Book of South African - Book of Women - Mail & Guardian

women 

Book of South African 

In association with

Foreword .................................. 2 

Editor’s letter ........................... 3 

EJ von Lyrik .............................. 4 

Evelyn Benekane ................... 6 

Lulama Qalinge ...................... 8 

Jane McPherson ..................... 10 

Catherine St Jude Pretorius 

by Verashni Pillay ..................... 12 

Hanna van der Walt ............... 16 

Bandile Mdlalose .................... 18 

Natalie Rowles ........................ 20 

Thelma Nkosi .......................... 22 

Postcard from the future 

by Jabulile Bongiwe 

Ngwenya ................................. 24 

Sarah Mosoetsa ...................... 26 

Pumla Gigi ............................... 28 

Thobeka Mdlalo ..................... 30 

Rike Sitas ................................... 32 

Mbali Nxonxo Zantsi ............. 34 

Lorna Martin 

by Martinique Stilwell .......... 36 

Thandi Mnguni ...................... 40 

Judith Kotzé ............................ 42 

In the boy’s club 

by Kate O’Regan .................... 44 

Sonja Kruse ............................. 48 

Liza Aziz ................................... 50 

Sindiwe Magona ................... 52 

Shamitha Naidoo ................... 54 

Tebogo Sehlabane ............... 56 

Mitta Lebaka 

by Gail Smith .......................... 58 

Joyce Mthembu .................... 62 

Luce Steenkamp .................... 64 

Zahira Asmal ........................... 66 

Sharon Pollard ........................ 68 

Hot in France 

by Charlotte Bauer ................ 70 

Kunji Socikwa ......................... 74 

M&G Editor-in-Chief: Nic Dawes Editor: Tanya Pampalone Contributing Editor: Denise Slabbert Photographer: Sally Shorkend Designer: Marcelle 

de Villiers-Louw Project Manager: Zeenat Mahomed Contributing Writers: Bridget Hilton-Barber, Charlotte Bauer, Nikiwe Bikitshe, Nozizwe Cynthia 

Jele, Mara Kardas-Nelson, Jabulile Bongiwe Ngwena, Kate O’Regan, Verashni Pillay, Kay Sexwale, Gail Smith, Martinique Stilwell, Dianne Tipping-Woods 

Subeditor: Pat Tucker Proofreader: Maureen Brady 

Check out the M&G’s Book of South African Women online at bow2012.mg.co.za 

Isabella Holden ...................... 76 

Regina Maphanga ................. 78 

Josephine Tshaboeng 

by Kay Sexwale ...................... 80 

Zodwa Madiba ...................... 84 

Marhoyi Zita .......................... 86 

Sylvia Simpwalo .................... 88 

Nonhle Mbuthumba ........... 90 

Davine Witbooi ..................... 92 

Bursting through the 

glass ceiling by Nikiwe 

Bikitshe .................................... 94 

Thuli Gogela ........................... 96 

Zuleika Mayat ........................ 98 

Sarah Munyai 

by Bridget Hilton-Barber ..... 100 

Marjorie Manganye .............. 104 

Faith47 ..................................... 106 

Theo Steele ............................ 108 

Sheila Flynn ............................ 110 

Contents 

Koketso Moeti ..................... 112 

Zamo Shongwe .................. 114 

Funeka Soldaat ................... 116 

Kirsten Goss ......................... 118 

Portrait of My Mother by 

Nozizwe Cynthia Jele ......... 120 

Sara Blecher ......................... 124 

Lilian Masebenza ................ 126 

Nomonde Calata ................ 128 

Sponsored 

profiles: 

Nedbank ............................... 130 

National Film and Video 

Foundation .......................... 144 

Eskom .................................... 145 

National Development 

Agency .................................. 146 

SAS Institute ........................ 151 

Index ...................................... 152 

This year’s Book of South African Women is dedicated to Sudley Adams, whose extraordinary passion and integrity will continue to be an inspiration to all who knew her.

foreword 

2 Book of South AfrICAn women 2012 

for the sixth consecutive year 

Nedbank Group is honoured to be 

associated with the Mail & Guardian 

Book of South African Women, which 

recognises and celebrates South 

Africa’s exceptional women. 

During this time recognition of the 

need for greater levels of gender equity 

in all facets of South African society has 

continued to gain traction. While progress 

remains slow it is heartening to see that the 

walls of discrimination and inequality are 

steadily being dismantled and that South 

Africa is gradually transforming to become 

the equal opportunity country it should be. 

Importantly, this transformation is not 

being achieved by a few individuals in 

powerful positions, but is the result of the 

continued efforts and determination of 

courageous South Africans who believe 

in the importance of equality and wish 

to see all members of our society — men 

and women — given the opportunity to 

achieve their dreams and goals and make a 

positive contribution. 

It is against this backdrop of collective 

empowerment that Nedbank Group is particularly 

pleased to sponsor this year’s Mail 

& Guardian Book of South African Women, 

which not only focuses on the extraordinary 

achievements of a few women, but 

also celebrates the fact that all women are 

extraordinary. 

Of course, a history of gender inequity is 

not unique to South Africa and correcting 

the painful legacy of female repression 

remains a significant challenge for the vast 

majority of countries around the globe. 

But the exceptional people featured in 

the pages of this publication are living 

proof of just what can be achieved by the 

world’s strong, determined, passionate and 

talented women, irrespective of the odds 

that may be stacked against them. 

So, although this book is first and 

foremost a celebration of our country’s 

women, it is also a rallying cry for more 

work to be done. I have every confidence 

that, together, we will succeed at creating 

an equitable country with a brighter, better 

future for all. 

Abe Thebyane 

Nedbank Group 

Executive: Human Resources

the Mail & Guardian Book of South 

African Women was launched 

seven years ago as a tribute to 

women at the top of their fields. 

It was a little black book featuring 

some of the best and brightest women 

in the country — a testament, a guide, 

a marker of their great achievements, of 

what could be done. It served its purpose 

throughout the years, showcasing women 

leaders with brief profiles and contact 

details as a way of putting women in the 

front and centre of all society’s domains, 

from the private to the public sector as well 

as in civil society. 

The book has evolved in the past few 

years. Our design improved, we added 

longer profiles, introduced essays and 

sourced more beautiful photographs. But 

despite those changes we sensed that 

something was missing. The women who 

were leading the country tended, with a 

few exceptions, to be the same women 

we recognised year in and year out. These 

women had made their mark — there was 

no denying that — and the Book of South 

African Women was there to acknowledge 

their great strides. But we thought it was 

time to take a detour, to celebrate ordinary 

women doing extraordinary things. 

They weren’t hard to find. They were 

right here, in our offices, our communities, 

our cities, our rural areas. They were 

running crèches, big and small businesses 

and health centres. They were creating art, 

performing theatre, educating themselves 

and uplifting those around them. 

With the help of readers’ nominations 

and our research team we compiled a 

staggering list of women who achieve 

the impossible, frequently with few or no 

resources, just a dream of what might be 

done. Then we had to whittle down our 

list carefully so we could present to you a 

well-crafted book that offers a glimpse of 

some of the most inspiring women in our 

country: raw, unplugged and beautiful in all 

their glory. 

Celebrated portrait photographer Sally 

Shorkend worked with designer Marcelle 

de Villiers-Louw and our all-woman team of 

researchers, editors and writers to create a 

brand-new look and direction for the 2012 

Book of South African Women. We hope you 

love it as much as we do. 

Tanya Pampalone 

Editor, Book of South African Women 

editor’s letter 

Book of South AfrICAn women 2012 3

‘‘ 

e J von Lyrik 

musician 

People tend to think in boxes. when people who don’t know my music 

meet me for the first time they assume that because I am a so-called 

coloured woman from the Cape I sing jazz, gospel or r&B. It takes them 

by surprise that I can rap and do ragamuffin, or that I am a woman 

and can produce music with computer software! 

’’ 

E J von Lyrik is a vocalist, performer, music composer and songwriter producing a mix of funk, rock, 

dancehall, hip-hop and roots reggae. Her thought-provoking lyrics aim to uplift and inspire. 

4 Book of South AfrICAn women 2012



the walls of Evelyn Benekane’s house 

are built with more than bricks. The 

mortar that holds them together 

was mixed with courage, the foundations 

dug with determination and 

each room was carefully negotiated. 

Benekane’s home is one of the nearly 2 000 

units that will eventually make up the Joe Slovo 

development near Port Elizabeth. Through her 

leadership and advocacy work she will have 

helped to build them all. 

“I have been homeless. I have lived in a shack,” 

says Benekane, explaining how she came to 

head the grassroots Federation of the Urban 

and Rural Poor in the Eastern Cape, the group 

responsible for a process that is recognised as a 

model for community-led development. 

“I’ve always been a leader, even when I was 

unemployed. My passion is to help women come 

together, negotiate and save, because that is how 

evelyn Benekane 

Community activist 

women will be able to build better homes and 

better lives for themselves and their children.” 

The importance of a home was evident 

to Benekane from an early age. Her family 

was poor, but rather than move from East 

London to look for work, her father opted 

to remain in the home they had. This meant 

Evelyn had to drop out of school. But she was 

not discouraged. “I was inspired by the way I 

grew up. People helped us and that’s how 

we survived.” As a result, she says, “I don’t see 

myself, I see people that need help.” 

When she moved from East London to 

Port Elizabeth to look for work she stayed in 

an informal settlement, Veeplaas, where she 

participated in NGO-led training programmes. 

She was impressed by the idea that women, 

in particular, need to be involved in their own 

development. In 1994 the people of Veeplaas 

began a community savings scheme. Next, 

they identified land and started negotiations 

with the council to secure it for housing. Things 

stalled and, in 1996, the community decided to 

move on to the land, which had been vacant 

for more than 50 years, and negotiate later. 

The negotiations — with the landowner, the 

municipality, the department of land affairs 

and other stakeholders — were successful and 

the Joe Slovo informal settlement was established 

in 1997, with 1 950 housing sites. 

“Today we’re still negotiating,” laughs 

Benekane, “but now it’s with engineers about 

construction and design.” 

There is still a lot of work to be done, but success 

with Joe Slovo has shown that communities 

can indeed meet government half way. 

