In a bar and grill on Louis Botha Avenue there sits a tale of how a man and his family came to own a heritage site honoured by the City of Johannesburg.
A cheerful man wearing a blue-striped shirt walks into the Radium Beer Hall on the corner of Louis Botha Avenue and 9th Street in Orange Grove, Johannesburg. He makes his way to three men seated at the bar and pats on the back one of them in a green shirt. The three say simultaneously: ‘Hey Manny!’ They all share a few words and then Manny leaves them to greet more patrons sitting at tables near the entrance.
It is a Saturday afternoon at the Radium. Proprietor Manny Cabeleira (65) speaks to the bartenders and waiters, ensuring that the venue is running right on track for the night. As the sun begins to set, rain starts to shower the street. The heavy downpour outside, on Louis Botha Avenue, is masked by the loud music played by a band, Black Harbour, as they perform for the crowd.
A white-haired woman sitting in the dining area swings her hips and raises her hands in the air to the beat of dark blues. Despite the band’s loud music, a few men at the bar have their eyes glued to a soccer match on TV. At midnight the laughter and music fade away at the Radium as the night comes to an end.
Manny Cabeleira, the owner of the Radium Beer Hall, a place honoured by the city of Johannesburg, says “the reason why I welcomed blacks into the Radium is that it was the right thing to do”. Photo: Tumelo Modiba.
The night’s crowd has long disappeared when the Radium’s atmosphere eases into the silence of a Sunday morning. A white bakkie pulls up alongside the venue. It belongs to Miguel Cabeleira, the Radium’s manager, who steps out of it. A young boy and a woman emerge from a small sedan parked in front of the bakkie. The woman, wearing black leggings and a pink tank top, hands Miguel a blue school bag and a gym bag. He and the woman slowly make their way to the Radium as the boy runs, excited, to the entrance of the bar.
“Dad, can I help you open up the bar today?”
“Yes of course you can, my boy,” Miguel answers.
Sunday afternoon winds down while four men fill the Radium with jazz.
On Wednesday a noticeable aroma of burning incense billows out of Yogi’s Den, a clothing store that neighbours the bar and grill, welcoming the bar’s patrons just before they enter the Radium.
A loud voice pierces the room as Manny greets a bartender, two waiters and a customer propping up the bar.
“Good morning, everyone. We need to start bringing in more beautiful looking people to brighten up this place,” he jokes as he strokes his round belly.
The Radium does begin to brighten up when a waiter switches on the lights.
Seated at a sticky table, Manny tells the tale of how he came to own the Radium, and of the adventures his family has experienced over the past three decades.
The Radium Beer Hall is claimed to be one of the oldest bars in the City of Johannesburg. The Radium’s regulars tell their tales of the bar and their experiences with the Cabeleira family over the years.
An institution enriched with history
The Radium Beer Hall was passed down from family to family after its establishment in the 1920s. The Khalil family primarily ran the place as a tea room in 1929, and at night it doubled as an illicit shebeen catering to black customers.
“After the Radium obtained a malt and liquor licence, a Slovenian football player, Joe Barbarovich, and his brother came to own the bar in 1944,” Manny says as we sit in the dining area which was once a ladies’ section during Barbarovich’s ownership.
ABOVE: A sign written by Manny Cabeleira hangs in the Radium’s dinning area and reads: ‘People with feet on chairs will be bliksemed, overcharged, donnered and thrown out’ warning customers to act accordingly or face concequences. Photo: Tumelo Modiba
In 1971 Manny, at the age of 17, walked into the Radium for the first time one night with his friends, ordered a few beers and enjoyed the evening. Little did the Portuguese teen know he would later come to own the Radium.
“Years later I came to know Joe through my brother-in-law, and we then built up a friendship,” he says.
Having sold his fish-and-chips restaurant on Bree Street, Newtown in Johannesburg, Manny was looking for a new venture.
“Joe, who had early onset Alzheimer’s, was telling me how he wanted to sell the Radium. I told him, ‘Why don’t you sell it to me?’ Then he asked, ‘What do you want to do with the Radium?’ Then I said, ‘How long have you been here?’ Joe said 40 years, then I told him I wanted to be here for the next 40.”
In February 1986 Manny became the proud owner of the Radium. With arms stretched wide, one finger pointing to the many provocative newspaper headlines covering the bar’s stage while his other hand gestures to the bar counter that once belonged to the demolished Ferreirastown Hotel, Manny shows me the Radium that he built.
Meet the Cabeleiras
A photo of Manny Cabeleira’s uncle and father posing for a picture in Yeoville taken in 1958 hangs in the bar. Photo: Tumelo Modiba.
Emigrants from Madeira, an island located off Portugal, Manny’s family – with him aged five years old – arrived in South Africa.
“The first school I went to was Yeoville Boys. I could not speak a word of English, and I learned it very quickly,” says Manny.
“The transition from Portugal did not really affect me at all. I grew up here, went to school here, got married here, had all my children here and I have not left,” says Lina Cabeleira, who immigrated to South Africa when she was four years old.
Raising three children while owning a bar put a strain on the Cabeleira family.
“The hours were hard. It did take a lot of strain and the lifestyle was pretty difficult. I had to do everything on my own, take the kids to school and take care of them. Manny was a good dad and he was visible – but not enough,” she says with a shrug and a sigh while looking out of the window across the bar counter.
“We got divorced after 25 years, because I went off the rails,” says an apologetic Manny as he looks at Lina, who is seated at the corner end of the bar. “It was an amicable thing; not that she did anything wrong. We are still the best of friends and she is the mother of my kids, all throughout.”
Looking back at the drugs he took and the infidelity that cost him his marriage, Manny explains the dangerous lifestyle the Radium brought to his family as they grew older. He spoke about his brief drug use and the effect it had on his life.
“Miguel took my place as manager 10 years ago after I had cancer, and helps Lina to look after the place,” Manny says as he lifts up his shirt and points to a scar running horizontally across his abdomen and ending where his belly button used to be.
Manny now runs a bed-and-breakfast, where he also lives, located behind the Radium.
“After my health took a hit, I decided to take things slower,” he says. Manny comes into the Radium from time to time to check up on the bar’s progress. Lina says Manny still calls the shots, regardless of his unstable health.
The Cabeleira children had a family-oriented life, growing up in Glenhazel, Johannesburg. Their mother often took them to visit her family in Kyalami and they grew up with their cousins and other extended family members.
Mister Grey, a pet that belonged to a Radium regular has been dubbed by Miguel Cabeleira as “the bar’s mascot.” Photo: Tumelo Modiba.
Now in their mid-30s, Marco and Miguel have kids of their own, except for the last born, Deniz. Miguel is the only one among his brothers who decided to go into the family business.
What life was like growing up in a bar
“I was just one year old when my father acquired the Radium. This place has become second nature to me,” says Miguel as he sips on a bottle of beer before starting his shift on a Tuesday evening.
The first memory that comes to Miguel’s mind whenever he thinks of the Radium is the smell of smoke.
“I remember whenever you would walk in here, even if it was just for five minutes, you would walk out smelling like cigarettes,” Miguel says as he looks up at the ceiling, which was once green but is now dark grey due to the smoke interacting with the paint.
The Radium’s walls are covered with memorabilia that resembles a proud family’s living room: From newspaper clippings to old photographs of the Radium’s past, to the dusty beer bottles on the shelf by the bar. The Radium looks like a time capsule of the memories the Cabeleiras made with various people who have come and gone at the Radium.
Growing up, the Cabeleira children were never known as “the kids with a bar”. It was when Miguel was in grade five that he and his brothers grew popular at Glenhazel Primary School.
“A number of the Savannah ads were shot at the Radium, and that is when people started to recognise us,” he says.
Miguel Cabeleira stepped in as manager of the Radium after his father fell ill. ‘I’ve grown up in the Radium; this place has become second nature to me,’ he says. Photo: Tumelo Modiba.
“The people at the Radium are truly part of
our family”
Owning the Radium for roughly 33 years, the Cabeleira family could not help but make an extended family of their own there.
Chef Charles “Charlie” Mbamba, whom Miguel considers his “second father”, has worked with the family since 1994.
The Mpumalanga-born man worked as a driver in Mpumalanga, transporting vegetables, before he met the Cabeleiras.
“My older brother, Mario, in fact was very good friends with Manny. That is how I came to know them,” the 57-year-old said.
“Mario and Manny worked together at the fish-and-chips restaurant Manny owned in Bree Street, Newtown, and then they came to Louis Botha Avenue in the 1980s where Mario owned a store next to the Radium,” Mbamba tells me.
After acquiring the Radium, Manny added a few touches of his Portuguese heritage to the menu, Madeiran cuisine such as espetada and prego rolls are still served at the Radium.
“When I started working at the Radium I did not know how to cook, let alone cook Portuguese food,” the old man chuckled.
Manny taught Mbamba how to cook Portuguese food, thus creating a long friendship.
“I truly feel at home when I am at the Radium,” says Mbamba, who lives in Pretoria with his own family.
“He is like my second father. He would pick me up from school and even scold me whenever I got in trouble,” says Miguel as he embraces and laughs with Charlie.
Chef Charles Mbamba has worked at the Radium for more than 24 years. Photo: Tumelo Modiba.
The Cabeleira family have tried to cater to the ever-changing Louis Botha Avenue community, through the Radium.
“We try to serve the community by making this place as welcoming as we can. We want this place to make people forget the troubles of the world once they enter the door, and a place of friendship once they exit the door,” says Lina Cabeleira.
Yet the Radium’s staff members are the only representation of Louis Botha reflected inside the bar.
The legacy of the Radium
Like his father, Miguel has moved back to Orange Grove to be closer to his six-year-old son.
“My son gets so excited when he comes to the Radium, he even wants to be the boss one day,” says Miguel.
The lifestyle of owning a bar is not something Miguel wants for his son, however. Growing up, he barely saw his father and would not want the same fate for his son’s future children.
“I do have great memories here at the Radium, but it consumes all your time,” Miguel says.
Although Miguel and his son’s mother are not together, the 36-year-old does his best to make time for his son. Picking him up from school and spending time with him during the day before his shift starts are moments Miguel cherishes.
After owning the Radium for 33 years, The Cabeleiras are undecided on the future of the Radium Beer Hall.
“Who knows if we will be here for the next five days, let alone the next five years?” says Lina. Despite Louis Botha’s economic decline, Manny and Miguel remain hopeful of the Radium’s future.
As she sits at the corner of the bar, a spot always occupied by her husband, Manny, when he managed the venue and by her son, Miguel, who manages the bar alongside her, Lina takes a moment and says: “If I were to do it all over again [owning the Radium], yes, yes I would. I would not trade anything.”
Like it’s neigboring stores, the Radium Beer Hall has always been in the hands of different families since its establishment. Many people have come and gone on Louis Botha Avenue, the Cabeleiras hold each and every memory of the Radium dear to them. Photo: Tumelo Modiba.
