to experience how easy it is to buy 'the best dagga in the world'

A police van cruises past while we bargain the price of the finest dagga in the land. The cop driver looks back at us and continues patrolling Yeoville's Rockey Street.

We're just metres away from Joburg's Cannabis "Mecca" on Raymond Street. It's a cold week-night and the streets of "the kas" (the cupboard) are almost empty.

Things are slow and all we see is a shot man bleeding on a street corner and a violent brawl that starts with brick throwing and ends in a car chase.

When a paramedic finally arrives to treat the man's bullet wound he makes a chilling confession: "If I see a guy lying on the street bleeding to death I'm not stopping. Not unless it's been called in to control," he says.

The ambulance driver then tells us how his colleague was waved down by a crowd, dragged out of the ambulance and stabbed in the chest with a knife.

On these streets you get killed for a pair of takkies, explains our guide. There is no law and no compassion, he says.

Most of the buildings have been hijacked by foreign crime syndicates, and the suburbs sliced into turfs by gangsters.

Another police van drives past without stopping to investigate the shooting near Buddy's Café on Cavendish Street.

We enter Yeoville, the heart of the drug trade, to understand the underworld.

Our source is street-wise, having served almost 20 years with the former South African Narcotics Bureau (Sanab). He lives in Yeoville and knows almost every man we drive past.

Often the car comes to a halt, the tinted windows roll down and loud, playful insults are exchanged.

"When are you going back to jail?" he shouts to a youngster, telling us that the man has just come out of prison for rape. The guy swears he's clean.

"I see you've lost your corner," he taunts another small group of foreigners.

Our guide is respected on the streets, and travels them without fear. Fearless, of course, does not mean suicidal and both he and his friend keep their guns loaded.

We are introduced to him early in the week and sit down to talk drugs. We want to know everything and start with dagga, a drug that has become so de-prioritised that it is almost accepted by society.

"You can order whatever you want," he says. "They can mix it with heroin if you like. If you wanted to mix perfume into it it's no problem. It's all custom-made."

The best of the local cannabis is "Skunk". It's the Aston Martin of dagga and sells for between R100 and R150 a bankie (a small plastic bag roughly the size of a packet of cigarettes).

Next on the grading list is Swazi, which can go for about R50, and Malawi, cheaper yet.

The cannabis is grown on farms in Swaziland, Lesotho and even in Gauteng. It is purchased by kingpins and either spills onto the streets of Johannesburg or is exported to Europe.

The big bosses never get their hands dirty, but can grow into millionaires almost overnight. If a kilogram of dagga costs R500 in South Africa, the same kilogram would sell for up to R12 000 in the UK.

Our journey starts with a quick purchase of the finest Skunk. Our guide shows us how quick and hassle-free it is to purchase dagga. The deal is conducted through an open car window and a special price is negotiated. We drive around the corner to kill a few minutes and return to pick up the stash.

In plain view the light in the car is switched on and the dagga inspected. It's good. The money is slipped into the dealer's hand.

Police pay little attention to us. On the following nights we have no trouble buying ecstasy on the same street corner.

 

Nugget Lover

There was still more to the article after the ad. here is the rest.

"We are told that almost anything can be bought on these streets.

Guns for R100 to R200, ID documents, passports and any type of drug imaginable are all available, if you know who to ask.

Hijacked cars are also driven into Yeoville. The police's anti-hijacking units work in the area every second night, our guide reckons.

We leave the area, and arrange to return on Friday. Word spreads of our presence and police raid the following night. Among their targets is the Green House on Raymond Street, known as the Marijuana Mecca.

When we return, the chaos we were spared on Tuesday consumes us.

We witness two armed robberies on the streets, take part in the unsuccessful arrest of a Nigerian drug dealer and get caught in a shootout between police and robbers.

Luckily nobody is killed and four robbers are cuffed and taken to the station.

We also visit an abandoned construction site where Satanists carry out their rituals and a Rastafarian church.

But the moist poignant moment was looking into the dark eyes of a 25-year-old heroin junkie called Patrick. Police pounce on him, and his dealer, on the small side street of Houghton.

They had been monitoring the youngster for hours as he cruised the area looking for a fix. Cheap heroin is sold for as little as R30 a gram.

Patrick, who lives and works in the wealthy northern suburbs, is just another statistic, our guide says.

His own dealer is likely to set him up to be robbed, or murdered, for his car.

"Guys like him don't last here," he explains.

When the clock strikes 2am in Yeoville, and the nightclubs close, the streets become a viscous battlefield. The drunk and inexperienced are attacked and robbed.

Patrick's skin is a sickly gray and he begins lying from the outset. First he claims to be a novice, who has only touched heroin three times.

Soon he admits to having blown over R4 000 on the drug and being helplessly hooked. He tells us of the pains he feels all over his body. The terrible pains of addiction.

His mother has no clue of the downward spiral her son is riding. She will probably never know how close Patrick came to being arrested and sent to prison.

She never saw his face as the blue lights flashed nearby.

Patrick's dealer had managed to throw the "Thai White" out the window and evades arrest.

Patrick is also released. But the chances of heroin releasing him are slim.

One of our last destination is the Hell's Angels clubhouse on Hendon Street.

But the abandoned address tells us that Yeoville is no place for angels, no matter what kind."

Buzzby

If I'd wanted to post the whole article, I would have. The rest of it has nothing to do with marijuana and therefore is not relevant to this forum. Please don't "help out" by second-guessing the news staff.

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1tokeovertheline

Wow!!!!! It seems the News Staff and some of the Moderators are a little bit touchy this week. Actually the rest of the article did contain a part relevant to marijuana and ties in the WHOLE story. Here it is:
I understand we all have bad days, but Buzzby censoring the news?? That seems to be way out of your beliefs. Hope your day gets better.