“A home is an anchor: it’s the stability 

that can help you find a job and it can mean 

privacy, peace and protection from abuse. A 

home gives us hope,” says Benekane. 


‘‘ 

Lulama Qalinge 

Professor 

my mother used to say, ‘I don’t have anything to give you, but I will help you study 

as far as you want to go.’ these words are a guiding force in my life. You should not 

hold back if you feel that what you want to do develops you. once you have done 

something to grow as a person no one can take it away. Don’t talk yourself down and 

don’t let where you come from impinge on who you are or who you want to be. tell 

yourself you are worth it and take every opportunity you can to learn and grow. 

’’ 

Professor Lulama Qalinge chairs the social work department of the University of South Africa. She is former 

director and acting dean of the faculty of human and social sciences at North-West University. 




‘‘ 

Jane mcPherson 

Agriculturalist 

I have a passion for unity in agriculture in South Africa and an innate 

sense of abundance. there is enough land for all of us. we’re all 

only borrowing it, so we have to look after it and help people to use 

whatever land they have access to so that they have more today 

than they had yesterday. Invest in a farmer as a person and, if 

you’re successful, soon they won’t need you anymore. 

’’ 

Jane McPherson is co-ordinator of Grain SA’s impressive farmer development programme, 

which helps thousands of farmers to contribute to household and national food security. 



rapper 

for a woman with such feminine features 


makes a surprisingly convincing man. 

She jams a baseball cap over her 

long dreads, hides her petite frame 

beneath a baggy T-shirt and waistcoat and 

slings a heavy silver chain around her neck. A 

pair of bling rapper sunglasses disguises the 

most striking features of her face, her laughing, 

almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones. 

Suddenly St Jude is transformed into St Dude, 

a Lil Wayne-inspired faux gangster rapper and, 

probably, Cape Town’s first drag king. 

It’s Friday night and time for her regular 

performance at Bubbles Bar in Green Point, 

usually the preserve of drag acts of the stiletto 

and fishnet stockings variety. One such queen, 

her blonde hair teased back and purple eye 

shadow glittering, introduces Pretorius’s male 

alter ego on stage, pausing over the words 


“drag king” as if savouring their novelty. The 

bass-heavy backtrack starts and Pretorius is 

off, dropping rapid rhymes and punching the 

air as if she’s been doing this for years instead 

of barely six months. 

A few hours earlier she had been the picture 

of femininity, cuddling a little girl on her lap in 

a Khayelitsha care centre as she read to a group 

of children in broken isiXhosa, a language she 

picked up in bits and pieces from her cousins. 

“I identify as gender queer, which means 

that I don’t feel like I fall into the binary of male 

and female,” Pretorius tells me. “So St Dude is 

important to me, because I feel I can explore 

my masculinity.” 

What began as something of a challenge 

on a blog asking why Cape Town had no drag 

kings has turned Pretorius into a popular local 

figure. A week or two after reading the blog 

she downloaded a few backtracks, wrote her 

own mock-misogynistic lyrics and performed 

in her first drag show. A long-time rap fan — 

“She listens to it all day,” her girlfriend tells me 

— she found a way to reconcile her drag king 

persona with her feminist beliefs. 

At just 22 Pretorius has remarkable drive 

and passion. Besides her drag act and attendant 

drag troupe she helps to co-ordinate 

events for her friend Lara Aucamp’s organisation, 

Cape Town Lesbians (CTL), pens a popular 

blog — writing seriously and humorously 

on gender and queer issues — and works at 

the Ebenezer Educare Centre for children in 

Khayelitsha, which she is trying to get accredited 

with government as an early childhood 

development centre to help it to access funds 

and training support more effectively. 

“I’m a human rights activist first,” she tells 

me as we drive over the grey stretch of Cape 

Town’s N2 highway toward the township care


‘‘ 

I identify as gender queer, which means that 

I don’t feel like I fall into the binary of male 

and female, so St Dude is important to me, 

because I feel I can explore my masculinity. 

’’ 


centre. “I respond to whatever needs I can.” 

And that was the origin of her drag troupe: 

when she saw how rapidly she gained popularity 

she realised that other women battling 

with gender roles could do with the same sort 

of catharsis. She is also hoping to start a support 

group for bursary students, a response to 

her recognition that there is nobody helping 

them to deal with their day-to-day challenges. 

As a former bursary student from a workingclass 

background, she’s well placed to do this. 

“No one tracked me at university. It could 

have gone wrong,” she says. And she wants to 

make sure that doesn’t happen to others. “I see 

myself as a bridge,” says Pretorius, a phrase she 

repeats several times during our time together 

and which emerges clearly in all her roles. She 

has positioned herself to play a powerful connecting 

role in various complex situations. 

Growing up in a mixed-race family — her 

parents fell into the apartheid race categories 

of black and coloured — Pretorius faced prejudice 

in Matroosfontein, the “coloured area” in 

Cape Town where she grew up. “We got called 

the k-word a lot,” she says. 

Then she was sent to a mostly white school 

and went on to the University of Cape Town, 

where she studied politics and public policy. 

After an incident in which racist accusations 

were levelled at CTL, Pretorius set out to bridge 

the race and class divide in the city’s gay community, 

organising free events that are held 

during the day in order to attract more people. 

When she started working at the care centre 

in Khayelitsha she discovered the children’s 

caregivers watched soap operas all day, forcing 

the children to do the same. She started 

gently introducing better practices, being 

careful to avoid coming across as disrespectful. 

“I feel if I do things a certain way it may 

inspire them to change,” she says. She’s 

noticed the difference: the women no longer 

throw away the children’s art or brush them 

off when they speak and the soap operas have 

been replaced with educational programmes. 

She also acts as a bridge between the highlevel 

donors and management that fund the 

NGO and those on the ground doing the work. 

Her pragmatic approach characterises 

much of what she does, and her talent for 

gathering people around her, for being a natural 

connecter and her can-do attitude when 

faced with a need speaks more loudly than 

any activist jargon. 

“You need someone who can be the social 

glue that sticks everyone together and Catherine 

is very good at that,” says Aucamp, who 

credits her friend with keeping CTL going 

when she was at a low point after the accusations 

of racism. “She’s good at making people 

feel at ease.” 

Pretorius’s devoutly Catholic parents struggled 

when she came out as a lesbian at 15, 

but they were very supportive, as are her four 

brothers. “They love me very much,” she says 

simply. And it is this simplicity, and a disarming 

humility, that makes her particularly endearing. 

There is no chip on her shoulder about her 

identity or struggles, merely an infectious passion 

and joy in engaging with others and the 

world around her. Her sparkling eyes light up 

when she talks and her face is almost always 

wreathed in a gap-toothed smile. 

Her particular interests are women, children 

and education and she hopes to have her own 

NGO working in those areas by the time she’s 

30. “But first I want to learn from others.” Given 

her success rate at achieving her goals it won’t 

be hard. 

She didn’t let her lack of formal training or 

experience stand in the way of starting to rap, 

wading through red tape to get the care centre 

accredited or even reading in isiXhosa to a 

group of children. 

“That’s the thing that I love about Catherine,” 

says Aucamp. “She realises she can do 

just about anything. A lot of those things are 

accessible to anyone but they just don’t bother 

doing them. Catherine, because she’s so passionate 

and because she realises you can do 

anything you set your mind to, just does it. She 

won’t say: ‘Oh, I think it’ll be nice to become a 

drag king rapper’, she goes out there and does 

it. When I see Catherine being able to do things 

I stop and think: actually, I can do them too.” 

Pretorius has one simple reason for what 

she does. “I believe everyone has a responsibility 

to help other people. I believe that’s 

the point of life. That’s why I have ‘channel of 

peace’ tattooed on my arm. It’s my mantra; my 

life motto.” — Verashni Pillay 

Verashni Pillay is the deputy editor 

of Mail & Guardian Online 



Visit the Vlaklaagte farming area 

outside Swartruggens in the North 

West Province on any New Year’s 

day and you will find the entire 

community occupied with boeresport 

(farmers’ games) — jukskei, driebeenresies, 

kruiwastoot and toutrek — a scene that seems 

to contradict farming’s increasing association 

with insecurity, racial conflict and murder. 

No single person cements an agricultural 

community but there are those without whom 

the community bond would be tenuous and, 

in Vlaklaagte, that person is Hanna van der Walt, 

cattle farmer and chair of the local farm watch. 

Van der Walt was born in 1961 in Gobabis, 

Namibia — cattle country, or at least that’s 

what’s written on the sign that accompanies the 

statue of a Brahman at the entrance to the town. 

When she was four her family moved to 

Wildebeesheuwel, a farm near Swartruggens, 

hanna van der walt 

Cattle farmer 

and there Hanna developed her passion for 

cattle farming. She was, she says, her father’s 

“little shadow; he taught me valuable lessons, 

not only in farming but in life, in humanity”. In 

1984 she bought seven head of cattle from 

her father and today she runs a 200-strong 

herd, a business that near-neighbour Stephan 

Naudé says requires passion, nerve and faith, 

attributes that also serve Van der Walt well in 

her role as chair of the Vlaklaagte Farm Watch. 

The farm watch was formed in 1994, the end of 

a political era that had favoured white farmers. In 

the area surrounding Swartruggens the collapse 

of rural security coincided with increased mining 

activity to produce a surge in crime. 

In 1998 Van der Walt and her family were 

attacked while driving home after a rugby game. 

Shots were fired, one of which struck her daughter 

in the leg. Fellow farmers responded quickly 

and caught the assailants, but Van der Walt, 

realising that more could be done to improve 

security in the area, took over as chairperson of 

the farm watch. It soon became apparent that 

she had a gift for community mobilisation and 

an aptitude for the security work itself. 

With Van der Walt at the helm there hasn’t 

been a single violent farm attack in Vlaklaagte 

for 13 years and, thanks to the relationships she 

has fostered with local and provincial police, 

80% of all farm crimes are solved. 

True to character, Van der Walt credits the 

community — “I’ve done nothing on my 

own” — and quietly accounts for her own 

inexhaustible drive with a heart-breaking story. 