FEATURED IMAGE: Manny Cabeleira, the owner of the Radium Beer Hall, a place honoured by the city of Johannesburg, says “the reason why I welcomed blacks into the Radium is that it was the right thing to do”. Photo: Tumelo Modiba.
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In Kliptown, Soweto’s oldest residential district, the Oushun family has played a significant role in the community for over 50 years. Peter Oushun has made it his mission to keep the art of drinking traditional beer alive. The 87-year-old man’s tavern remains the longest standing tavern, providing solace to the employed, unemployed, young and old community members of Kliptown.
“Kan ek ‘n plein een kry? (Can I get a plain one please),” a 66-year-old coloured woman by the name of Margret Wax asks the bartender. He passes her a one-litre carton of Chibuku plain through a small window with metal burglar bars. She shakes the carton, opens it up at the top corner, careful not to tear the paper fabric of the carton. She then takes a big sip of the sour, thick malt fermented drink and sighs in relief. A thick white foam remains on her upper lip.
“Chibuku must be drunk sitting down,” Peter Oushun says to her as she makes her way to take a seat next to him. He is the owner of the shop and has a habit of mingling with his customers as they indulge in drinking traditional beer at his tavern every day from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m.
It is 11 a.m. on Sunday, September 29. Of the taverns that are open for those returning from church services, only one is busting with life. Oushun Place on Beacon Road seems to be the place to be. Vibrant Kliptownian customers come in one by one, old with a few young ones, either ordering a Chibuku plain or the banana flavour which is the most requested by customers.
Customers sit on benches in the dark tavern with just the light from the sun making its way through the doorway. They sit in groups conversing and laughing about their stories from the weekend as if replicating the traditional customs of families conversing over a jug of traditional umqombothi. The tavern is simple and the atmosphere is peaceful. Everyone is laid back and relaxed, sipping their own “khathun” (carton) of Chibuku.
Margret continues to drink hers. She doesn’t seem bothered by the fact she is the only woman drinking in the tavern at that time. She has been one of Peter’s loyal customers since 1976.
“I prefer Chibuku more than bottled beer. Bottled beer is acid,” she says. Peter nods his head in agreement just as he is about to give a breakdown of how he believes that Chibuku can change Africa’s problems.
The 87-year-old man loves to talk about the traditional beer business that took him and his family from rags to riches.
SELLING SORGHUM: Peter Oushun’s family has made a living from the sale of traditional sorghum beer to the Kliptown Community for decades.
Beer built my home and family
To the left of the bartenders’ window, there is a black gate which divides the tavern from Peter’s home, in the style of many of the homes connected to businesses in Soweto.
There are two doors. Behind one is the storage room for all the Chibuku bought from South African Breweries (SAB), and the other leads to Peter’s home.
Peter sits in the sitting room on a green leather sofa watching the crime channel via his DStv decoder on a big plasma television. On the walls hang photos of his family and quotes about African culture and freedom.
A rotating fan blows cooling air, although he is dressed in a winter hat, black sweater and thick red woolen trousers.
“You know I started this business with just five cases in 1976,” he says. Peter explains that in those days, people didn’t want to drink Chibuku. “It was very low among the coloured people.
They used to call it kaffir beer.” He knew an Indian man named Chunara who owned a Chibuku store which was closing down.
“I am going away, coloured people don’t drink this,” Chunara had said to Peter.
FILLING FLAVOURS: The banana-flavoured Chibuku is the most requested by Oshun Place customers.
At the time Peter had just left his job as a vendor selling sweets on the train. He then bought the land and shop from Chunara.
According to Peter’s granddaughter and heir, Shoenelle Ogbonmwan, Peter slept in the empty shop for six months trying to protect it from thieves. It was the year that beer halls in townships were burnt down.
“I then went to Langlaagte to speak to the white man,” Peter continues. “I asked him, ‘How can I promote this business?’” The ‘white man’ offered him five cases to sell. “I went there to a coloured street called Pampam to promote it there, especially to young people, and it was sold out. I went back and sold 10 cases. I asked for more until I ended up with 5000 cases.”
One of the tavern employees comes in and asks Peter if he is ready to have his lunch. She brings him some biryani and beetroot.
A FAMILY AFFAIR: Peter Oushun poses with his granddaughter, Shoenelle Ogbonmwan, who will inherit the tavern, and her son, Amadeo.
“But, you see, people undermine me; they think ama-khathun,” he says laughing, as he holds a spoonful of food. “Everybody undermines me but they don’t know kanti I’m doing it! Do you see my home? Even my children in town have nice houses because of this business. I’ve got one who drives a BMW and the other has a nice house in the suburbs. It’s all because of me!”
Shoenelle confirms this when she says, “He bought me my first car, my first townhouse, because of this shop.” Oushun Place has sustained three generations: Peter, Peter’s daughter Shyanne, and her daughter Shoenelle.
The beer necessities
It is now 1pm. Different faces can be spotted back in the tavern, many of them elderly coloured men. They stare at me with bewildered eyes.
They seem to be wondering what a 23-year-old girl black girl dressed in polka-dot a skirt, holding a camera and notebook, could be doing in this tavern?
Marget is sipping her third round of Chibuku. This time she is seated at a table with two gentlemen, very quiet men who have travelled from Johannesburg to Kliptown for a drink at Oushun Place. I join them, and Peter joins us.
“You know, ever since I have been drinking this, I do not get constipation,” Margret says, looking at me with a wise, wrinkled face, and eyes with the irises circled with grey lines. Peter jumps in the conversation to add more benefits of Chibuku.
He has philosophies about them written up on the walls inside and outside the tavern. “Sorghum beer is good for pregnancy, breastfeeding and high blood pressure”; “One Africa One Hair, One nation”; and “Chibuku, one mashangane, the beer of Africa”.
n 2014 the Gauteng Liquor Board (GLB) introduced new regulations which significantly affected Oushun Place. One was that, “Taverns and pubs have been merged into a single category licence” and another, “Shebeen licence traders will only be allowed to sell alcohol until 10 pm. during the week”.
These were attempts to curb noise pollution in residential areas and to limit negative exposure of children and residents to beer.
Peter does not agree. He insists that because Chibuku is a traditional beer it should not have the same regulations as regular alcohol.
“Chibuku is a breakfast for blacks before they go to work!” he says passionately.
“I’m not selling beer, I am selling sorghum!” he added. Through this logic, it makes no sense for the tavern to open at 10 a.m. As a result of his belief Peter says he once had to sleep in jail because he refused to get a liquor licence.
“Oupa will always believe that Chibuku beer is natural. He even refused to get a licence because of that,” Shoenelle says. “We lost a lot of money because of that. They took away 250 crates every second day,” she adds.
Peter even wrote letters to the presidency. In one letter, written on May 20, 2009, titled “Promoting sorghum beer” and addressed to President Jacob Zuma he advocates for sorghum beer and its benefits.
Written in blue ink, and neat cursive handwriting, a section of the letter reads: “I was the one who promoted this sorghum through clinics, suggesting to them that it cures illnesses regarding high blood pressure and kidney problems as well as ulcers.”
According to production manager of United National Breweries (UNB), where Chibuku is brewed, Chibuku falls under alcoholic beverages because of its percentage of alcohol after the fermentation period.
“It produces a maximum of 3% to 3.5% of alcohol after 3 days,” he says.
“We don’t sell it as alcohol but because of the properties it has it is classified as that,” he adds.
According to a report from Eye Witness News in July 2017, “Government wants to tighten the screws on the production and sale of malt and sorghum beer, including traditional African beer.” This may cause further problems for Peter’s business.
However, after the jail incident, Shoenelle says they managed to “pull through” and finally obtain a liquor licence and Oushun Place became a big name with UNB.
“They [UNB] offered Oupa to become a distributor for the whole of Soweto, but he declined,” she says. She blames his decision on being very “set on his ways”.
Local vendor Johna Mabasa set up her small shop across Oushun’s Place selling roasted chicken feet to community members and some of Peter’s customers.Unemployed Sylvester Ntukela used to own a store which sold carpets called Bio Industrious. He likes to shake his chibuku carton for at least a minute before drinking it.Pensioner Margret Wax has been coming to Oushun’s Place ever since it was established in 1967. She is one of Peter’s close friendsUnemployed Khaya Phantshwa originated from the Eastern Cape to Johannesburg to search for a job. He often visits Oushun’s Place for a drink or two.Supervisor Bridget Peacock is Peter’s oldest existing employees, and she runs the day-to-day sales of Chibuku at the tavern.Maponya Mall Vendor Samuel Manona usually sells super glue and stickers on crown reef road near Maponya Mall. He can gulp down a carton of chibuku in one go.Domestic helper Samantha Anthony is often asisted by her son as she takes care of Peter’s house and tavern. She makes one of the best Briyani meals.Merchant Moses Chisi, works at a community center behind Oushun’s Place and enjoys the chibuku plain flavour.
Preserving African traditions and cultures to Peter is of utmost importance. But what’s even more important to him is his loyalty to his customers. They love Oushun Place. It is one place that they seem to get a break from all the troubles they experience. At least one community member thinks so.
A local security guard named Patrick Shongwe says the tavern is always packed.
Even in Soweto they do sell this drink but here [in Kliptown] it is very popular,” he says as he waits to collect his shoes from the shoesmith neighbouring Oushun Place. Although Patrick doesn’t drink, he is convinced that the community members drink as a way to escape from their problems.
“The problem is that they are not working, that’s why they can enjoy themselves. And it’s cheaper, unlike buying beer. So whatever they get, that amount they buy the beer,” he says waving one hand in the air while the other tries to fit his refined shoe on his foot.
Unemployment is a huge issue in Kliptown. According to the most recent statistics from Wazimaps and Stats SA, as of 2011, Kliptown’s unemployment rate is more than 60%.
This is evident as young and old people can be seen loitering along the streets. That’s if they aren’t Chibuku drinkers. “Crime is very rife here; you cannot take chances, especially at night,” Patrick adds, as he carries his shoes away.
Across the street from Oushun Place a woman named Johna Mabasa sells braai’d chicken feet, called ‘runaways’ by locals. Her stall is held together with torn cloth and wooden sticks, shading her from the sun.
Drinkers from Oushun Place like to buy there. “Ekuseni, nasemini, kugcwele kakhulu, and bayathenga amakhathun (In the morning, in the afternoon, it is always full and people buy the cartons),” she says, turning the chicken feet on her small braai stand.
Oushun Place is a source of business for Johna. She has been at the same spot for three years now selling BBQ-spiced ‘runaways’ to Peter’s customers as well as by passersby in order to support her two daughters.
“He was very strict, I used to read a page for R5 because at the time Barbie dolls cost R5,” Shoenelle says reminiscing about growing up in the Oushun home.
After Peter showed me the letters to the president, he took out from one of the drawers in his room a photo of Shoenelle. He stared into it like she was his prized possession.
