The prominent refrain “welcome to our…” symbolizes life’s inherent difficulty and complexity, which exists regardless of where one lives. At the beginning of the novel, saying “welcome to our Hillbrow” is a way to express frustration and helplessness over some of the more brutal aspects of living in the Hillbrow neighborhood of Johannesburg, South Africa (like the death of a young girl during a hit-and-run). However, as the novel continues, the refrain expands, sometimes finishing with “welcome to our Alexandra,” “…our Oxford,” and even, finally, “…our Heaven.” The constant use of this refrain underscores that there will always be good and bad aspects of places (just like people). In other words, characters can’t outrun their problems simply by moving to another location, because everywhere—even heaven—can be a complicated place to live. The repetition of this refrain also softens the book’s earlier critique of Hillbrow specifically, since it suggests that all places have the potential to be welcoming or hostile. Thus, “welcome to our…” works as a rhetorical symbol for the human experience in all places on Earth and beyond.
The Refrain “Welcome to our…” Quotes in Welcome to Our Hillbrow
You would recall the child, possibly seven years old or so, who got hit by a car. Her mid-air screams still ring in your memory. When she hit the concrete pavements of Hillbrow, her screams died with her. A young man just behind you shouted:
Kill the bastard!
But the driver was already gone. The traffic cops, arriving a few minutes later, found that the seasons of arrest had already passed. Most people, after the momentary stunned silence of witnessing the sour fruits of soccer victory, resumed their singing. Shosholoza […] drowned the choking sobs of the deceased child’s mother.
Welcome to our Hillbrow! you heard one man say to his female companion, who was a seeming newcomer to this place of bustling activity.
Your skull threatened to collapse at any moment, causing you the worst headache known to humanity. Your head spun at untold speed and you became intensely dizzy in these hot, whirling webs of sensory input, your memory picking out choice words here, scenes there…the infinite fragments combining and recombing in the containing frame of your head. Until the roaring pressure of your skull finally exploded:
Welcome to our Hillbrow…Welcome to our Alexandra…Welcome to our Tiragalong in Johannesburg…
Heaven is the world of our continuing existence, located in the memory and consciousness of those who live with us and after us. It is the archive that those we left behind keep visiting and revisiting; digging this out, suppressing or burying that. Continually reconfiguring the stories of our lives, as if they alone hold the real and true version. Just as you, Refilwe, tried to reconfigure the story of Refentše; just as Tiragalong now is going to do the same with you. Heaven can also be Hell, depending on the nature of our continuing existence in the memories and consciousness of the living.
Like Refentše, the first real Bone of your Heart, you too have had your fair taste of the sweet and bitter juices of life, that ooze through the bones of our Tiragalong and Alexandra, Hillbrow and Oxford.
Refilwe, Child of our World and other Worlds…
Welcome to our Heaven…