“My son died, aged 16, of Fanconi anaemia, 

and when he was lying on his death bed I 

asked him how he could love Jesus if he could 

not see him. He replied by saying that by 

loving your neighbour, you love him — these 

words of his give me power to keep going.” 


‘‘ 

Bandile mdlalose 

Activist 

normally it is seen that the poor are poor in mind and that everything 

needs to be thought for us. But poverty is not stupidity; it is a lack of 

money. And we always remind people that the same system that 

made the rich rich has made the poor poor. we are still fighting to insist 

that there should be nothing for us without us. no one has a right to 

make decisions for us while we still have a mouth and mind to use. 

’’ 

Bandile Mdlalose is secretary general of Abahlali baseMjondolo (Shack-dwellers’ Movement) — the largest 

social movement in post-apartheid South Africa. She is committed to fighting for the right to dignity for all. 




‘‘ 

natalie rowles 

housewife 

nothing makes me happier than seeing a tree growing in 

a schoolyard. All children should have a little tree to grow, 

to measure themselves against and to mark the years 

as they pass by. It will help them to develop a green habit 

of mind and appreciate mother earth’s natural bounty. 

’’ 

Natalie Rowles, originator of Free Trees for Schools, has been widely recognised for her efforts to green her community in Pinetown and 

KwaZulu-Natal, including growing and donating thousands of yellowwood saplings to schools, municipalities and reforestation projects. 


‘‘ 

thelma nkosi 

Community co-ordinator 

People at grassroots level need to be involved in 

the discussion about mining and forestry and how 

it can affect their water systems, otherwise their 

rights get trampled over. we are all destroyed if our 

environment is destroyed. Life revolves around water. 

’’ 

Thelma Nkosi is community co-ordinator for Geasphere, an organisation working to protect the right of communities 

to a healthy environment and to empower them with information on environmental issues that affect them. 



Postcard from the future 

Jabulile Bongiwe Ngwenya writes a letter from 

her 80-year-old self — and finds her way forward 

Darling Jabu, 

Take a moment to be with me. Sit down. Let go 

of the worries. When we’re done here you can 

always go back to them. But for now, feel the 

usefulness and agility of your body. Put your 

hand to your heart and feel it beating. Enjoy 

what it feels like to walk about without any 

groaning in your hips or knees. Let your eyes 

wander where they may, enjoying all you can 

see. Delight in yourself as you are right now. 

Growing up sucks balls, doesn’t it? I won’t 

beat about the bush. I don’t get to do this often. 

Your full attention is not something you give 

to me easily. Young people can be so foolish, 

looking at us “old people”, never thinking their 

bodies or minds will give in at some stage. 

It’s a good thing, I suppose, because it shows 

you delight in your youth. But let’s not fool 

ourselves: nothing lasts forever. 


You’ll get over the pain of losing the one 

you now think is the love of your life. And, as 

unimaginable as it may seem right now, you’ll 

love again. Believe me, it’ll be better the next 

time. You’re getting past that inconsequential 

desire to have your knees turn to jelly and to 

look at love through rose-coloured glasses. It 

has its place, that puppy love, but you’ll soon 

find that love, when it’s real and more mature, 

increases in companionship, in sharing, in 

giving, in being free. Take your time and get 

to know the other person. And when you’re in 

doubt about their intentions, stand back and 

reflect. You’ll save yourself days, weeks, of pain. 

In your case it tends to be months because 

you wear your heart on your sleeve and take 

an odd pleasure in suffering. 

There’s nothing pleasurable about suffering. 

You deserve a lifetime of happiness. You know 

that, don’t you? But you always punish yourself. 

You punish yourself for wanting happiness, for 

wanting to be rich, for wanting the kind of sex 

that leaves you radiantly exhausted. I miss that, 

I tell you. Half of the time these old men can’t 

see the destination so I amuse myself with 

memories of what it feels like to be touched, 

loved and have my body adored as if it were 

a shrine. 

Memories are good, but don’t make them 

your prison. Live, darling. But don’t live in your 

head. Live in your heart and in the world. In 

the quiet moments memories are the old 

photographs you take out and look at, but 

then put them back where they belong and 

move on. An ending is an ending for a reason. 

Feel the pain for a while, then let it go. As long 

as you have breath in your lungs there’s a 

beginning somewhere. So find it. Make it your 

own! You look around you now and wish you 

were like the others. I hate that you constantly

hurt yourself and believe you’re not good 

enough. You don’t have that fiery temper for 

nothing. By Jove, you’re amazing — a little 

on the dreamy side, but you need to get that 

that’s what makes you you. 

Don’t be afraid to stand out. Let that 

awkward baritone voice be heard. Let your 

spirit soar. Follow your heart even if it takes you 

to unknown, uncomfortable places. Strangely, 

it’s always in those moments that you find 

comfort because you’ve found yourself. Be 

uncomfortable every day; comfort is so boring 

and you hate being bored. And for heaven’s 

sake, stop trying to fix every unbroken thing 

and sometimes let things stay broken. If you 

can, fix it, but if it’s broken beyond repair throw 

it aside and find something else to play with. 

The world is full of amusing toys. 

Continue to be an explorer of worlds. 

Continue to carve your own path. Don’t be 

afraid to make mistakes. Behave badly. Take 

those naked photographs of yourself you’ve 

been wanting to take for so long. At my 

age it would be nice to look back and see 

how gorgeous I looked before the arthritis, 

inflamed joints, gammy ankles, the wrinkles 

and sagging boobs. 

Love hard and fiercely, throw all your worth 

into a cause you believe in. Speak up for those 

who cannot speak for themselves. Stand for 

something and believe in yourself. If you’re 

going to give something up, give up those 

darned cigarettes and the need to please 

everyone. Both are extremely bad for you. They 

both cause death — of body and spirit. Now, if 

you really need to, go back to your incessant 

problems. I’ll be loving you no matter what. 

Love, 

Jabu at 80 

BIogrAPhY 

Jabulile Bongiwe Ngwenya is a 

photojournalist with a BA honours degree in 

English language and literature. She’s written 

extensively for national and international 

publications in the areas of travel, lifestyle, 

finance and social commentary. In 2009 she 

published the controversial and critically 

acclaimed novel, I Ain’t Yo Bitch. In 2010 she 

collaborated with Denise Slabbert and Pat 

Hopkins to produce The South African Fact 

Book, published by Penguin Books. Ngwenya 

lives in Johannesburg and is working on her 

second novel and third non-fiction book. 

She plans to visit every country in the world 

before she dies. 



‘‘ 

Sarah mosoetsa 

Sociologist 

I grew up with two dominant messages: you are not good enough, 

and you are special and destined for greatness. I chose to listen to the 

latter. But when failure came, the loudest noise seemed to be the first 

one. I persevered and over time I started to define myself differently. 

It is a constant struggle and I am a work in progress. 

’’ 

Sarah Mosoetsa holds a PhD in sociology, lectures at Wits University and is the author of Eating from One Pot: Dynamics of 

Survival in Poor South African Households and co-editor of Labour in the Global South: Challenges and Alternatives for Workers. 


‘‘ 

Pumla gigi 

Daycare mother 

It’s not only about the child. A child 

comes from a family. the whole family 

must be supported, empowered and 

offered a step up in life. 

’’ 

Pumla Gigi runs the Ubuhle Babantwana Care Centre for children in Mfuleni, Cape Town, offering early 

childhood development programmes to 100 toddlers who previously played unattended in the streets. 




thobeka Mdlalo, 33, is an innovative 

entrepreneur, seeing opportunities 

all around her and seizing them. 

In addition to running four small 

businesses out of her house in the 

Imizamo Yethu informal settlement in Hout 

Bay, Cape Town, she is a tour guide and a local 

distributor for the organisation TrashBack, 

which promotes the sale of used clothing by 

small vendors in Hout Bay. 

Like thousands of others, Mdlalo moved 

from the Eastern Cape to find work in Cape 

Town. “I did not have money to further my 

studies, I was [raised] by a single mother and 

there were many challenges, so I had to go 

and look for a job.” Mdlalo was able to find 

work as a cleaner at Woolworths, but she felt 

unfulfilled. 

“I decided to resign and do something for 

myself,” she says. She began using the sewing 

thobeka mdlalo 

entrepreneur 

machines at a local community hall. “I bought 

a few materials and made skirts, tops, dresses, 

alterations — anything that anyone would ask 

me to do. I would sell them in the community.” 

Tasting success, she began to expand into 

other ventures. “I wanted to make vetkoek and 

scones, so I bought my own sewing machine 

so that I could work from home.” She now 

caters for local events. 

Then she went further. “There was a 

demand for laundry. There are many people 

without washing machines, they work long 

hours, they are tired, they don’t want to spend 

time on laundry.” In 2005 Mdlalo opened the 

only laundry in Imizamo Yethu. 

Using grey water, she irrigates the garden 

she and her brothers started from scratch. 

Situated below her house, it beautifies the 

community and sets a positive example about 

keeping spaces clean in a township that battles 

with rubbish. “You used to find paper all over 

here but now it’s rare to find any. People are 

respecting the space.” 

Her most recent enterprise is a flush toilet 

situated in an outhouse just beyond her 

doorstep, providing an alternative to the 

frequently unsanitary public toilets in the area. 

She charges R1 per use. 

Mdlalo hopes to inspire others in Imizamo 

Yethu to take matters into their own hands and 

dreams of opening a youth centre, as well as 

starting a youth gardening group, a women’s 

sewing group and a women’s poetry group, to 

inspire creativity and positivity. 

“Other people complain that there are no 

jobs, but there are many things to do! There 

are opportunities [for] a person if he or she 

wants it. All of us have good thoughts about 

what we can do in life; it’s just about putting 

them into action.” 


‘‘ 

rike Sitas 

urban researcher 

Public art projects alone are not going to transform cities but they 

can signal new ways of doing things. our cities, especially in the 

‘south’, are hard places for the majority of people. But they are 

also exciting, creative and hopeful places. Art can work to highlight 

what is wrong, what is right and what is possible in our cities. 

’’ 

Rike Sitas is a partner in Dala, a not-for-profit organisation that believes in creating safe, non-elitist and 

liveable public spaces. She is also initiating a Public Culture City Lab with the African Centre for Cities. 