“Everyone knows he is close to my heart,” Shoenelle says. “I’m sure they wonder how hard it would hit me when he is to die. He is my father figure.
If I have any issues I don’t lack with him,” she says about Peter. Shyanne, Shoenelle’s mother was a single mother. They moved to the city when Shoenelle turned 12. The shop continued to finance their family, taking her to the best schools and giving her the best education in the suburbs.
Although Peter would love for her to move back to Kliptown to run the business when she takes it over, Shoenelle doesn’t see herself living there. “There’s nothing there for me, sweetheart. He has been buying these flat screen TVs, and tries to make everything nice for me,” she says.
Shoenelle would rather stay in Johannesburg with her husband and one-year-old son. They have adopted the suburban lifestyle of the affluent Winchester Hills. “I can’t take my husband to move there, he has his pride and he has also built a home for us here,” she adds in a frustrated voice.
At the moment Oushun Place has been transferred to Shoenelle’s name while Peter continues to manage the tavern.
“All I am waiting for is for him to finally rest his eyes in the next five years, my dear.” She says she would like to keep everything the way it is so as to keep her grandfather’s legacy of Oushun Place: “One Nation, one mashangane, the beer of Africa”, and ensuring that it remains a place for Kliptownians, non-Kliptownians, the old, the young, the jobless and the employed to come and enjoy an affordable, thick, malt, fermented taste of Africa’s favourite sorghum beer.
FEATURED IMAGE: Peter Oushun poses with his granddaughter, Shoenelle Ogbonmwan, who will inherit the tavern, and her son, Amadeo. Photo: Karen Mwendera.
Local organization hopes to deal with the criminal activities faced by Soweto’s Orlando East. Young men such as Sibusiso Sithole intend to bring the change needed by the township through activism.
There is no crime in Orlando East. Tina Bhengu is emphatic. No serious crime, she says. An hour-and-a-half later, it will become evident that she had been referring to visible crime, the kind that is easily identifiable through visible scars and broken property, unlike the crime behind closed doors which she goes on to describe.
The only people giving the community a hard time are the young men, many in their late teens and early 20s. “I don’t know what substances they are smoking, marijuana or whatever. Last week or two weeks ago, I had to start locking my gate because I found them inside my yard. Many of them are already in jail but many of them still come back and do the same things,” Bhengu says.
It is young men such as these that Sibusiso Sithole, the community programme manager at Isizinda Sempilo, says the organisation is hoping to target through its workshops to deal with the gender-based violence (GBV) in Soweto.
It is a cold, grey Saturday in Orlando East, in a small, cramped living room of a house along Adams Street. Bhengu recounts an experience with an uncle who made sexual advances towards her and nearly molested her on multiple occasions during her teenage years in Spruitview.
Bhengu is a short lady with a firm voice and set facial expression that gives away very little, but is occasionally broken by a smile. She is a mother of one, and a grandmother of four, living in a small, dark house, in contrast to the many brightly coloured ones along Adams Street. Inside, the bright orange sofas and Bhengu’s four-year-old granddaughter liven the room as she plays loudly with everything in her sight and throws occasional tantrums that earn her a scolding from her grandmother.
“He would always ask the children – me and my cousins – to come and sit on his lap,” she says of her uncle. “He would even invite us alone to his house and I would never go because I did not trust him and I told my cousins not to go either.” She pauses briefly, sighs and expresses, regretfully, that she cannot reveal her uncle’s identity since he holds a prominent position in the society.
This uncle, she says, had raped his own children too. He continues to walk free because the family, including his wife, who are aware of this, do not want the negative attention that reporting his crimes would bring to them. Besides, his power and influence that extend to the police and courts in Orlando have made him untouchable.
END OF THE ROAD: Brothers for Life mobilises men nationally to contribute towards the eradication of gender-based violence.
The precinct of the square is buzzing with market vendors and hawkers braving the blistering heat, the consistent noise of taxis and pedestrians all bringing it to life. A railway separates this colossal site and the squatter camp on the other side, both appealing for distinct reasons to the tourists.
At the centre of the square is its most important feature, an enclosure with an opening at the top giving room for the sun to peak through and onto the engraved display of the Freedom Charter.
The organisation runs two major programmes dealing with GBV – Priority and Prevention as well as the Gender Norms programme. Sithole explains that, “The teams go out into communities and run these two-hour sessions and talk about the impact of gender-based violence.
They refer those who have been abused and need help. The second one, the gender norms programme, but the difference is that they come for two-hour sessions for ten consecutive days. They will sit down and face their own fears and then talk about them and then be referred to other psycho-social and other programmes.”
The target of these workshops are young men such as those that can be found playing soccer outside Bhengu’s house in Orlando East at 12pm on a week day.
They are held daily in Ward 31 Orlando East, are often found through word of mouth and the ground efforts of employees at the organisations. “The teams target organised groups. For instance, they will go to your churches and malls. Other times they would walk up to groups of young men sitting around playing dice and convince them to stop and attend a two-hour session.
Soweto, along with other socially and demographically similar areas of Johannesburg including Alexandra have been specially selected by the organisation for the roll out of its programmes.
The United States Agency for International Development (USAID), the primary funder of the organisation, chose these areas based on research they conducted around the country which identified them as areas in the most need of assistance.
The South African government provides some structural support. While GBV and violence against children are endemic in South Africa and not unique to Soweto and similar areas, they have additional socio-economic challenges including youth unemployment.
The most recent national annual report 2015/16 released by the South African Police Services (SAPS) recorded 33 613 arrests for sexual offences, an increase of 1 649 from 2014/15. The arrests for gender-based harm were 159 390, a decline of 1 268 from the previous year.
The police report goes on to outline four strategies to deal with the underreporting of crimes against women.
Among them are “Involvement of the community via community structures such as the CPFs and law enforcement agencies/force multipliers such as reservists, traffic police, etc. to join SAPS on patrols and to engage with communities to address contact crimes in households (domestic violence, rape etc.); conducting awareness programmes, encourage reporting by community.”
Nthati Phalatsi, a counsellor at a trauma centre, says that most of the victims that they encounter are children. In October 2017, an Orlando East school, a few minutes away from the Orlando East police station, was at the centre of national concern after allegations of sexual assault were made by over 80 pupils against a patroller at the school.
The man was arrested and charged with multiple counts of rape and sexual abuse. The trial which was due to start on November 1 was postponed till the end of November for further investigations.
Most of these are brought by concerned community members. In some cases, the children come on their own. Phalatsi was a victim of sexual abuse at the age of 15 at the hands of a stranger at a cousin’s house.
Years later as an adult, she would be subjected to physical abuse at the hands of her boyfriend and father of her eight-year-old son.
“I was beaten when I was pregnant. I was one month pregnant then and I thought that after that he would stop. I never laid charges against him.”
She goes on to provide a harrowing account of her ordeal with the calm and resignation of someone who has made some kind of peace with her past. She never thought to lay any charges against him.
She did not consider that a viable option despite being encouraged to do so at the hospital. “Now I’m able to tell people, ‘Why don’t you?’ because I’ve been there.”
The underreporting of crimes, Makhaya says, has also been one of the biggest hurdles to their work. “There is a feeling that nothing gets done and therefore people do not report and get the help they need,” he says.
He reveals that many victims of abuse that attend their programmes do not receive the necessary help they need after the workshops because they do not feel comfortable talking to professionals.
The organisation does not provide professional help for GBV. They recommend suitable candidates to the relevant professionals that some will forfeit.
The courts are where the final barriers to prosecution of these crimes lie, with many of the cases withdrawn before and during trial. In 2012/13, only 19 549 of the 92 161 reported domestic violence and GBV cases that were opened went to trial.
In 2013, parliament released its report on the ‘Statistics and figures relating to Violence Against Women in South Africa’ and identified the challenges to accessing statistics on violence against women.
“Statistics are almost impossible to access because domestic violence itself is not in itself a crime category.”
While the law requires station commanders, under the Domestic Violence Act 116 of 1998 to keep a special record of incidents in the Domestic Violence Register, this is not consistent across police stations. The register reports of each station are not accessible and not referenced in the national police statistics.
Bhengu reflects on the most personal witness of the human effects of a failure to report cases of abuse. Late last year, a friend confided in her about years of rape that she had been subjected to since childhood and throughout her teenage years that she had never reported and never confronted.
“One day she told me ‘I was molested me and raped at a time when I was still a baby.’ She said that this had been haunting her for years and she finally had to tell someone. I cried when she told me. She was my friend and an old woman like me, can you imagine?” Bhengu says as she tearfully reflects.
At the heart of Bhengu’s descriptions of the perpetrators is the common thread by which they are tied – “ordinary”. Ordinary or as Bhengu refers to them, “mediocre men from middle class families”.
“When this rape started, all the people who were doing it were mediocre men, people who were educated!” she says, almost in disbelief. Common, unexceptional, regular men. Fathers, uncles, teachers.
Men with no known criminal past for which they would stand out. Men who are aware of the advantage they had, that they were trusted. “This thing is so difficult because even real fathers do it. We have to be careful.”
However, she says, working mothers, by no fault of their own, cannot always keep track of and notice unusual behaviour in their spouses and children. She remembers a case that she dealt with during her time as a trauma counsellor when a child had been referred by a teacher on suspicion of some form of abuse.
This was not unusual. She had to explain to the child’s mother, an alcoholic reeking of brandy that morning that her husband had been responsible for abusing her child. The woman was initially in denial but gradually put the pieces together, breaking down in tears.
For Sithole, it was concerning that there were “not enough men’s programmes and information targeted towards men” in these communities. While that has improved in the years since he joined the organisation, he does not believe that nearly enough has been done to address the issue.
Like the people at Isizinda Sempilo and Phalatsi, Bhengu believes that it is crucial to have people in the community talking openly.
She believes that family and societal secrecy as well as the failure to effectively address the behaviour of young boys, are what have allowed this violence against women and children to continue in Soweto. She believes that many families are complicit. Often, she says, families prefer to keep these cases behind closed doors.
“In most cases here, if a child gets raped, they call it a family affair. The elders will get together and demand money from the man to keep quiet about the cases,” Bhengu says.
“They never used to talk about it but we have to. It has to get better”.
FEATURED IMAGE: Community members fight against high crime rates in the city. Photo: Files.
NOS foggers, split mags and dropped suspension are staples for drag racing in Mayfair; the subculture keeps local police busy and the costs are exorbitant. But the guys, and the girls, love it anyway.
“Neh hond, I’m going to jigga, this truck driver naai is wasting time,” Smiley says as he changes into reverse gear. Big G, sitting in the passenger seat, just nods like a mafia don.
It’s a busy Wednesday afternoon in Mayfair. People are pacing up and down the sidewalk on Mint Road and shop owners are sitting outside their stores trying to escape the heat inside. There’s a big soft drinks truck parked vertically across the road, causing drivers to honk their horns in frustration.
