IF YOU KNEW WHAT I KNOW
An Investigative Memoir by Noko Maleka
Coming Soon
Welcome
What if the story you have been told about Johannesburg is only part of the truth?
If You Knew What I Know is an investigative memoir that follows journalist and broadcaster Noko Maleka as he documents life in Hillbrow and Johannesburg's inner city. Through firsthand experiences and investigations, the book explores homelessness, abandoned children, poverty, crime, and the systems that shape everyday life.
What began as a Christmas outreach in 2024 became an investigation that changed everything—and inspired the documentary If You Knew What I Know.
About the Book
Once known as the City of Gold, Johannesburg has long attracted people searching for opportunity. But behind the skyline are stories that often go untold.
This book invites readers to look beyond the headlines and consider the challenges faced by many communities. It shares the author's experiences, reporting, and perspectives while asking difficult questions about accountability, governance, policing, and the lives of vulnerable people.
This is a journey into the heart of Johannesburg's inner city—and a call to confront uncomfortable truths.
About the Author
Noko Maleka is a South African journalist, broadcaster, and founder of Insight Jozi News. His work focuses on community stories, investigative journalism, and giving a voice to people whose experiences are often overlooked.
Coming Soon
📖 Book: If You Knew What I Know
🎬 Documentary: If You Knew What I Know
📍 Johannesburg, South Africa
Follow the Journey
Visit InsightJoziNews.org for updates, articles, interviews, and the official book release.
"The truth doesn't disappear because we choose not to look at it." — Noko Maleka
Chapter One: Christmas Morning
ReplyDeleteThe summer sun rose gently over Johannesburg on Christmas morning in 2024. The city carried its usual contradictions—streets filled with celebration, laughter echoing from homes, and the promise of a day meant for family, love, and giving.
My lover and I sat together asking a simple question.
"How should we spend Christmas this year?"
Neither of us wanted expensive gifts or crowded celebrations. We wanted our Christmas to mean something beyond ourselves. After a long conversation, we agreed that the greatest gift we could give was our time. We would spend Christmas Day with orphaned children.
It sounded simple enough.
Hillbrow, a place I knew well, had always been spoken of as home to many orphanages and children's homes. Finding one, I believed, would take only a few minutes. My plan was straightforward: visit an orphanage early that morning, introduce myself, and let them know we would return at lunchtime with food, gifts, and Christmas cheer.
I left full of excitement.
As I walked through the streets, I imagined children waiting for visitors, excited smiles, Christmas songs, and the warmth that every child deserves to feel on such a special day.
But what I found instead would change me forever.
The answers I received did not match the stories people tell about Hillbrow. Behind the buildings, beneath the noise of the city, and hidden in plain sight was a reality few people were willing to acknowledge. The deeper I searched, the more uncomfortable the truth became.
By the time the sun reached its highest point, I knew this journey was no longer about celebrating Christmas.
It had become a search for something much bigger.
I did not know it then, but that day marked the beginning of an investigation that would eventually become my documentary, If You Knew What I Know.
This book tells the story behind that investigation.
A month later, while I was working on the documentary, my life took another unexpected turn.
I was robbed.
My computer, my phone, and my camera—the very tools I needed to document the truth—were taken from me.
It did not feel like an ordinary robbery.
The attack was brutal. The men appeared organised, heavily armed, and determined. In that moment, I believed I was not meant to survive. Everything about the encounter made me feel as though it was more than a crime of opportunity.
It felt like a warning.
As they surrounded me, one of the men looked at me and said, "Bafo... they're going to kill you if you don't stop poking your nose where it doesn't belong."
Those words have never left me.
Whether they were speaking for themselves or for someone else, I could not know. But from that day forward, I realised that searching for the truth can come at a price.
That robbery did not end my investigation.
It became part of it.