‘‘ 

mbali nxonxo Zantsi 

Boxing promoter 

I have learned that I am much stronger than I 

thought I was and can make a huge impact on a 

family’s wellbeing by just assisting one individual. 

I have learned that courage is not the absence of 

fear but to conquer and triumph over it. 

’’ 

Mbali Zantsi, one of South Africa’s first female boxing promoters, is president of Showtime Boxing Promotions. She hosted 

the first-ever all-female boxing tournament in Durban, in 2007, and has raised the profile of women’s boxing significantly. 


Lorna martin 

forensic pathologist 

taped to the door of Professor Lorna 

Martin’s office at the University of 

Cape Town (UCT) is a cartoon of 

an enraged-looking Garfield. “Don’t 

upset me,” reads the caption, “I’m 

running out of places to hide the bodies.” 

“Of course, Lorna’s not like that all,” laughs 

June Mehl, Martin’s personal assistant and 

secretary. Mehl has worked in the forensic 

pathology department at UCT for years, first as a 

typist transcribing autopsy reports and then as 

a secretary. “The stories started getting to me,” 

she says. “Particularly the women and children. 

I opened a report the other day, then closed it 

again. I thought, ‘I just don’t want to know.’” 

Forensic pathology, the study of the causes 

of sudden or unnatural injuries and death, is 

not for everyone. Lecture topics include death 

and decay, ballistics, weaponry and the difference 

between homicidal and suicidal slashed 


throats. Even the least squeamish medical 

students approach their first trip to the city 

morgue with trepidation. Mondays are usually 

the busiest. During a weekend of misfortune, 

imprudence and alcohol, victims of car accidents, 

homicide, drowning and suicide arrive 

at the mortuary door. Every day in the morgue, 

however, presents an endless showcase of the 

worst possible outcome of any given scenario. 

Martin did not enter the University of 

the Witwatersrand (Wits) medical school 

intending to study forensic pathology. But 

as a medical student she found the science 

of forensics fascinating and she was further 

inspired when she met Dr Patricia Klepp, a 

senior pathologist and lecturer. 

“She was very forthright, no-nonsense and 

capable,” says Martin, who has crinkly, smiling 

eyes and, apart from her spiky hair, looks nothing 

like the strung-out picture of Garfield on her door. 

Martin graduated and completed her 

internship at Baragwanath Hospital in 1990 

and, while waiting for a registrar post in order 

to specialise in forensic medicine, worked as 

a district surgeon in Hillbrow. There she dealt 

with detainees, drunken drivers and public 

health matters. She also appeared in court 

as an expert witness. Each afternoon at two 

o’clock police vans would deliver up to 20 rape 

complainants to an office at the mortuary. The 

women, many of whom had been waiting on 

benches in the surrounding police stations for 

hours or even days over the weekend, would 

file out of the vehicles and Martin, or the district 

surgeon on duty for the day, would examine 

them one by one in a bare room with a 

central bed. 

“The procedure was to get the women up 

on the couch, knees apart, note any injuries, fill 

in the forms and take a single swab for semen,”


she says. “And I started thinking, this can’t be 

right.” 

Martin changed the protocol. By the time 

she left the district surgeon’s offices in 1996 

she had commandeered the matron’s flat in 

the old nursing college in Hillbrow and turned 

it into a facility with an interview room and a 

separate, private examination area with an 

en-suite bathroom. She had arranged funding 

for 24-hour nursing staff and had persuaded 

her fellow district surgeons to attend to the 

women as soon as they presented at the clinic. 

She enlisted the support of donors to 

provide toiletries and clean panties for the 

victims, who were now able to wash after their 

examination. She collaborated with the police 

to open an office where women could file 

their complaints on site instead of going to the 

police stations. And she created a rape forum 

where magistrates, district surgeons and 

police could meet to discuss individual cases. 

After failing to persuade the province to 

provide drugs on the premises, she facilitated 

referral of the women to local clinics for 

further management of sexually transmitted 

diseases and post-exposure prophylaxis for 

HIV. She improved the forensic collection of 

evidence, trained other district surgeons in 

the techniques, wrote a protocol handbook 

and opened two more rape clinics, at Bara- 

gwanath and in Lenasia. 

She also began collecting research data, 

documenting that a third of the complainants 

reported more than one perpetrator and 

that the younger the victim, the more likely 


the perpetrators were to be known to her. Of 

the 573 patients in her initial study, four were 

under the age of six and a further eight were 

younger than 12. 

By the time a post in forensic medicine 

finally became available in 1996, Martin had 

examined more than 2 000 rape survivors 

and had developed a life-long interest in rape, 

particularly rape homicide. As a registrar in 

forensics, first at Wits and then at UCT, she 

began working at the mortuary, in the world 

of rubber boots, plastic aprons, drainable 

floors, hoses and cold steel tables. Her case of 

instruments included saws, chisels and knives. 

She performed autopsies, visited crime scenes 

to collect evidence and went to court as an 

expert witness. She loved it. 

Martin adapted the forensic evidence 

kit she had developed in conjunction with 

scientists at the South African Police Service 

while still a district surgeon and applied it to 

rape homicide cases, a move that increased 

the conviction rate for this crime. Her work 

on two of the dead victims and one of the 

survivors of the Nasrec serial killer, Lazarus 

Mazingane, contributed to his incarceration; 

her mentor, Klepp, conducted the autopsies 

on the remainder of his victims. 

In 2004, at the age of 39, Lorna Martin was 

appointed chief specialist and head of the division 

of forensic pathology at UCT. She was the 

first woman, and the youngest person, to hold 

this post in South Africa. By that time she had 

published a substantial body of research into 

rape and rape homicide and she still loved 

forensic pathology. Her research revealed that 

for every 1 000 women raped in the Western 

Cape, 12 will be killed in the attack, that more 

than half of all rape victims know their perpetrator 

or perpetrators and that in 19% of the 

cases, the perpetrator is a husband or boyfriend. 

The cause of death of women killed by 

their lovers is usually blunt force. Strangers are 

more likely to kill using guns and knives and 

rapists tend to strangle and bite. 

Martin’s pioneering work on the medicolegal 

management of rape survivors has been 

included in both South Africa’s national policy 

and the World Health Organisation guidelines 

for the management of victims of sexual violence. 

Sadly, in South Africa, in spite of the 

improved collection of forensic evidence, less 

than 20% of rape survivors coming through 

the ordinary criminal courts will see their 

assailant sent to jail. In an attempt to improve 

these figures Martin joined forces in 2004 with 

Professor Lynette Deny, a gynaecologist, and 

Associate Professor Lillian Artz, a criminologist, 

to establish the gender, health and justice 

research unit in the department of forensic 

medicine. 

“Our unit represents the intersection of 

health and law,” says Artz, who leads a team 

of fellow criminologists in the field of genderbased 

violence. Working with the departments 

of forensics, gynaecology, public 

health and psychiatry, the unit has undertaken 

research into sexual violence and HIV, the characteristics 

of men who kill their partners, and 

the reasons why so many women who experi-

ence domestic violence or rape fail to follow 

through with their cases or never finalise their 

interim protection orders. The unit submits its 

findings to Parliament, advises on further training 

of police and court workers and provides 

educational material for complainants working 

their way through a labyrinthine legal system. 

In 2009 Martin was elected head of the 

department of clinical laboratory sciences at 

UCT, representing the departments of forensic 

and anatomical pathology, chemical pathology, 

virology, medical microbiology, medical 

biochemistry, genetics, haematology and 

immunology. 

“Lorna works 24 hours a day,” says Omar 

Galant, who has been a member of staff in the 

forensics department for 16 years and remembers 

Martin as a junior registrar. “She doesn’t 

try to take short cuts and she always has a plan 

about what she’s going to do next. With her it’s 

always ‘when’ and never ‘if’.” 

Martin’s next project is to close down the 

old Salt River Mortuary and open a new forensics 

laboratory in conjunction with the state 

and university, which will have in-house toxicology 

and DNA, odontology (forensic dental 

studies), entymology (beetles, flies and maggots), 

a bone lab, an imaging suite and a body 

farm, where research will be conducted to 

determine the time elapsed since death. This 

will be a first for Africa. 

As professor and head of department, 

Martin teaches medical students, trains 

registrars, conducts research, works as an 

administrator and flies around the world to act 

as an expert witness in rape homicide cases. 

It is a source of pride for South Africans to 

know that we are the world experts in certain 

fields of medicine, and a source of shame that 

one of those fields is the pathology of rape, 

particularly child and infant rape. 

How does anybody do such grisly work and 

stay sane? 

“All pathologists have to be a little crazy,” 

says Martin, who has organised the schedules 

of her registrars and specialists to include at 

least one day a week away from the morgue to 

attend to other duties. Staff in the department 

are also encouraged to take all holidays due to 

them and trauma counsellors are available. 

Artz, who has been a close personal friend 

of Martin’s for over a decade, has a further 

explanation for Martin’s ability to cope. 

“Lorna is incredibly good at compartmentalising. 

She’s seen terrible things a thousand 

times over and yet she’s never allowed herself 

to become bitter or cynical. She’s still so 

enthusiastic about her work. Some people are 

born to be forensic pathologists. Lorna is one 

of them.” 

Medical professionals joke that physicians 

know everything and see nothing, surgeons 

see everything and know nothing, and that 

althrough pathologists see and know everything, 

it is too late. This is not strictly true for 

forensic pathologists, however, because, even 

after death, there is still an opportunity to see 

justice served. 

“When I visit a crime scene, instead of getting 

upset, I get determined,” says Martin. “I 

want to see somebody brought to account.” 

As Martin pointed out in an inaugural lecture 

last year, forensic pathologists are in the privileged 

position of giving a voice to the dead. 

After the lecture, the audience was ushered 

to another of Martin’s projects. Using funds 

obtained from a grant, she has spearheaded 

the drive to curate and digitalise more than 

3 000 specimens in the Anatomical Pathology 

Learning Centre. This museum, available online, 

is also a first for Africa and a valuable learning 

resource for students around the world, particularly 

those from poorer countries. 