Smiley is among those stuck behind the truck. There’s a sense of urgency in the lanky 22-year-old’s body as he revs his 16v DOHC engine. He makes a U-turn and speeds down the road in the opposite direction to meet up with a client before he leaves the neighbourhood and heads for Soweto.
“We have to catch this ou before he vias to the kasi so we can get our cash,” he says.
Smiley needs money, fast. In order to make it to the finish line first at the upcoming drags, he’s going to have to come up with a small fortune. The Pioneer AVH-X7550BT 7” in-dash sound system with Bluetooth and USB that he wants costs R5 500. A new NOS fogger, to boost his speed, goes for about R500. And the 17” alloy wheels he wants will set him back R5 400.
CUSTOM-MADE CAR ACCESSORIES: Individual styles give cars an identity like no other on the road. Most of the workshops in Mayfair do their installations and repairs on site and services can be expensive. Photo: Michelle Gumede
He is not about to let speed limits slow down his efforts to get to the race prepared. Speeding down the back roads of Mayfair, he accelerates over huge speed bumps and takes a left turn at the sight of any traffic jams on the road before finally arriving in Riverlea after a bumpy 10-minute drive.
Usher in the igusheshe
A black BMW 325is flickers its headlights signalling to Smiley. He parks his white Honda Ballade behind the sleek Beemer. Known as igusheshe, the BMW 325is has been a symbol of gangsterism and cool in South African townships for years.
The two drivers simultaneously get out of their cars and sit on a bench where they discreetly exchange parcels. After a brief conversation, they each return to their vehicles. Back in the car, Smiley reclines his seat and fires up his engine. He lets out a sigh of relief.
“Dis duidelik,” he says with a killer smile.
His infamous bright smile, known to knock any lady, young or old, off her feet makes a brief appearance. His friends reply “Salute”.
Smiley turns up his ageing Pioneer sound system and Drake lyrics start to pump through the speakers.
“Started from the bottom, now we’re here, started from the bottom, now my whole team fucken here.”
On the way to the drag races near FNB stadium, the glow of lit cigarettes peer out of half-rolled down tinted windows. An evening breeze blows and brings much-needed relief to the three pals –Smiley, Big G and Corbin.
ALL-STAR CROWD: The drag races attract people from all over Joburg who drive all types of cars. The competition is tough as modifications vary from car to car. Photo: Michelle Gumede
“I just wish we run into that clown – Jumpstar. I want to wys him that ek is nie bang of his dom modifications,” Smiley says frowning.
He has an angry and competitive energy about him whenever he talks about Jumpstar – his arch nemesis. The guys compete about everything, clothes, girls but most of all cars.
Bragging rights, money and girls
Big G explains that Jumpstar and Smiley went to nursery school together. They were inseparable and their love for cars and girls developed over a long time. But their relationship turned sour when the boys fell for the same girl in high school. The lady known as Lynne was blown over by Smiley and they had a fast-paced teenage love affair, for a short while anyway, until Jumpstar came along.
“He slept with Smiley’s medie [girlfriend],” Corbin adds.
Annoyed with Corbin’s interruption, Big G says Smiley and Jumpstar will face off again, at a race that weekend—if Smiley can get some money together.
“They’re racing on Sunday and this ou needs at least ten grand by Friday to sort his car out if he’s gonna slat a win,” says Big G.
Using his skinny fingers, draped with golden rings, Smiley grabs a cider and gulps it down.
“Ja and my ou Big G is going to help me out with a nca [great] job next Thursday,” Smiley responds.
The winner takes the bragging rights, money and girls. Word on the streets is that Jumpstar has added some mean modifications to his car, including NOS and a new sound system. Just the thought of it seems to put Smiley in an uncomfortable mood. He grinds his teeth and bites on his thumbnail.
There’s almost a narcissism about the pride the guys in these parts of town have about their cars. Your car is a symbol of male pride, creativity and individuality. Motor heads across Mayfair and Fordsburg fight for status and quench their need for speed on the makeshift racetracks in open fields in the Johannesburg south. Battling it out on the racetrack like Smiley and Jumpstar is no unusual feat in these circles.
“This racing thing, it’s in my blood,” Smiley says.
SYMBOL OF PRIDE: Guys in Mayfair take pride in their cars, no matter what model or make they drive. Photo: Michelle Gumede
Flashy guys have a lot of exterior modifications on their cars. Bright red paint, window stickers, big bumpers, shiny spinners, personalised number plates and mean grilles while “silent assassin” types disguise their powerful engines and ear-piercing sound systems in ordinary-looking sedans that are deceivingly powerful. Smiley fits the latter description.
The atmosphere is buzzing in the open plot that serves as the racetrack every Wednesday night. The open field is nestled inconspicuously across the road from the iconic FNB Stadium. Although the gathering is illegal, this is not the most discreet of crowds.
Music pumps from every other car and the girls — dressed in sexy summer shorts, long weaves and skirts — dance and congregate around the more expensive cars. Vodka and beer flow as the guys size up each other’s rides.
The only thing that can stop the drags are the blue lights of the police. However, Johannesburg Metro Police Department (JMPD) officer Coetzee says that there have been very few arrests made but there is a R1 000 fine if you’re caught.
But few people do get caught. Coetzee said JMPD hires its cars from a rental agency and they come standard so it’s difficult to catch up with these cars that have modifications that allow the drivers to hit high speeds fast, leaving JMPD in the dust.
“Instead the crowd disperses whenever they see us coming,” he laughs.
There are a number of legal drag races in the Johannesburg area but Smiley and his crew prefer living life on the edge.
DRAGGING ALONG: The drag races are a huge part of youth culture in Mayfair and surrounding areas. Photo: Michelle Gumede
What happens when Jumpstar arrives
In a circle demarcated by old tyres, a Honda Civic revs its engine and does doughnuts. The driver keeps running out of the car, dancing to the medley of sounds blasting from the different vehicles, leaving the car to continue circling on its own. The crowd roars with excitement and the other drivers look on nervously. The guys try to keep their cool by talking smack about the sound the Civic exhaust makes but the girls keep on screaming as if they just saw Michael Jackson.
Half an hour later, another Honda Ballade, this one hot red, arrives and catches the attention of Smiley and his crew. The car has been pimped out with dark-tinted windows, yellow lamin-x on its fog lights and a super, low suspension. The driver revs his engine and parks in front of two drunken girls dancing and groping each other, forming sultry silhouettes in his lights.
It’s Jumpstar.
“I’ll go scout it out now, now,” Corbin reassures Smiley. He disappears into the darkness.
For the rest of the night, young and old guys’ cars continue to compete in the art of spinning and racing while crowds roar and boo at competitors. Smiley’s crew keep their eyes on Jumpstar. He’s chilling cheekily with his boys across the tyre-barricaded race area, just waiting for Smiley to make a move.
Of the more than 25 auto body shops that can be found in the Mayfair and Fordsburg area, there are only two that Smiley trusts to take care of his transie (car) – Autostyle and Domingos.
“It’s a fucking expensive interest or hobby; cars break all the time and parts don’t cost the normal prices anymore,” Smiley says.
Solly Domingos opened the doors of Domingos on Mint Road in 1941. His son Joe Domingo was the first “coloured” driver on the racing circuit during apartheid. According to website Hood Ride SA, between 1960-1975 Joe’s father spent about R2.9 million on Team Domingos racing as the team had no sponsor.
FAMILY AFFAIR: ‘Butch’ has been working alongside the Domingos clan for over 30 years. Family run businesses like Domingos on Mint Road are a common affair in Mayfair. Photo: Michelle Gumede
Autostyle, owned by the Mohammed family, has been a part of the Mayfair business community for 18 years. Autostyle started out as a small parts shop and now towers over the busy Church Street with two sister shops in the same area.
“You get from the oldest 80-year-old guy who still wants to pimp his car up and still looking for the accessories,” Zak Mohammed, a sales representative at Autostyle, says.
Both of these family run businesses have earned fierce reputations for their expertise and products. Smiley insists, “They have the sickest accessories in this part of Johannesburg.”
The day after having seen the improvements and modifications on Jumpstar’s ride, Smiley strips down most of the interior of his beloved Honda Ballade. It’s supposed to make the car lighter and faster.
He removed his sound system and mags that are due for replacement before Sunday’s race. “Eish, it’s standard and ugly,” he says with a sigh.
LIGHTENED LOAD: Stripping down a car to its bare minimum is one of the methods used to make the car go faster on a racetrack. This Toyota can go from zero to 100km in three seconds. Photo: Michelle Gumede
Zak recommends adding stance to any competition car. The stance is used mostly at shows and is not an everyday scene in Mayfair, but the motor heads love it as an added creative effect that can be installed on most makes. “Stance is like the new in-thing,” Zak explains.
It’s about modifying wheel alignment in an unusual way with your back wheels slanted out. “It’s a new modification where you put your back wheels to go into negative camber,” Zak says.
The inside of the tyre gets eroded while the outside retains its shine. Drivers usually have their own wheels for everyday driving when the negative camber goes back in and alignment is restored to normal.
Zak warns against even trying to do this on a daily basis as it’s not practical. “Your alignment’s going to go off and you’re gonna have vibration on your steering wheel.”
Car warranties compromised by modifications
Manufacturers don’t care much for modifications to their vehicles. VW brand specialist Mpho Sebitlo says it’s not advisable to modify your car beyond those provided by the factory.
“The warranty of the car parts is compromised and the car devalues even more than a standard car would,” Sebitlo says.
Smiley spends the next week working hard, making money with pick-ups and drop-offs to pimp his ride. Inbetween, Smiley makes time for his two girlfriends. The cute young girls don’t seem to mind that he comes and goes between them. Smiley moves between both girls, kissing and casually slapping their bums as if to assert his dominance over them.
It’s Thursday, the day of the big job, and the usually talkative Smiley is rather quiet, distant. He’s making a chicken mayo sandwich in the kitchen and playing more Drake from his phone.
“I want the money, money and the cars. Cars and the clothes. The hoes, I suppose. I just wanna be, I just wanna be, successful.”
Smiley and his crew are vague about how they make the money that funds their expensive lifestyle, except that it involves a lot of pick-ups and drop-offs.
Smiley and Big G leave town at six in the evening. He boasts on Whatsapp that they made the four-hour trip to Limpopo in three hours. Then, they wait and wait for the delivery vehicle on a deserted road outside a small village in Phalaborwa. Forty-five minutes later, their client arrives with a large package from Zimbabwe. The exchange is made silently.
The morning after the big job is tense. He needs to sell the goods in the package quickly if he is going to pay for the accessories and labour on his cars by race day.
It’s Sunday evening. After all the preparation, Smiley doesn’t race against his opponent. He says it’s been postponed to the first week of December. Smiley insists he doesn’t fear his opponent and the delay is strategic.
“There’ll be more people then ‘cos its mos the festive season, then I’ll crush Jumpstar in front of everybody.”