Friends, colleagues and her family celebrated 

her achievements in the atmosphere in which 

she feels most at home: they sipped cocktails 

and nibbled snacks amid glass jars of enlarged 

spleens, nodular livers, cystic kidneys and 

fibrotic lungs. — Martinique Stilwell 

Martinique Stilwell is a medical doctor, 

writer and freelance journalist. Her memoir, 

Thinking Up a Hurricane, will be published 

by Penguin in September 



‘‘ 

thandi mnguni 

teacher 

the most important things to instil in a child are 

knowledge, skills and core values. So many things 

today erode morals, respect and attitude. we 

need to get them back. we need to do this by 

being an example, by walking the talk. 

’’ 

Thandi Mnguni has taught for 34 years at Zakhele Primary School in poverty-stricken Mamelodi East, 

where she initiated the establishment of a library and an after-school programme at a local church. 


‘‘ 

Judith kotzé 

minister 

As an Afrikaner and as a woman I needed to deal with 

my background and integrate my sexuality and my 

spirituality. I have been able to do this by living who I 

am. when you do that with honesty, authenticity and 

realness, life partners with you and doors begin to open. 

’’ 

Judith Kotzé is a minister in the Dutch Reformed Church and director of Inclusive and Affirming Ministries, which advocates the acceptance 

of diversity in sexual orientation and the inclusion of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and intersex people in Africa’s faith community. 



In the boys’ club 

what was it like to be a woman in the early days of 

the Constitutional Court? Kate O’Regan on raising the bar 

It was not an auspicious start. At the end of 

my first job interview, after I had graduated 

with my LLB, the senior lawyer at the distinguished 

Johannesburg firm of attorneys told 

me: “Well, the truth is we don’t like women 

at this firm.” And that was that. 

I did get a job as an articled clerk at another 

large Johannesburg firm where it was noticeable 

that in every intake of clerks (and this was 

in the early 1980s) there was a good sprinkling 

of blacks and women. In fact, at that firm I met 

one of my future colleagues on the bench, 

Justice Sisi Khampepe. If you had told the two 

of us then that we would serve as judges of 

the Constitutional Court in a democratic South 

Africa we would have roared with laughter. 

It was there that I had one of the first of the 

strokes of extraordinary good fortune that 

have blessed my career. Shortly after I began 

my articles a highly respected attorney, who 


was committed to acting for trade unions and 

other anti-apartheid organisations, rejoined 

the firm and so I found a mentor. Perhaps there 

is no more important moment in any young 

professional’s life than finding an experienced 

professional whom you respect to teach you 

the ropes. A good mentor is a rare thing and 

young professionals should seek them out. 

The start of women in the profession generally 

was also not auspicious. Until 1923 women 

were excluded from the profession by law. 

That exclusion resulted from a 1912 Appellate 

Division decision, Incorporated Law Society v 

Wookey, in which the court held that Madeline 

Wookey, who had applied to the Law Society 

in Cape Town for admission as an attorney, 

could not be admitted. 

A distinguished bench of the Appellate 

Division (ACJ Innes, J Solomon and JP De Villiers) 

held that the legislature had not intended 

to include women when it said that “persons” 

could be admitted to the profession. After his 

review of the classes of persons who had been 

excluded by the rules of Roman law and the 

Roman Dutch law from practising as lawyers, 

JP De Villiers held that: 

“Some of these restrictions are undoubtedly 

obsolete. It would be difficult to maintain 

that a blind person duly qualified in other 

respects cannot be admitted as an attorney on 

the ground that he cannot see and therefore 

cannot pay proper respect to the magistrate. 

The prohibitions, too, based on race or religion, 

are notoriously obsolete. Can the same 

be said of the prohibition based on sex? I am 

of the opinion the answer is in the negative. 

No doubt many of the disabilities under which 

women have laboured in the past have been 

abolished … But we cannot ignore the fact 

that from the time that Carfania vexed the soul

of some too nervous praetor with her pleading 

down to our own day, the profession of 

an attorney has been exercised exclusively by 

men; and this applies not only to Holland, but 

also to England.” 

The Appellate Division was by no means 

alone in this conclusion. Courts throughout 

the Anglo-American world reached similar 

conclusions. 

Wookey’s case gave rise to considerable 

discussion in the pages of the South African 

Law Journal. One contribution by RPB Davis 

(who was acting judge of appeal for several 

years) cited a judgment in an American case 

concerned with the admission of women, in 

which the judge, CJ Ryan, had propounded as 

follows: 

“We cannot but think that the common law 

is wise in excluding women from the profession 

of the law. The profession enters largely 

into the wellbeing of society; and to be honourably 

filled and safely to society exacts the 

devotion of life. The law of nature destines and 

qualifies the female sex for the bearing and 

nurture of the children of our race and for the 

custody of the world, and their maintenance 

in love and honour. And all lifelong callings of 

women, inconsistent with these radical and 

sacred duties of their sex, as is the profession 

of law, are departures from the order of nature; 

and when voluntary, treason against it. … it is 

public policy … not to tempt women from the 

proper duties of their sex by opening to them 

duties peculiar to ours.” 

One should not laugh too quickly at CJ 

Ryan’s reasoning. The challenge of the double 

shift remains a real one for women in the 

profession. In the large firms and at the Bar, 

successful lawyers expect to work more than 

10 hours a day: a burden that is not easily 

compatible with child-rearing responsibilities. 

A second obstacle for women in the profession 

is one I encountered not long before 

I was appointed to the Constitutional Court. A 

respected member of the Cape Bench, who 

had come to the University of Cape Town to 

judge a moot I had organised, told me that 

women simply do not make good advocates 

as they lack “the killer instinct”. This view was 

expressed not in 1912 but in 1993. Leaving 

aside the questionable statement that a “killer 

instinct” is a necessary item in a lawyer’s toolkit, 

what this statement discloses is the view that 

women cannot excel in the law. 

Not surprisingly, I think this view is mistaken, 

but it is probably not rare. And without a 

doubt it makes it hard for women to succeed 

at the Bar, in particular. Although women are 

now beginning to make strides, the number 

of women silks remains tiny and this is prob- 


‘‘ 

I have watched many outstanding women 

withdraw from the profession because they 

have not had the strokes of luck I had, or 

because they have found the battles too hard, 

or because their desire to spend more time at 

home and with children was too strong. 

ably at least in part because there are still 

many lawyers who think that women are not 

as good as men. 

Yet despite the initial difficulty in my career 

I have been extraordinarily fortunate. I was, 

of course, one of the very first affirmative 

action appointments to the Bench. If it had 

not been for the Constitution’s insistence on 

the relevance of race and gender to judicial 

appointments, I should never have been a 

judge. Indeed, I am not quite sure now how 

I let myself be nominated for the position in 

the first place. But 1994 was an extraordinary 

year and what would, I imagine, at any other 

time have seemed an utterly ridiculous suggestion 

did not seem quite as ridiculous then. 

I do recall being persuaded by the proposition 

that if no women were willing to let their 


’’ 

names go forward, no female judge would 

ever be appointed. 

It was strange to join a court as a judge of 

equal status with lawyers whom I considered 

to be my role models and very much my seniors. 

From the start I had to quell the natural 

urge to remain silent and keep contrary views 

to myself, given the august company I had 

joined. (Some of my colleagues might say that 

I did not seem to find quelling that urge very 

difficult!) What I found then, and have found 

ever since, is the surprising egalitarianism of 

reasoned and principled debate about law on 

a collegial court. Structurally speaking, a collegiate 

bench is a bench of equals. Every judge’s 

vote counts the same. It is only the power of 

argument and persuasion that can make one’s 

colleagues agree. 

That does not mean that I did not encounter 

the challenges of the double shift. When I 

was appointed to the court my children were 

aged five and three. Their school years tracked 

my 15 years at the court almost exactly. So 

the double shift was a real issue for me. But 

in meeting its challenge I was fortunate in 

three ways. The first was that I was the child 

of a working mother, who I knew had been a 

wonderful mother. When I was at school I was 

one of the very few who had a mother who 

worked fulltime. Although that meant she was 

often not able to do things other mothers did, 

I did not feel distressed, partly because my 

close friends’ mothers were there to help out 

with lifts and afternoons. I am still grateful to 

them. 

The second was that I have always had a 

supportive team of people around me. My 

husband, Alec, who managed with grace and 

good humour the deep contradiction of being 

a junior member of the Bar while his wife was 

suddenly catapulted to the Constitutional 

Court; my own family and Alec’s family, all of 

whom helped out often when things were 

difficult; friends and the parents of my children’s 

friends, who also did. And, of course, the 

women who worked for me both at the court 

and at home were mainstays of my managing 

of the double shift. I think this is probably true 

for most women: we are not on our own managing 

life’s demands; we are surrounded by a 

community of people who help. 

And the third was that my colleagues on the 

court were understanding of the challenge of

the double shift. In meeting this challenge 

it was a great blessing not to be the only 

woman on the court and to have colleagues 

such as Yvonne Mokgoro and Bess Nkabinde. 

Yvonne and I were not the only parents of 

young children on the court in my early 

years. Johann Kriegler also had a school-age 

daughter. Moreover, many of my colleagues 

had grandchildren. As a result, my colleagues 

were willing to eschew Saturday-morning 

meetings and to recognise that sometimes I 

needed to slip off to do a school lift or take 

a child to the doctor. I was very fortunate to 

have colleagues who were so understanding 

of the importance of my mothering role. 

I am conscious that in at least two ways I 

skipped the hard yards. It is a lot easier to be 

a member of a senior appellate court, whose 

equal status is determined by law, than to 

fight for your status every step of the road. 

I have watched many outstanding women 

withdraw from the profession because they 

have not had the strokes of luck I had, or 

because they have found the battles too hard, 

or because their desire to spend more time at 

home and with children was too strong. 

I am also conscious of the special advantages 

that my experience as a white Englishspeaking 

middle-class woman from a professional 

background gave me. Books and 

debate were part of our daily lives. It was 

expected that I would go to university and 

pursue a career, just like my brothers. There 

were no apartheid barriers in my path. The 

apartheid barriers erected against black 

women were high and wide. And their aftermath 

is with us still. 