The delay may put his street cred on the line for now, but Smiley’s passion for speed, money and girls will keep him in the fast lanes of Mayfair.
FEATURED IMAGE: The drag races attract people from all over Joburg who drive all types of cars. The competition is tough as modifications vary from car to car. Photo: Michelle Gumede
The 2015 Rugby World Cup is underway in England, but how much do you know about the Springbok team?
Get to know the Springbok squad, their positions, test caps and some of the more unusual things about the men in green and gold.
Props:
Coenie Oosthuizen (23), Trevor Nyakane (15), Tendai Mtawarira (67), Frans Malherbe (5), Jannie du Plessis (70)
It’s a family affair for Sharks and former Cheetahs tighthead prop Jannie Du Plessis holds the record for the most test caps with his brother Bismark, also a member of the Springboks. Both brothers were on the bench at the 2007 Rugby World Cup final.
Another powerhouse player with a strong scrum technique is Tendai Mtawarira, aka Beast, who first played for the Springboks against Wales in 2008.
The Zimbabwe-born prop was so determined to succeed as a rugby player that he rode his bicycle from his lodgings in Morningside to the Sharks Academy in Durban despite being teased, according to IOL.
Tendai Mtawarira during the 2011 Super Rugby Competition when the Sharks took on the Rebels. Photo: RykNeethling, via Wikimedia Commons
Hookers:
Adriaan Strauss (50), Bismarck du Plessis (74), Schalk Brits (12)
Schalk Brits made his Springbok debut in 2008 according to SA Rugby.
This experienced player has played for the Golden Lions, the Cats, Western Provence, the Stormers and signed for English team, the Saracens, in the 2009/2010 season.
Despite Bismark du Plessis being one of the most feared hookers in recent seasons, the 112kg player also has a softer side which is evident after he told SA Rugby that his favourite movie is the epic drama, Legends of the Fall.
Springbok prop, Bismarck du Plessis, at Murrayfield during a test match against Scotland. Photo: Sahmejil, via Wiki Commons
Centre:
Jesse Kriel (3), Jean de Villiers (108) (captain), Damian de Allende (8)
Captain Jean de Villiers has suffered many injuries along his rugby journey.
In 2002 he tore ligaments in his right knee; in the 2007 World Cup he tore his biceps in the first match, and in the 2011 World Cup opener, he popped a rib.
But in November 2014, de Villiers suffered a sever injury when he dislocated his kneecap, ruptured three knee ligaments and torn his hamstring at the top and bottom during the November game against Wales, according to the Telegraph.
Jesse Kriel is part of another sibling duo with his twin brother Dan Kriel who both excelled in the Junior Springboks in 2014.
Victor Matfield (125) (vice-captain), Eben Etzebeth (36), Pieter-Steph du Toit (3), Lood de Jager (12)
Former junior Springbok who was part of the winning 2012 World Rugby U20 Championships, Pieter-Steph du Toit, was close to missing his chance of being a part of the 2015 Springbok squad.
Du Toit was all but ruled out after he twisted his knee in a Sharks versus Cheetahs match in March this year. But thanks to his father, Pieter du Toit who donated his own ligament, the lock recovered in time for the World Cup according to SuperSport.
Vice-captain Victor Matfield came out of retirement for the World Cup, and has played the most games for the Springboks with 125 test caps.
At 2 metres tall and thought to be one of the best locks in the world, it’s no surprise that this giant’s favorite movie is Thor, according to SA Rugby.
Victor Matfield (right) being lifted during a line out during the Lion during versus Bulls game during the Super 15 in March 2011. Photo: Tyler Yeo, via Wiki Commons.
Loose Trio:
Duane Vermeulen (32), Francois Louw (38),Siya Kolisi (11), Schalk Burger (77), Willem Alberts (35)
Siya Kolisi, who made his full Springbok debut against Scotland, is not only an excellent rugby player but also a family man who loves home cooked umphokogo (pap and amasi) according to Destiny Man.
Kolisi also told the magazine that he is currently working on getting custody of his half siblings aged 7 and twelve, whom he lost touch with when they were taken into social services care 7 years ago.
A player who had to overcome adversity is Schalk Burger who went into hospital to do a routine draining of a cyst next to his spinal when he developed bacterial meningitis according to Timeslive.
Burger fought for his life in intensive care last year and recovered to take back his place in the green and gold lineup.
Schalk Burger running toward the try-line in a match against Samoa during the 2007 Rugby World Cup. Photo: derivative work: Anrie (talk), via Wiki Commons
Scrumhalf:
Ruan Pienaar (93), Rudy Paige (0), Fourie du Preez (70)
Newcomer and Blue Bulls scrum-half, Rudy Paige, is a local Joburger who studied at the University of Johannesburg.
Despite being the only uncapped player in the squad, Paige is eager to prove himself at the World Cup, according to the SA Rugby Magazine.
The South African rugby union player Ruaan Pienaar at Murrayfield during a test match against Scotland. Photo: Sahmejil, via Wiki Commons
Flyhalf:
Morné Steyn (61), Handré Pollard (13), Patrick Lambie (46)
The multi talented Patrick Lambie has the rare ability to be able to play fullback, flyhalf and centre positions according to an interview with Club X. Lambie was also the youngest member of the squad the last time the Springboks were in the Rugby World Cup in 2011.
Bryan Habana scored his first test try in his debut for the Springboks and hasn’t stopped since then. The speedster who has raced a cheetah and an Airbus A380 scored four tries against Samoa during the 2007 World Cup.
Bryan Habana joining the South Africa Rugby World Cup 2007 Winners in a Parade on a bus. Photo: E M i L i A [2], via Wiki Commons
READY FOR ACTION: Number seven,Jaryd Povall and his Brother,number six, stand in front of coach, Mark Sanders.
THE NUMBERS three to seven add a unique aspect to the Wits hockey club.
The men’s hockey squad includes brothers, Jaryd and Matthew Povall and three brothers, James, Craig and Michael Daniels. Between them, they hold three to seven of the 21 jersey numbers in the team.
Coaches views
Do the brothers come as a package, or is it a coincidence that all the brothers were picked for the squad? Wits Hockey coach Mark Sanders says, “They’re all good enough. That is the only coincidence.”
Interview with the two sets of brothers
Wits Vuvuzela spoke to the two sets of brothers and, perhaps naturally, found some rivalry between the sibling groups.“There are only two of us Povalls, so at least we don’t need a team bus to travel to
games and training,“ says Matthew. The Daniels brothers respond with laughter, and Craig adds, “Yes, two’s a company, threes a party.”
The Daniels brothers say it doesn’t matter to them that the Povalls are brothers. They are simply two team members, the same as everyone else in the squad. The Povalls say the three brothers are dynamic, hardworking and bring good energy to the team.
Commenting on the Povalls, Craig Daniels said, “They are brothers too, so sharing that experience of playing with someone that is so close to you is always special – especially at the level we are playing…Them being
brothers just contributes to how well they know each other on and off the park, which helps.”
All the brothers believe that being siblings and playing as team mates brings a different feeling to a team. The Daniels brothers stick up for each other, but also realise each of them can stand up for themselves. They are brothers and team mates on and off the field.
Since people were asking about the Daniels brothers on Twitter, Wits Vuvuzela posed the question: which set of brothers do they believe is more appealing to the ladies. “Definitely the Daniels’…We’re a lot more fun,” says Craig with a wink.
Another player, John Tatham, also has two brothers who play hockey, and if they were part of the team, it would be even more of a family affair.
Varsity hockey tournament
The Wits hockey team will be looking to improve on this past weekend’s performances, which saw them get only one point from three games. They will play the second leg of the Varsity hockey tournament this coming weekend in Bloemfontein against Kovsies, Rhodes and Tuks.
GENERATIONS VOTE TOGETHER: Wits SRC President Shafee Verachia chats with his grandmother Fatima Verachia as they go into the Malboro Gardens voting station. PHOTO: Bongiwe Tutu.
22-year-old Shafee Verachia took his 86-year-old grandmother Fatima, by the hand, as they walked to the Malboro Gardens voting station early this morning.
The Wits SRC (Students Representatives Council) President, wearing African National Congress (ANC) party regalia, made it a family affair, as he joined his grandmother, aunt and brother at the polling station.
“It’s the first election where we are staying with granny so we have brought her to vote with us,” he said.
Fatima Verachia, 86, said in a trembling voice, “I am voting for the ANC, for Mandela, and his legacy.”
“Mandela?” asked Shafee,
“Yes, Mandela,” granny replied,
“And what about Zuma granny?” asked Zubair.
“Yes, Zuma,” she replied after a short breath.
Granny did not say much in words but her thoughts drew expressions of confidence on her face.
Verachia’s 62-year-old aunt Amiena Verachia said she was born during the oppressive regime in South Africa and the freedom that came 20 years ago was the reason for her ANC vote.
First-time voter Verachia says in his childhood he heard a lot of stories about the oppressive South Africa. “Hearing these stories drew an impact in our lives, and I think our generation sees that as something special,” he said.
POLITICAL LINES: Fatima Verachia, 86, accompanied by her grandchildren Zubair Verachia, 23 (left) and Shafee Verachia, 22 (right) to the Malboro Gardens voting station. PHOTO: Bongiwe Tutu.
“I think it’s because of my father, Hussain Verachia, who was in the ANC during the 80s,” said 23-year-old Zubair. He explained their father was part of the struggle and that may have influenced their granny. “There might even be something more that we may not know” the elder brother added.
“Personally, it’s about honouring the generation before me, they made the sacrifices for me to have this right to make this vote today,” said the SRC President.
Zubair Verachia begged to differ with his family on the matter of who they were voting for: “I don’t know who I am going to vote for yet”, he said, explaining that he had a problem with corruption in the ANC.
“At the same time I don’t think South Africa is ready for the DA (Democratic Alliance), as it does not have the empowerment for non-whites as the ANC does,” says Zubair.
He explained that his initial problem was, regardless of ANC’s reach to middle and working class people, most of the leaders in the party used a lot of money for their own benefit.
“I believe in what the ANC stands for, not what it’s become” he said.
Professional and ethical conduct are key to bringing back honour to the legal profession Justice Mbuyiseli Madlanga says.
Justice Madlanga made a call for action, stating that honour must be brought back to the legal profession.
The Book Legal Ethics in South Africa is the first of its kind in contemporary times as the last book was published 40 years ago.
A call was made for legal ethics to be made compulsory in the country’s LLB curriculum.
In the plight of unlawfulness, greed and rapid corruption that constantly dominates current affairs, as seen in the ongoing Madlanga Commission, the book Legal Ethics in South Africa is timely and necessary. The book seems to offer a glimpse of hope urging for a transformation that is rooted in prioritising legal ethics.