As my career has progressed it has been a 

delight to see the careers of other women in 

the law also progress. Women are still underrepresented 

in the profession and on the 

Bench, but increasingly they are making a 

valuable contribution. Perhaps we are at last 

overcoming the inauspicious start. 

Having had the advantage of working 

closely with a very diverse group of people at 

the Constitutional Court, I have learnt that we 

must always remind ourselves that our identity 

is complex and is not constituted by one 

characteristic, such as our gender. Gender is 

important in constituting identity, but so are 

language, culture, ethnic background, race, 

religion, sexual orientation, parental status, 

age and many other qualities. As the Nobel 

prize-winning economist Amartya Sen has 

observed, we must be careful not to limit our 

identity to one characteristic only. For if we 

do, we shall diminish ourselves, and be at risk 

of diminishing everyone else as well. 

BIogrAPhY 

Kate O’Regan served as a judge of the 

Constitutional Court from 1994 to 2009. 

She studied law at the University of Cape 

Town as well as at the University of Sydney 

and the London School of Economics and 

Political Science. In the mid-1980s she worked 

for a firm of attorneys in Johannesburg, where 

she specialised in labour law. Towards the 

end of the 1980s she joined the law faculty at 

the University of Cape Town. Since her term 

of office at the Constitutional Court ended 

she has, among other activities, served as 

chairperson of the United Nations Internal 

Justice Council and as an ad hoc judge of the 

Namibian Supreme Court. 



‘‘ 

Sonja kruse 

Adventurer 

the spirit of ubuntu is something you can only learn about through 

experience but, when it’s alive in you, you’ll see it all around. we all have our 

own words for it, but what I know is that this spirit was ahead of me and 

paving the way on my journey. we all need to honour that spirit in us. the 

pockets of ubuntu I found are the heartbeats that animate our country. 

’’ 

Sonja Kruse completed a year-long journey around South Africa in search of the spirit of Ubuntu. She facilitates 

motivational workshops, both locally and overseas, aimed at inspiring the youth through the simple act of storytelling. 


‘‘ 

Liza Aziz 

filmmaker 

I didn’t set out to do anything. my autism advocacy 

work is simply a response to the situation I found 

myself in when they said my son with autism was 

‘uneducable’. no child is uneducable and all people with 

autism can learn, contribute and live fulfilling lives. 

’’ 

Liza Aziz is a documentary filmmaker and founder of Action in Autism, a non-profit organisation that provides 

support, information and an early intervention centre for families in KwaZulu-Natal that are affected by autism. 




Sindiwe Magona’s second autobiographical 

work, Forced to Grow, 

begins with the sullen line, “I was a 

has-been at the age of 23:” 

Now nearing 70, “has-been” 

could not be less descriptive of this domestic 

worker turned world-renowned author, 

teacher and community activist. 

Born in Tsolo, Gungululu, in the Eastern Cape 

in 1943, Magona grew up on the Cape Flats and 

has dedicated her life to learning and literacy. At 

the age of 19, she began her career as a teacher, 

but had to leave the profession when she fell 

pregnant. Years later, when she was swollen 

with her third child, Magona’s husband left her 

and her life changed radically — for the better. 

“When I look back now, I know that was 

the luckiest break I had … I woke up! I started 

studying, as I needed to try to find a way of 

raising my kids.” She worked during the day 

Sindiwe magona 

Author 

as a domestic worker and studied at night, 

eventually going back into teaching. Her hard 

work and commitment paid off and in 1981 

she left for New York, children in tow, on a 

scholarship to study at Columbia University. 

It was here that her writing career 

blossomed, with South Africa at the centre of 

her work. “I tried to make my books not to be 

political books, but more to be about life under 

apartheid … I wasn’t pushing an anti-apartheid 

line, but I was just saying ‘this is what it means’.” 

Magona spent 20 years in the United States, 

working for the United Nations department 

of public information. When she retired she 

moved back to South Africa, where, in addition 

to writing, she focuses on promoting literacy 

among young South Africans. She hopes to 

act as a role model for black writers, especially 

young women. 

Reviewers have described Magona’s writing 

as “courageous”. Michela Borzaga of itch.co.za 

called her 2008 novel, Beauty’s Gift, about the 

HIV epidemic, “a novel that all women should 

read”, as it epitomises black feminism and selfempowerment. 

The novel was short-listed for 

the 2009 Commonwealth Writers’ Prize. 

In 2011 President Jacob Zuma awarded 

Magona the Order of Ikhamanga in Bronze for 

her life’s work. This year she has watched the 

play Mother to Mother, adapted from her novel 

of that name, make its way around the world. 

“When I was growing up, I never met a single 

black woman writer — now I go to schools 

and children see a woman who looks like their 

mother … who speaks their language, who 

writes books. 

“The one thing that I think holds us back 

as women, especially when we are younger, 

is being fearful. We have much more to offer 

than we ever believe we have.” 


‘‘ 

Shamitha naidoo 

Volunteer 

every South African citizen should know their rights and be given the opportunity to 

know the Constitution so that they can fight for basic services. In our community 

there are people who are not even aware that they have a right to free water. It is 

important that poor people organise themselves and build their own power. 

’’ 

Shamitha Naidoo is a paralegal and community caregiver based in KwaZulu-Natal. She is involved 

in numerous community projects and uses her knowledge of the law to fight injustice. 




‘‘ 

tebogo Sehlabane 

Anti-corruption hero 

Courage comes from seeing people being exploited. I can’t 

live with myself if I have the ability to help someone or do the 

right thing and I don’t do it. It bothers me because I believe 

that you have to do what you can in your own environment 

to make the South Africa that we want our children to inherit. 

’’ 

Tebogo Sehlabane is studying to be an educational psychologist. 

She was named a Corruption Watch hero for taking a stand to stop police intimidation. 


mitta Lebaka 

Social work manager 

five minutes after I call her to introduce 

myself and arrange a time to 

meet, Mitta Lebaka phones me back 

to suggest that instead of meeting at 

the Children of Fire charity, where she 

works, I come to her home in Dobsonville. 

So we meet at the metaphorical scene of 

the crime: the home where a child’s desire to 

warm her hands turned into a tragic accident 

in a matter of minutes and changed her life 

irrevocably. 

Her request brings partial relief. Knowing I 

was going to be interviewing a burn survivor, 

possibly at a school surrounded by children 

who are all burn survivors, caused a level of 

discomfort and anxiety. As I dress for our interview, 

my own shallow vanity battles my curiosity 

about how burn survivors, especially women, 

navigate a society obsessed with beauty. 

As I apply eyeliner, mascara and lip gloss, I send 


a prayer to heaven: “Dear Lord, please don’t let 

me stare, or worse, allow pity to drip off every 

word. Amen.” 

No prayer or mantra could prepare me for 

meeting Lebaka. Not because of the scars that 

cover her décolletage and snake up to her 

chin, or the slight stoop that seems to accommodate 

the skin tightened and contracted by 

third-degree burns. At just 22 Lebaka is a combination 

of youthful exuberance and a gravitas 

forged by tragic circumstances. Dressed 

in a camel-coloured sundress and lime-green 

cardigan, with a diamanté headband holding 

back her hair, Lebaka greets me at the gate 

along with her mother, Gloria, and brother, 

Thabiso, before leading me into the dining 

room of her family’s modest home. 

In August 1998 Lebaka, then eight years old, 

switched on the kitchen stove to warm her 

hands. The synthetic jersey she was wearing 

caught alight and, as she struggled to take it 

off, the rest of her clothing ignited, leaving her 

with third-degree burns over her torso, neck 

and chin. 

But it is not her own burns or scars that 

dominate the conversation when we sit down 

to talk. A social worker manager at Children of 

Fire, the first and only charity in Africa dedicated 

to child burn survivors, she is neither 

a victim nor the object of pity I had dreaded 

prior to meeting her. 

Self-assured, eloquent and, thanks to her 

work at Children of Fire, extremely well travelled, 

Lebaka springs straight into the work of 

the charity and a recent trip she took to Goma, 

in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, 

to assist a 10-month-old burn victim called 

Agnes. 

“Children of Fire gets emails from all over 

the world asking us what to do with children


who have been burnt. From the picture of 

Agnes they sent us we could see it was an 

urgent case. I wasn’t asked if I wanted to go, I 

was told: ‘You’re going to Goma, then Amsterdam, 

then Boston.’ As a burn survivor it made 

sense that I should help. I was overwhelmed, 

but I knew I had to be in it 100%.” 

From Johannesburg, Lebaka undertook an 

arduous journey to Goma, then to Kigali in 

Rwanda to secure a visa for the United States, 

then to Amsterdam, and finally to Boston, 

where baby Agnes was admitted to Shriners 

Hospital for Children, one of the world’s leading 

centres for paediatric burncare. 

But not before enduring a five-hour negotiation 

with the child’s family, who, despite 

being desperate for assistance, were reluctant 

to relinquish their severely injured infant to 

strangers. 

“I assumed we’d get there, pick up the baby 

and drive to Kigali, but I had to sit for five hours 

and talk to the family. People in Goma have 

been promised so much and nothing has 

been delivered, so no one trusts your intentions. 

And the family did not know how they 

could trust us to take their baby to America,” 

says Lebaka. 

Even after securing their permission, as they 

were about to depart the following morning 

the baby’s grandmother refused to hand over 

the child’s passport, prompting another round 

of negotiations, this time with local chiefs and 

male elders. By the time they had satisfied 

all concerned that baby Agnes would be in 

good hands, their visa appointment had been 


imperilled by the long delay. 

“That is when I realised the power of Facebook 

and Twitter,” says Lebaka. Recognising 

that there was a risk that they would not 

secure visas, her colleague and founding 

director of Children of Fire, Brownen Jones, 

turned to social media to alert those assisting 

them in Kigali to the delay. Jones managed to 

contact Dr Josh Ruxin, founder and director of 

the Access Project in Rwanda, who is based in 

Kigali and had been assisting them with the 

logistics. Ruxin was able to alert the US consulate 

to the delay. 

In the midst of tense negotiations taking 

place in the squalor of Goma, Lebaka’s primary 

concern was for Agnes. 

“Pictures are deceiving, because I do not 

know how she had survived. She was underweight, 

her dressing had not been changed 

for a week, and it was extremely hot in Goma. 