On 18 June 2026, Wits University hosted a book launch for Legal Ethics in South Africa edited by Law Professor Helen Kruuse from Rhodes University. The introductory remarks were given by Justice Mbuyiseli Madlanga, who is also currently the chancellor for Rhodes University.
Madlanga emphasised how ethical leadership, integrity and courage are essential for the preservation of the constitution and South African society at large. Additionally, ethics and the constitutional mandate of legal practitioners must extend to people beyond legal practitioners. “Legal ethics in South Africa must be welcomed enthusiastically,” he said.
Madlanga argued that legal ethics needs to be compulsory in the LLB curriculum nationwide as opposed to having it as an optional elective. He said, “legal ethics is not just about compliance, it is about understanding and making moral judgment.”
Madlanga said “ordinary people have a general view of how there is no honour in the legal profession… most people understand it as a profession where people do as they please.” As a result of this connotation, Madlanga pushed for people within the legal field to change this narrative by acting honourably and ethically.
The significance of the book lies in the fact that it is the first book of Legal Ethics in South Africa in contemporary times since the last was published 40 years ago, the book launch celebrated the very first edition of the recently published book. Yet, that is not all, an important aspect of the book is the manner in which it shapes the minds of current and future legal scholars and practitioners which directly impacts how law functions within South Africa.
Facilitator, Professor Helen Kruuse reminded the audience that ethics informs the broader social and psychological context, as she reflected on how the book itself is divided into three parts: Academia, Judiciary and Practice.
At the close of the evening, Klaaren noted that the book is the “start of a conversation, centering in ethical law.” Although the book is centred in the legal context and field, its existence may be a reckoning of sorts for those in the legal profession and society alike.
FEATURED IMAGE:Legal Ethics in South Africa book cover. Photo: LexisNexis Website
Scientology’s presence in Joburg is dubiously significant, what does this reveal about the city of gold?
Thank you for loving me
when I still tasted
of heartache and war.”
- ‘Happily Ever After’ by Nakita Gill in, Fierce Fairytales, & Other Stories to Stir Your Soul
The heartache and war of apartheid South Africa ended in 1994, yet, in that time, scars forgot to form, and opened wounds were left bleeding.
Poverty, joblessness, homelessness, displacement, neglect, disparity – these are all part of the picture of Joburg City.
In a metropolis with over six-million people, living in Joburg can be lonely, whether it’s the high life in Sandton or down-and-out in Hillbrow, even the widest of smiles can mask the pain of lost hope. Of being incomplete. Making community ever more important.
There are those who share a way of thinking, others who believe in the same god, some who share stories through music and poetry, and many who hold politics as their armour. All uniting with a feeling of belonging.
But what happens in a city like Johannesburg? A city with the collective trauma left by apartheid, a city where people are gasping for air as the tide gets higher? What happens when the curious case of Scientology makes its way into the city.
Scientology: the religion Tom Cruise made famous…or infamous
In life, at one point or another, it is only natural to wonder what your purpose is, where you are going, and who you truly are. These are questions you may ask yourself, your parents, someone you trust. These are also the questions that Scientology claims to answer.
In his book, Scientology: A New Slant on Life, L. Ron Hubbard, the founder of the movement, described the religion as “the science of knowing how to know answers,” explaining that, “a Scientologist is a specialist in spiritual and human affairs,” believing in the spirit’s connection to all things around it, including itself.
Are they really? Photo: Ekta Seebran.
Going to the chapel and we’re…not going to pray, because Scientologists don’t do that. Photo: Ekta Seebran.
Happily, immortalised in stone. Photo: Ekta Seebran.
The religion takes its lead from established faiths that are practiced all around the world, these include Christianity, Hinduism, and Buddhism, among others. Through these, it promises to guide practitioners toward attaining the goal of survival and immortality through repairing the negative parts of one’s life. In this effort, Scientologists practice a combination of mental and spiritual improvement counselling, including auditing and advanced training, which apply the principles and goals of the religion.
At the top of a hill in Kyalami, Johannesburg, rests the advanced training centre of Africa. Here, people from all over the world can do counselling and complete their training courses in the fortified castle.
Unbeknown to some, Scientology has come to gain a significant following in South Africa, with the Church of Scientology in Johannesburg being established in 1957, in Hillbrow, and later being moved to Kensington, which is where it can be found today.
Some may wonder why Scientology became so incredible, and notoriously, renowned. Is Tom Cruise’s celebrity to blame, did he promote the need for the religion, or is there truly merit in its practice?
Counselling your way to ‘you complete me’
Jade Lopes is a fourth-generation South African Scientologist and volunteers as a “Sea Org”. Sea Orgs work seven days a week, and are considered the most devoted Scientologists, dedicating their life to the religion by symbolically signing a billion-year contract.
“I think I did my first course when I was about five years old. I did a course called ‘Learning How to Learn’, and it was amazing because it gave me the ability to study from a young age. And then there was really a point in my life where I started receiving counselling, and this was probably at the age of 19 or 20,” muses Lopes.
…and cancel it! Photo: Ekta Seebran.
“During the counselling, probably on session 20 or something like that, I realised that I felt happier, like, stably happy, you know? It wasn’t like I had my session and then two hours later I’m back to being sad again or whatever it was. When I realised that I was more in control of myself, that was when I was like, okay, Scientology is it for me,” she affirms.
This counselling ,which Jade expressed such appreciation for, is known as auditing, and uses the practice of ‘Dianetics’.
Defined by L. Ron Hubbard, dianetics is “what the soul is doing to the body,” believing that our minds hold images of past experiences of pain or distress, called engrams, which manifests negatively on a person’s physical and mental health. Dianetics works to “clear” the mind of these engrams through reliving the experience in auditing sessions and letting them go, all in an effort to get rid of the reactive mind – responsible for emotional reactions – and bring the logical mind forward.
“Honestly, Scientology saved me”, says Sandile Hlayisi, the chairperson for the “Volunteer Ministers in South Africa” programme.
“If I hadn’t found Scientology when I did, I’d either be a very miserable lawyer or I’d be dead in a ditch somewhere,” Hlayisi considers, explaining that growing up in Soshanguve, north of Pretoria, he had a typical township childhood, which wasn’t easy, and that during his second year at UNISA, studying law, a friend of his called him.
Sandile describes the conversation as such;
“Remember all those questions you used to ask as a kid? On life, the meaning of life, the universe, all these questions you had in school?”, the friend inquired.
“Yeah,” Sandile agreed.
“I think I found a place that might be able to help you find the answers.”
With the promise of help, guidance, answers to live a better life, why wouldn’t you join Scientology?
Likewise, Kiran Dhiman, a Scientologist all the way from India, now living in Johannesburg, shared her story with Wits Vuvuzela. Dhiman said that she joined the religion because she was, “struggling in life,” explaining that it helped her to communicate with people and tackle her problems effectively.
The Scientology network, which holds a collection of media pertaining to Scientology, their teachings and practices, shares similar stories in their series titled, “Meet a Scientologist.”
Stories of people needing help and finding solace in the religion’s offering of counselling through auditing, and life skills through training courses. Hopeful stories, aspirational stories. In a city with a history of trauma still endured today, it offers a fertile ground to plant such seeds of hope.
You want the truth?
William Gumede, associate professor at Wits University, explained in an article written from a keynote he gave in 2022, that the challenge in rebuilding South Africa stems from the damage created in the wake of apartheid.
Gumede illustrates that development efforts such as building a democracy and growing entrepreneurship become stunted and replaced by broken communities, families, and an inability to engage thoughtfully in relationships, in the economy, in the workplace, and so on.
What the oppressors leave, Gumede explains, are human casualties who feel as if “the self has no foundation” any longer.
And here enters Scientology.
As I drive from Wits University down toward Kennsington, fear fills my stomach, and adrenaline reaches my heart. The religion is shrouded in controversy, “It’s a cult!” is the over-arching narrative. All I could think was, “I elected to spend the next four weeks inside a cult.” My sense of self-preservation must’ve escaped me when I wasn’t looking.
Upon entering the illustrious church of Scientology I was handed a questionnaire to fill out: name… age… what struck your interest in Scientology?
The question that stood out the most, however, asked what area in life I needed help with, giving options ranging from school or work to family or relationships. From there I learnt that the church offers courses, both free and paid, which promise to help you improve your life.
For Dhiman, Hlayisi, and Lopes this proved to be true. Encouraging all to not only engage in counselling and further training, but to join the religion as volunteers.
Through community work, human rights initiatives, and education programmes, Scientology in Johannesburg demonstrates its goal to “make the world a safe and peaceful place,” gushed Kiran.
One of these initiatives is known as the “Volunteer Minister” a free programme that comprises of online courses. According to the official Kyalami Castle Scientology website, “Volunteer Ministers are dedicated to assisting others not only in life saving situation, but also by helping individuals overcome difficulties in their daily lives.”
Dhiman further enthuses that South Africa has the highest number of trained volunteer ministers and leaders in the world, with 40 000 active workers.
In 2022, Scientology Volunteer Ministers were recognised for the humanitarian work they did during the COVID-19 pandemic. Among the work the ministers were applauded for, the group’s initiative to sanitise over 70 000 buildings stood out, this was recognised by the city, and the Johannesburg Metro Police Department. The group was presented with an award made of a bronzed pair of JMPD standard issue boots, for their efforts.
Beyond this are initiatives including, “The truth about drugs” programme, which is an education-based programme, as described by both Sandile and Kiran, which seeks to teach people about drugs in hopes that they will make more informed decisions regarding their consumption or experimentation when confronted with narcotics. From mental health initiatives and human rights to education in life improvement and spiritual enlightenment, Scientology promotes itself. It is difficult though to ignore the controversy held over the religion, and subsequently makes one consider the implications of such work.
But can you handle the truth?
Controversies and allegations against Scientology have dominated the narrative around the religion, painting the group as a money-hungry, exploitative, cult. Reconciling the evident humanitarian image of the church with the darkness of its portrait is conflicting, but one that cannot be dismissed.
In 2014 the church was taken to the Johannesburg High Court by two of its former members, Ernest and Gaye Corbett. The Corbetts claimed that the church failed to repay at R5,8-million loan, and were demanding a full repayment with interest, amounting to R16-million. Allegations against the church included secretive internal financial dealings, separating families, and unfair policies within the religion.
Earlier this year, the church was put on blast again for unfair labour practices and exploitation of workers at its rehab facility in Rustenburg, Narconon Africa. The case is still being investigated.
One of the earliest grievances against the church, was its use of ‘Dianetics’ as counselling, with the American Psychological Association and the American Medical Association dismissing Hubbard’s work as pseudoscientific, soon after the release of his book, Dianetics: The Science of the Mind.
This fact prompts the question: with the impact apartheid South Africa left, does the perceived harm of Scientology’s presence in the city of gold indicate an exploitable vulnerability in Joburg?
One suspenseful morning, I took my third trip to the Johannesburg Church of Scientology. At 12:45pm sharp I participated in the church’s offering of one free dianetics session.