My first task after meeting her was to change 

the dressing. It was hard for Agnes. She had 

lost her eyelids, but, amazingly, she could still 

see. After I changed her dressing she associated 

me with pain. And when I put the tear gel 

in her eyes for the first time I’ll never forget the 

giggle she made. For the longest time she had 

had no relief. It was a life-changing moment 

for me.” 

If Agnes left an indelible mark on Lebaka, 

Lebaka left an indelible impression on Ruxin, 

who is assistant clinical professor of public 

health at New York’s Columbia University. 

“I meet a lot of exceptional people — talented 

intellectually and in other ways — in Rwan- 

da. Rwanda has this funny habit of attracting 

the best of the best. So, among the best of the 

best, I found Mitta, frankly better than the rest,” 

wrote Ruxin in a recent email interview. 

“The first thing that struck me on meeting 

her was: ‘She’s a burn survivor herself, she’s 

giving back and turning her experience into 

something extraordinary.’ But then as I started 

working with her I realised that being a burn 

survivor provided inadequate explanation for 

who she is and how skilled she is. 

“She went into one of the toughest countries 

on Earth, without wincing, and spent 

two days helping a family frightened by sorcery 

and mysticism come to terms with giving 

baby Agnes a chance in the US. That’s something 

that’s tough for anyone with decades of 

experience; for someone as young as Mitta it’s 

actually just unheard of,” wrote Ruxin. 

This strength of character and determination 

to survive despite the odds predates her 

birth, says Lebaka’s mother, Gloria. Lebaka 

was born three months premature after her 

mother took a nasty fall six months into her 

pregnancy. 

Lebaka’s burns might have been less severe 

had it not been for her independence, says 

her mother. “She’s been independent since 

childhood. The day she got burnt, she woke 

up really early, at around 5.30am. She tried to 

kill the fire herself and didn’t want to wake 

anyone. So she got badly burnt.” 

Lebaka remembers little of the day she was 

burnt, except the fire and her mother’s panic 

and then nothing. She woke up in Leratong

Hospital and did not see herself for three 

months after the accident. 

“When I saw myself for the first time, I could 

not believe it. And I felt angry that my family 

had not told me. But people see things differently. 

And from a family’s point of view, they 

can’t tell you: ‘It’s awful, you look ugly’.” 

Lebaka is the second of Gloria’s children to 

have suffered severe burns. Two years prior to 

her accident her older sister, Sake, had an epileptic 

fit, knocked a boiling kettle off a stove 

and suffered third-degree burns all over her 

body. 

Lebaka’s effervescent personality and personal 

mantra that “all you need is compassion 

and common sense” give no hint of the tragedy 

that has befallen her family. She lost her 

two older sisters, Sake and Naledi, within three 

months in 2008. 

Jones, the Children of Fire founder, who first 

met Lebaka when she was a schoolgirl at Fort 

Hare High School in Dobsonville, attributes her 

resilience and courage to Gloria. “The person 

who made Mitta who she is is her mother. She 

had a tough start and a tragic accident, but her 

attitude has always been: ‘What’s the point of 

whingeing about it? Let me do more than the 

best I can.’ And that is all due to her mother.” 

Lebaka acknowledges her family as the 

bedrock of her support and her mother’s role 

in helping her come to terms with the accident 

and the scars she’ll bear for the rest of 

her life. After spending three months in hospital 

in 1998, she returned to school in January 

1999. Despite all her objections, her mother 

remained uncompromising that not only 

would she go to school, she would also go 

without a scarf to cover her scars. 

A year after the accident Lebaka had major 

neck surgery, during which skin from her legs 

was grafted on to her neck. She also underwent 

breast reconstruction. “I made a choice 

not to do more. Now it’s not about aesthetics 

anymore, it’s about function. I’m comfortable 

and I’m fine with me.” 

All children and adult burn survivors inevitably 

run the gauntlet of pitying looks and wellmeaning 

but misguided strangers. 

“When I was a kid, people always wanted 

to give me sweets. They wouldn’t want their 

own children to eat too many sweets, but they 

assume that children who are burn survivors 

deserve pity. All this attitude does is rob children 

of their independence.” 

A refusal to be the object of pity is a trait 

displayed by many of the children at Children 

of Fire, says Lebaka. Most children who have 

burn accidents are under-fours because they 

are still exploring their world, she says. Poverty 

and cramped living conditions make toddlers 

especially vulnerable as they are exposed to 

open flames, boiling pots and primus stoves. 

Around 15 000 children are severely burned in 

South Africa every year. 

At any given time, the centre houses 

between six and 40 children going through 

surgery, occupational therapy and physiotherapy. 

To date, the centre has helped 350 child 

burn survivors from all over Africa. The children 

it has assisted on the continent include 

a girl burnt in an acid attack in Gabon, a boy 

burnt in a rebel attack in Sudan, a girl burnt in 

a stove explosion in Tunisia and innumerable 

other children burnt by open fires, in shack fires 

and in car accidents, or by exploding paraffin 

lamps, hot polish and some through attacks 

by parents. Baby Agnes was scalded by boiling 

water. 

Not all children survive. Baby Agnes did not 

make it, despite the best efforts of Lebaka, 

Jones, Ruxin and the team at Shriners. 

“Baby Agnes succumbed to complications 

of surgery,” Ruxton wrote by email. “It was a 

horrible tragedy, but one that brought Mitta 

in touch with so many, myself included. Mitta’s 

presence, confidence and compassion provide 

a very, very high bar for the rest of us. But it’s 

one that somehow seems obtainable because 

what she does she does without pretence or 

ego. She simply does what’s right, and that’s a 

rare thing today.” 

As I prepare to drive away from the “scene 

of the crime”, I ask Gloria about her daughter’s 

name and what it means. She smiles, and says: 

“Mitta’s name is Dimakatso, which, in Sesotho, 

means ‘miracles’ and here she is: my child of 

miracles.” — Gail Smith 

Gail Smith is a feminist writer and journalist, 

and the head of communications for the 

Mapungubwe Institute for Strategic Reflection. 

She writes in her personal capacity 


‘‘ 

Joyce mthembu 

grandmother 

feeding children takes more than 

just food. for young people to grow 

and flourish, you also need to nourish 

their spirits and believe in them. 

’’ 

Joyce Mthembu started Crystal Fountain, a foundation that provides a safe space for vulnerable children in 

Pimville, Soweto. Along with three meals a day, children in distress are offered counselling and support. 




Luce Steenkamp comes from a rich heritage 

in a barren place in the northern 

Kalahari, where her ancestors, whose 

heritage is reflected in her cheekbones 

and eyes, lived as hunter-gatherers. 

She hails from a farm called Erin in the 

Northern Cape, 60km south of the Kgalagadi 

Transfrontier Park, previously the Kalahari 

Gemsbok Park, from which, between the 1930s 

and 1970s, members of the Khomani San (and 

Steenkamp’s family) were evicted. 

Erin is one of the farms that was awarded to 

the community, together with 25 000 hectares 

of the park, in a historic land claim settled 

in 1999. At the time, Steenkamp was in her 

early 20s and filled with hope. “The land claim 

meant freedom and happiness after the years 

of slavery and staying on white people’s farms.” 

On paper, the claim promised the world to 

a community paralysed by poverty. However, 

Luce Steenkamp 

office manager 

years went by with little development. 

Social decay grew, along with feelings of 

disappointment and despair. 

The decay had been around for a long time; 

as far back as she can remember poverty and 

alcoholism were endemic in her community. 

“I did not grow up in good circumstances. 

My mother and father have had drinking 

problems that influenced my personality. I 

stopped speaking very much and was very 

ashamed of my parents’ lifestyle.” 

When Steenkamp finished school, jobs 

were scarce in her part of the world, so she 

volunteered where she could. When, in 2009, 

she was offered a job running the Bushman 

Council office for the Khomani San she 

jumped at the chance. Although painfully shy 

and computer illiterate at the time, Steenkamp 

embraced the opportunity. She started as the 

council’s administrator and now virtually runs 

the show. 

The office oversees the work of the Khomani 

San Park Committee and the Traditional Ward 

Committee and looks for opportunities to 

generate jobs and income through ecotourism 

initiatives as well as seeking ways to revive the 

indigenous knowledge of the Khomani San. 

In addition to administrative tasks, Steenkamp 

works on programmes that assist in 

transferring knowledge from the elders to the 

younger generation. 

“I want to share our knowledge with others 

because it is so unique and valuable and 

the best way to further world peace and to 

provide sustainable ways to conserve our 

nature and heritage. It means so much to me 

to be part of the Khomani San because I know 

who I am and where I come from. It affects my 

self-image a lot just to know that I am from the 

First People of South Africa and the world.” 


‘‘ 

Zahira Asmal 

entrepreneur 

Design talent is a growing global currency. the cities that best support their 

creative communities, from architects to city visionaries, tend to be the best 

known and most visible. A developing nation like South Africa desperately 

needs designers, urban thinkers, economists, engineers, artists and planning 

specialists, not only to create suitable responses to social challenges but also 

to seek collaboratively to construct and create a better society. 

’’ 

Zahira Asmal founded DESIGNING_SOUTH AFRICA, a research and advocacy initiative focused on 

city-making and design. She is editor of Reflections and Opportunities: Design, Cities and the World Cup. 




‘‘ 

Sharon Pollard 

researcher 

water is an amazing integrator of human and 

ecological systems. Studying water draws you out 

of science into the social and political world because 

of the way that water is linked to our spiritual sense 

of who we are; it permeates all aspects of our lives. 

’’ 

Dr Sharon Pollard runs the Association for Water and Rural Development, which does pioneering research 

and advocacy work around water resources management in underprivileged areas in South Africa. 


hot in france 

having a midlife crisis in a quaint country village was supposed to 

be a beautiful thing. then came reality. Charlotte Bauer gets flushed. 

with a crash that could be 

heard in the next village, 

four tonnes of logs are 

tipped on to my driveway. 

Before I can say “Wait, 

monsieur!” Thierry, the log man, is driving 

away up the farm track in a small tornado of 

gravel and wood chips. 