My auditor first briefly explained the process, asked if I was comfortable, and then asked me a series of questions including my parents’, grandparents’, aunts’, uncles’, brothers’, and sisters’, names, ages, and quality of relationship. Though I answered the latter, I declined giving any names. An effort in exercising caution.
The hour encompassed me closing my eyes and being told to find my earliest memory of pain. From there, I verbally relived the memory, working to recall as much detail as possible, and once I did, I was told to let it go.
Now, doubtful and curious about the practice of auditing, I spoke to counselling psychologist and psychotherapy researcher, Kerry Gordon, who explained, “what’s important in psychotherapy is that there has to be a relationship of trust built, and we really take it at the clients pace, guided by how quickly or slowly the client wants to go into the traumatic memory, which is often fragmented.”
Gordon noted that though there is a similarity between the practice of dianetics and psychology with regard to working through trauma, there are complexities when counselling people through it, explaining that there are dangers to applying one method to all clients.
“Not all traumas look the same, you can’t exactly apply the same methodology or pace to each person.”
Scientologists are known to not believe in the practice of psychology and psychiatry.
When speaking to Hlayisi, he said, “The only thing we don’t believe in is when something becomes harmful for people, that’s when we have a problem.”
Explaining that, “everything has a place in the world, the only thing we have a problem with is when an industry or sector abuses their power and ends up harming the individual.”
“Why are you as a psychologist or psychiatrist sexually abusing your clients?” he expressed further
In the same vein, Jade explained that part of the issue is unnecessary prescription of medication, saying that “a psychologist can refer you to a psychiatrist, who can prescribe medication,” further advocating for dianetics by highlighting her emotional stability following auditing sessions, positing, “After years of counselling, does that person feel stable and okay?”
To this, Gordon adds a significant fact, “[In any psychological practice] one person is intrinsically more vulnerable than the other, which is why that accountability is really important, there’s someone objective to report me to. The process is open. It all gets documented,” she continued.
Thus, signifying a key concern with Scientology, it is plagued with secrecy and confidentiality, there is something unknown behind the paywall.
Hlayisi explains that they are legally obligated to report harm or potential harm, but what protections to the receivers of auditing have?
Gordon emphasises that without an ethical code, “there’s real scope for abusive power there.”
Joburg: A world class African city?
One of the qualities of a world class city is the strength of its global presence. Scientology’s presence in Johannesburg, and significantly the centre housed at the Kyalami Castle, for Advanced Training in Africa, exemplifies a significant placement in the continent. Joburg: World Class African City … Joburg: Gateway to Africa.
These labels mask the reality of South Africa, the reality that Joburg is still bleeding, the reality that if untreated, the wound is susceptible to infection.
Characterising Scientology as completely good or completely bad is something that I cannot do in good faith. Though, can we really be a world class city if our citizens are left vulnerable to potential harm?
FEATURED IMAGE: Claiming a place in the cIty, calling those desperate and in need. Photo: Ekta Seebran
African immigrants have long been drawn to Johannesburg, South Africa’s economic center. The city is a ray of hope for people looking for a better life, but beyond the city’s busy streets and dazzling buildings, the lack of integration and safety prevails.
Deep scars from xenophobic attacks in 2008, 2015, and 2019 underscore the necessity of communication and understanding in order to resolve conflicts between residents and foreign migrants.
Johannesburg’s economy benefits significantly from migrant-owned businesses, despite facing challenges in accessing formal employment and documentation.
Vibrant networks of entrepreneurship and support have grown in the face of hardship, and migrant-owned companies that employ South Africans and boost the local economy have shown incredible tenacity and will.
In a tiny salon tucked between cafés and clothing stores on a busy Braamfontein street, Privilege Jumo, a 29-year-old nail technician from Zimbabwe, leans over his client’s hands, focused yet very calm. Taxis hoot non-stop, and the air smells of acetone and hair moisturisers. Between brush strokes, Jumo shares his story, about movement, hustle, and hope in the city where he currently resides.
“When I decided to come to South Africa, I was seeking greener pastures,” he says, reflecting on his 2019 arrival in Johannesburg. He came to pursue his studies in engineering, but soon realized that surviving in Johannesburg required more than qualifications.
“The process of getting funding for my studies was not easy ,so I ended up dropping out”, he admits. Jumo set up a business after having trouble finding steady work because he did not have a work permit. He now runs a nail technician business, relying on word of mouth and digital marketing to get clients.
“To get employed in Johannesburg, you need a work permit. And the government has not been issuing them for quite some time,” he says.
Jumo’s words echo a widespread frustration among foreign immigrants who find themselves caught between legal issues and economic necessity. Many are forced to develop their own ways in the informal sector since they do not have legitimate work permits or residency status.
It is obvious that his story is a metaphor for Johannesburg’s informal sector, which depends on necessity and adaptability to thrive. Most citizens benefit from these small businesses that migrants have started because of being excluded from formal work.
Juliet Mashabela, acting chief economist at Productivity SA, an entity of the South African Department of Employment and Labour, explains the role of migrants in Johannesburg: “They create employment through small-scale entrepreneurship, circulate money within communities, and contribute significantly to local consumption patterns.”
Johannesburg mayor Dada Morero and mayoral committee members in the Johannesburg CBD, cracking down on illegal trading in October 2025. Photo: Nomfundo Zungu
However, their existence is usually politicised. “Data consistently shows that migrants are net contributors to urban growth, but in times of economic distress, they become target for unemployment and crime”, Mashabela continues.
For decades, Johannesburg has been a magnet for migrants, both foreign and domestic. People looking to improve their lives are drawn to the city by its economic prospects, cultural diversity, and relatively stable political system. Data from Statistics South Africa shows that about 1,42 million foreign migrants came to live in Gauteng between 2022 and 2025, with many of them settling in the inner-city suburbs of Johannesburg.
Professor Loren Landau, an international migration specialist at the African Centre for Migration & Society (ACMS), says migrant labor is key to Johannesburg’s formal and informal sectors.
“Migrants who contribute to the retail sector, service, and construction sectors are often overlooked by the official system. Instead of searching for possibilities, they work together to create them. However, the city’s promise of opportunities is mixed with uncertainty. Migrants are frequently caught in cycles of instability as a result of xenophobic violence, limited access to documentation, and limited economic opportunities”, he explains.
Xenophobic attacks in Johannesburg
Recurrent outbreaks of xenophobic violence have revealed deep socioeconomic divides that lie beneath the “World Class African City”, as South Africans – many of whom are unemployed and living in poverty – accuse foreign migrants of snatching opportunities, jobs, and homes.
During the most notorious outbreaks, in 2008, 2015, and 2019, many people were killed, and thousands were left homeless, their stores plundered, and their homes torched. Many of the victims were small business owners who had established their lives in Johannesburg’s congested inner-city neighborhoods such as Hillbrow and Yeoville, and in the township of Alexandra, migrants from African countries like Zimbabwe, Mozambique, Nigeria, and the Democratic Republic of Congo.
“I still remember the xenophobic attacks that occurred in 2008 like it was yesterday, just thinking about it makes me sad because I lost a lot of close friends and relatives”, said Hugette Mbombo, a 45-year-old hairdresser from Congo.
In 2022, under the banner of “Operation Dudula”, anti-immigrant sentiment reappeared in Johannesburg’s townships, targeting migrants, informal traders, and foreign-owned enterprises.
Siphiwe Ndlovu, a community leader from Alexandra, admits the conflicts but thinks communication is essential. “We must stop viewing immigrants as rivals. They contribute to the success of our communities by employing South Africans in many of their enterprises”, Ndlovu explained.
Instead of tackling the underlying causes of problems like inequality, unemployment, and poor urban planning, the government’s reaction is still primarily reactive, sending out police during flare-ups.
Although widespread attacks have decreased, xenophobia is still present in daily life. Immigrants report experiencing subtle forms of prejudice in public services, rental markets, and workplaces. “Sometimes you can feel it in how people look at you like you don’t belong,” says Mbombo. “Even after so many years, they still call us kwerekwere (foreigners)”, Mbombo adds.
Civil society groups and researchers point to economic frustration and weak governance as drivers of these tensions. With youth unemployment sitting above 33%, foreigners are frequently used as easy scapegoats.
However, Landau explains that xenophobia is not simply about foreigners, “It reflects a deeper crisis of inequality and exclusion. Migrants are just the visible face of a system that fails most of its citizens,” he says.
Integration in Johannesburg is an ongoing negotiation between acceptance and exclusion. Even after years or even decades of residence in South Africa, many migrants continue to face social and legal marginalisation.
According to research conducted by the Center for the Study of Violence and Reconciliation (CSVR), prejudice is not an isolated incident but rather is ingrained in South Africa’s system. It is caused by political scapegoating, unemployment, and the belief that immigrants “take jobs” from South Africans.
In truth, studies from the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) and the African Centre for Migration & Society (ACMS) suggest that migrants are more likely to create employment than to take it away. They fill labour shortages, open small enterprises, and stimulate demand in township economies.
Professor Landau attests to these studies, saying that, “integration does not only regularise their status. Without proper documentation, you can’t open a bank account, register a business, or rent legally. The system perpetuates informality.”
Migrants and the Informal Economy
The sounds of blow dryers mix with the chatter of clients and other street vendors as Mbombo moves gracefully through her small salon. Her hands are steady, talented, and sure as she braids hair. Each braid tells a story of strength, migration, and identity.
Mbombo came to South Africa in 2003 to escape the instability in Kinshasa. She had nothing except a suitcase and a desire to start again. “When I first came to Johannesburg, I didn’t know anyone,” she recalls, her voice warm but firm. “I only had my hands and the skill my mother taught me.”
Starting as a mobile hairdresser, Mbombo would walk from one flat to another in Hillbrow and Berea, offering affordable styles to fellow African migrants trying to make ends meet. She saved up enough money over time to rent a modest area that was only sufficient for two sofas and a mirror. That small beginning has turned into a successful salon that is very important to her parenting her three kids.
“I wanted to create something stable for my children,” Mbombo says. “Many people see foreign women like me only as outsiders or survivors. But we also serve as businesswomen, creators, and a part of our city’s history.”
For Mbombo, Johannesburg is a place of both opportunity and hardship. She discusses openly the difficulties of managing a business, such as xenophobic animosity, rent increases, and immigration visas. “When the attacks happened in 2019, I closed my salon for two weeks,” she remembers quietly. “People were scared. I was also scared. But I told myself, I’ve built this life here, I’m not going to give up.”
Her salon has since become more than a workplace; it is a small refuge for women in the migrant community. Between styling and laughter, conversations often drift to family back home, school fees, and dreams of stability. “We support each other,” Mbombo explains. “When one sister is struggling, the others help. That’s how we survive.”
Two decades later, Johannesburg feels like home, even if it does not always treat her as such. Mbombo smiles as she looks out onto the street outside her salon, alive with taxi hooters and street vendors calling for customers. “This city gave me a second chance,” she says. “It’s not perfect, but it gave my children and me a better life.”
According to Stats SA’s 2022 Labour Force Survey, Johannesburg’s informal economy employs nearly 30% of the city’s labour force. A significant portion of this sector consists of migrants who operate tiny spaza shops, sell food, fix electronics, and trim hair.
According to Mashabela, the city’s economy benefits from about R100-billion in annual revenue from the sale of goods, services, and rent from unofficial migrant-owned enterprises.Yet, few of these contributions are formally recognised.
“They are effectively invisible in GDP calculations and policy planning”, she notes. “But if migrants were suddenly removed, inner-city economies would collapse overnight.”
The administrative obstacles facing migrants in South Africa are immense. The Department of Home Affairs (DHA) is often criticised for its inefficiency, corruption, and restrictive restrictions. Residency, work permit, and asylum renewal applications can take years to process. In recent years, the administration has spoken more about “irregular immigration” and linked foreigners to crime and stress in society.
“Migrants become convenient scapegoats,” says Landau. “But blaming migration distracts from the need for broader economic reform and inclusive development”.
Rethinking Belonging in a ‘World-Class African City’
Amid such adversity, NGOs like theAfrican Diaspora Forum in Johannesburg, and Jesuit Refugee Service in Cape Town, provide support like psychosocial help, entrepreneurial training, and legal assistance. Through neighborhood markets, athletic events, and religious gatherings, grassroots projects often headed by migrants themselves promote social solidarity. These spaces promote intercultural dialogue and remove stereotypes. Although Jumo’s and Mbombo’s futures are still uncertain, they are not hopeless.
“Trying other cities is definitely going to be my next option,” Jumo muses. Mbombo still has hopes and dreams of sending her children to university. “I want them to have papers, education, and respect. Perhaps they may be referred to as South Africans in the future,” she says.
Their words provide a more complex conversation that the one that is often reduced to statistics and slogans. Essentially, immigrants are humans looking for dignity, not boundaries. Johannesburg’s reputation as a “World-Class African City” is seriously threatened by the way it treats foreign migrants on a daily basis.
Despite the fact that the city relies on variety and a strong economy, social animosity and laws that prohibit people from living freely in the city undermine its future goals. According to experts, inclusive migration management which includes access to documentation, support for small enterprises, and anti-xenophobic education may turn migration from a catastrophe into a positive force.
As Landau puts it, “The issue is not migrants. They are part of the solution. The question is whether South Africa is ready to embrace that reality”.
In the end, Johannesburg’s story is for everyone who lives in it. Through bravery, adaptability, and unwavering optimism, migrants like Jumo and Mbombo continue to influence the beat of the city, demonstrating perseverance, participation, and a common goal of creating a better life.
FEATURED IMAGE: A photo of a march and march protest against illegal immigration. Photo by:Nomfundo Zungu
The Palestine Solidarity Committee (PSC) holds Wits University accountable for silence on Israeli apartheid.
The Wits PSC initiated a campaign calling out Wits’ complicity in Israeli Apartheid.
Wits University has a history of activism against injustice but remains silent to the current conflict.
The PSC accuses the university of platforming Zionism through hiring decisions and by marginalising pro-Palestinian voices.
The history of Wits University is difficult to ignore as you wander through the halls. On every step, there’s a story; on every lawn lingers cries of resistance. As a student, one can take pride in knowing that they are following a generation of activists in an institution which refused to stay silent in the face of apartheid. Today, students continue to hold power to account, yet, with a key difference – Wits University is now the institution that is being held accountable.
The Wits Palestine Solidarity Committee (PSC) along with their supporters have carried out protests against Israeli apartheid for years, with students gathering, holding red, white, and green flags, raising their voices, calling for Palestine’s freedom. Following South Africa’s International Court of Justice (ICJ) case against Israel, the PSC called on the institution to take a firm stand on the Genocide. Though the university called for a ceasefire in Palestine, the institutions broader inaction on the matter was the driver of a much more cutting campaign: ‘Wits’ Complicity in Israeli Apartheid.’
Collage of PSC campaign posts. Graphic: Ekta Seebran.
From liberation to complicity
Affirmed by the university itself, Wits has been an ‘open university’ since its establishment. Committed to maintaining “a firm, consistent and vigorous stand against apartheid, not only in education, but in all its manifestations,” protesting avidly against the Extension of the University Education Act of 1959, which controlled the acceptance of non-white students into South African universities.
In the PSC’s letter of demands to the university, it was noted that while the university confirmed that they have not entered into any new agreements with Israeli companies in the past eight years, but, “are extremely troubled to learn that Wits remains implicit in doing business with Israeli companies, accepting donations from the Israeli embassy, and employing a former IDF officer as one of the University’s professors.”
Though the university stays silent, the PSC campaign alleges that Wits shows its complicity through key administrative decisions made.
Who speaks in our lecture halls?
Karen Milner is an associate professor of psychology at the Wits University; she is also the National Chair of the South African Jewish Board of Deputies (SAJBD).
Following South Africa’s ICJ proceedings against Israel, Milner published a letter addressed to President Cyril Ramaphosa. The letter outlines the board’s disdain with the country’s case against Israel, calling the 7 October 2023 attack, “the greatest tragedy since the Holocaust 78 years ago.”
While acknowledging the severity of 7 October 2023 attack, this concern, however, ignores the history that has led to the current genocide against Palestinians.
The PSC lay the groundwork, highlighting that Milner not only defended Israel against the ICJ and deem the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) Movement as antisemitic, but also dismissed allegations of genocide against Palestinians.
Wits Vuvuzela spoke to Milner who commented, “As an Academic I believe and advocate that institutions of higher education, and especially Wits University, need to be inclusive spaces, that foster diversity and welcome a multiplicity of views. I respect the views of students and staff with views that may differ from mine, and hope that others can do the same. My issue with the Wits PSC’s campaign is that it seeks to silence any dissenting or different opinion and is contrary to the values of our constitutional democracy and intellectual freedom.
“Shutting down and threatening Jewish voices in any environment, because they don’t adhere to a simplistic ideological stance, is deeply problematic, and antithetical to the principles of our university and our country,” she said.
In her concluding remarks, Milner expressed issue with the use of the word ‘apartheid’ in the context of Israel and Palestine, calling it “biased”.
But, for the PSC, Milner’s stance is not an academic one, but one that contravenes the Palestinian reality.
As South Africans we have the best front line to say what apartheid is and what is not apartheid. So, I completely disagree with that. I don’t think it’s a biased notion.”
Much like the pass system of apartheid South Africa, Palestinian movement in Israel has been restricted since the year 2000. According to OCHA(The United Nations Office for Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs), Israel has imposed additional restrictions across the West Bank and East Jerusalem, with over 800 movement barriers, since October 2023. These include checkpoints and roadblocks among others.
These barriers have impacted access to healthcare and food supply among others. According to an update by OCHApublished 28 August 2025, the humanitarian crisis on the Gaza Strip and the West Bank has intensified, with increased famine, loss of life, illness, and displacement.
“So, what is that? If that’s not apartheid, not genocide, please tell me what it is,” Hussain said.
Wits Vuvuzela spoke to Irfaan Mangera, Wits alum, activist, and educator. He said, “as an alum, I feel ashamed that an institution we studied at that claimed to be progressive and justice-centric actually is the opposite, and I think more institutions need to stand up. Apartheid in South Africa didn’t end on its own.
“Institutions globally boycotting South Africa, whether it was the sports boycotts where footballers weren’t allowed to travel, academic institutions that took a principled moral stance that said we can’t be inviting academics from South Africa over if they are complicit in apartheid, and that actually applied the necessary pressure to force the white government of the time to go to the negotiating table. This is what’s required of institutions today. It needs a backbone, and it needs moral clarity on issues like this,” he said.
Opposing narratives
Though Wits has withheld its voice, actions have impact. The PSC further implicates the university in platforming Zionism through the South African Union of Jewish Students (SAUJS) propaganda and marginalising pro-Palestinian voices, with PSC events facing surveillance, censorship, and intimidation.
In response to this allegation, Jacob Boner, Wits SAUJS chairperson, said, “SAUJS operates within the guidelines of the university code of conduct at all times. Our events also often focus on being inclusive and open to all ideas and fostering constructive dialogue. PSC events, by contrast, often focus on large performative gatherings where disruption is favoured over dialogue.”
He continued, “Zionism is also a core ideology and belief for nearly all Jews and, therefore, the call that platforming Zionism on campus is problematic is a call to denounce the right of the hundreds of Jewish students who SAUJS represents to freely express themselves on campus.”
Hussain spoke to Wits Vuvuzela at a Marikana memorial on 22 August 2025, on Amic Deck, she said, “Today’s event took me three weeks to get approved, it’s not a new thing, we’ve done it previously, there’s precedence.”
“We needed an electric source. Vida wasn’t allowing us to use the electric source. Why? Did they say why? Political affiliation. That’s literally all they said.”
Wits Vuvuzela reached out to leadership but are yet to receive a response.
Silence as complicity
Wits University, west campus view of the Great Hall and Library Lawns, overlaid by the Palestinian flag and facts retrieved from OCHA. Photo: Sourced/ Wikipedia [Copyrighted free use, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=98183122]. Graphic: Ekta Seebran.
The question that lingers at the steps of the Great Hall, then, is whether Wits will honour its history of resistance or let its silence mirror the volume of its part defiance. The answer to this remains to be seen, but for the PSC and their supporters, the echoes of South Africa’s history of Apartheid are heard in the Gaza Strip and the West Bank. Through this we are reminded that silence is, in fact, an act of violence.
FEATURED IMAGE: Wits University, west campus view of the Great Hall and Library Lawns, overlaid by the Palestinian flag. Photo: Sourced/ Wikipedia [Copyrighted free use, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=98183122]. Graphic: Ekta Seebran.
Since her announcement as the Democratic Alliance’s mayoral candidate for Johannesburg, Helen Zille has dominated national headlines. In this bonus episode of We Should Be Writing podcast, hosts Lulah Mapiye and Bonolo Mokonoto dissect a media meet-and-greet with the mayoral hopeful. From her extensive political résumé to her controversial public utterance, we examine why the Democratic Alliance has chosen Hellen Zille as their candidate for the 2027 local mayoral elections. Additionally, […]
![Tendai Mtawarira during the 2011 Super Rugby Competition when the Sharks took on the Rebels. Photo: RykNeethling from Melbourne, Australia (Rabodirect Rebels vs Sharks Uploaded by stemoc) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons](https://witsvuvuzela.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/Rabodirect_Rebels_vs_Sharks_5537191278.jpg-beast.jpg)
![Bryan Habana joining the South Africa Rugby World Cup 2007 Winners in a Parade on a bus. Photo: E M i L i A [2], via Wiki Commons](https://witsvuvuzela.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/Springbok_parade.jpg)