As the sonic boom dies away I stare at the 

pile, the summit of which I can just about see 

over to the winter wheat fields beyond, if I 

stand on tiptoe. These are not the logs you 

see in home decor magazines, blond and 

cut clean, looking so chic and Scandinavian 

stacked up against a statement wall next to 

the fireplace. These logs — blackened, barky 

stumps — resemble a nasty pyre of the type 

used round here in medieval times to burn 

heretics. 

Stunned, I stand there, wondering how 


I’m going to get four tonnes of raw, chopped 

forest off the driveway and into the woodshed. 

Thanks to a short, steep slope between 

Thierry’s dumping point and my storage point, 

a wheelbarrow will be useless. Also, I’m in the 

weird, dreamy grip of another epiphany. These 

paralysing moments tend to overcome me 

when I am startled — by a snake at the kitchen 

door, an embarrassing language breakdown 

in the pharmacy — into thinking about how 

completely my life has changed, and how 

alone I am here, in this deep rural corner of 

southwest France I now call home. 

Jany, the handyman who is on site that day 

to tile a floor in the guesthouse, materialises at 

my side like Banquo’s ghost, covered in a layer 

of plaster. 

He shakes his floury curls and laughs, not 

unkindly. “Eh, that’s your job for the week! ” 

Hitching up his shoulders in the kind of shrug 

that is not only very French but is also intended 

to help me, the “Anglo”, grasp his meaning 

(which is basically c’est la vie), he returns to his 

work in a soft puff of grouting. 

It’s not that Jany is unsympathetic. But as 

I’m paying him the equivalent of a Unesco 

consultant’s fee to carry out finishes to our 

holiday rental house, it wouldn’t pay me to pay 

him to drop his trowel and pick up logs. 

In any case, Jany is an artisan, not an 

unskilled labourer, even though he labours 

long and hard at making lovely, practical 

things, all the while whistling and talking to 

himself. In South Africa there is always some 

poor desperado to do your dirty work for 

money. In France, for all the gnashing about 

dodgy politicians and falling standards, people 

are paid a living wage, strictly enforced by law. 

It is one of the reasons I was attracted to living 

in France in the first place, even though this

elative equality makes hiring anyone to do 

anything an expensive undertaking. 

But now here I am, a spoilt South African 

ex-madam who, at this moment, would give 

anything to pay someone else to do her dirty 

work. But the truth is I’m the only person 

around here whose labour costs nothing and 

I can’t do tiling. 

Stifling a sob of self-pity, I return to the semifinished 

barn that I live in and change into 

the cherry-print Wellington boots and zip-up 

housecoat I bought at the local supermarket 

when I first arrived. Back then, my cleaners’ 

overalls and cute faux-farmer wellies had 

seemed an amusing conceit, a droll comment 

on my new life as a working landlady in rustic 

France. How I laughed. 

After making Jany and myself a pot of 

thick black espresso and smoking a consoling 

cigarette that I clumsily roll myself (being 

unable to afford the real thing and unwilling to 

quit), I clamber back up to the log pile. 

For two days I fill shopping bags with logs 

and my housecoat pockets with kindling. This 

exercise ruins what’s left of my Johannesburg 

salon manicure (a “French” they call it, haha) 

and rips my tights as I slither up and down the 

hill gathering and hurling logs into the shed. 

It is sweaty work, despite the crisp February 

weather. 

On the third day I wake up stiff and starving. 

Having survived since the Log Crisis on coffee, 

cigarettes, heels of bread, chocolate bars and 

anything else I can forage that doesn’t involve 

cooking, I look and feel like someone who’s 

been dragged backwards through, um, a pile 

of logs. The log hill could still make a Scottish 

caber thrower weep — two tonnes, three 

tonnes? — but I don’t care. 

I get dressed in one of the past-life city 

outfits I’ve barely had a chance to wear since 

leaving Johannesburg, and a pair of pretty 

heels. With a spritz of Stella McCartney and a 

smooch of Mac’s Russian Red, I totter across 

gravel and mud to the car, feeling rebellious. 

I’m going to town. 

I return several hours later, my second-hand 

Peugeot full of real food, fresh wine supplies 

and a bunch of early spring tulips. As I bump 

down the farm track and turn the corner, I see 

an astonishing sight. 

My neighbours, Bernard and Françoise, 

have made as much of a human chain as two 

people can make, and are tossing logs to each 

other. The pile in the driveway has dwindled 

dramatically. 

“Ah, Charlotte !” cries Françoise, as I leap from 

the car, feebly protesting at the sight of my 

sixtysomething neighbours doing my dirty work. 

“Why didn’t you call us to come and help you?” 


‘‘ 

But midlife, as I’m not the first to note, is a bit 

like adolescence: it’s time for a change, an 

ID check. Certainties are overturned. You are 

restless. moody. You experiment with smoky 

eye makeup and read nietzsche out loud. 

Bernard and Françoise, blissfully together 

in their second marriages, met when they 

were nurses — she a midwife, he an expert in 

palliative care. They are small, strong and have 

the stamina of decathlon athletes. They are 

going at my log pile like a couple of Energizer 

bunnies. Later, they will go home and tackle 

their own pile. 

My eyes sting with unspilled tears. 

“I’m going inside to change,” I say. “I’ll come 

and help you finish off.” 

“No,” they say. “You make coffee.” 

Later, when they have left, I check out the 

woodshed. Four tonnes of logs are perfectly 

stacked to the roof. They look chic and 

Scandinavian. I consider calling Elle Décor. 

I am not alone. 

Still, I am more alone than I have ever been. 


’’ 

And sometimes I ask myself why I couldn’t 

have taken my midlife crisis like a man and just 

got a Porsche instead of moving to another 

country where I can’t speak the language. 

But midlife, as I’m not the first to note, is a 

bit like adolescence: it’s time for a change, an 

ID check. Certainties are overturned. You are 

restless. Moody. You experiment with smoky 

eye makeup and read Nietzsche out loud. You 

drive your family nuts and have to be sent to 

your room. 

Girlfriends of a similar age roll their eyes in 

recognition of the signs. The M-word comes 

up a lot. But what is it exactly and how will I 

know if I’ve got it? Can I catch it? Or should I 

sit back and wait until it catches me? How will 

I know when it’s time to take my hormones to 

therapy? 

“When your family wants to divorce you,” 

said one witty GP. 

Happily, they didn’t. But the upshot of 

all this midlife, middle-aged, menopausal 

churning was this. My husband, Clive, and I 

bought a stone farmhouse in rural France, 

which we renovated little by little and now 

rent to holidaymakers. 

I live here six months of the year, running 

the business, and Clive lives in Johannesburg. 

We couldn’t both afford to quit our jobs. At 

the end of the Euro tourist season, I return to 

Johannesburg where, after a few transitional 

bumps on the home front, we settle back into 

family life. Our children, Nandi and Sam, are 

grown up and they too live in Johannesburg. 

“You’re not supposed to leave home before 

us,” said Nandi, only half-joking, before I left 

the first time. I think about this a lot. 

It’s not always easy to live with the choices 

I’ve made. I know my life can be read as spoilt, 

lucky, crazy, brave, selfish or damn near perfect, 

depending on who’s doing the reading. All 

these things are true. 

I live in the kind of village visitors imagine 

they’d like to live in when they come here on 

holiday and have drunk too much local plonk. 

Our house sits in an intoxicating Impressionist 

landscape of poppy fields, sunflowers 

and vines. Bent-backed farmers, way past 

menopause, work the land from early morning 

to late into the gauzy summer night and swap 

ribald jokes in their mysterious dialect at 

village get-togethers. Most of the punchlines 

remain beyond my grasp. This, I have started

to think, is a mercy. 

Life in this agricultural community remains 

largely untouched by city ways, even though 

cosmopolitan Toulouse is less than an hour 

away by train. Village folk have embraced 

me and my shocking grammar with warmth, 

kindness and infinite patience. But there is 

no such thing as privacy in a place with 159 

registered voters. Everyone notes everyone 

else’s comings and goings, breakdowns and 

break-ups, and popping round unannounced 

is a village pastime. When I am caught off 

guard by an unscheduled rap on my door I 

try to remember how cut off I felt behind the 

gilded security gates of Johannesburg. 

By the time I get back to Johannesburg 

to live the other half of my double life, I 

am craving the city. Friends laugh when I 

squeal on my first outing to Rosebank, “it’s 

so glamorous”. Jozi embodies the energy, 

diversity, tension, speed and style of any 

serious city. Clamour and commerce. Sushi 

on demand. Shops that open on Sundays. Mr 

Delivery! And people. Lots and lots of people 

who don’t all look and sound the same. Hear 

the tongues; watch the heads go by: swishy 

hair, Afro hair, hoodies, burkas, weaves and 

wigs. For at least a week, I feel like a country 

bumpkin, goggle-eyed with wonder. 

Back in the eurozone one day last summer 

I had my first hot flush. I was in a shoe shop 

in Spain. I didn’t know what was happening 

to me and put it down to being pump-struck 

because who wouldn’t get a little warm 

under the flaps in a boutique bursting with 

stylish flats, straps, heels, buckles and bows 

and a 70%-off sale? 

I started to sweat. Copiously. Sweat flowed 

down my face and neck like lava and into what 

the French would delicately call my décolleté. 

My head went red and began to pulsate. Was 

the aircon off? Everyone else in the shop 

looked normal, including my companion, 

though his eyebrows were pinched in 

concern, or was that embarrassment? Rapidly 

I bought both pairs of shoes I’d been trying 

to decide between, and we left the shop in 

search of a bucket of ice. Which came with 

a bottle of wine. After about 20 minutes I 

stopped flashing, flaming and leaking and felt 

normal again. 

It was official. I was now a woman of an 

uncertain age in an uncertain place at an 

uncertain time. This is my adventure. 

BIogrAPhY 

Charlotte Bauer is a prize-winning columnist, 

feature writer and senior editor who, in a 

career spanning more years than a speech by 

Mangosuthu Buthelezi, has worked at the Mail 

& Guardian (founder member), Sunday Times 

and City Press. She was a Nieman Fellow at 

Harvard University. In 2010 she turned 50, quit 

her job, her family and Facebook and moved 

to rural France to have a midlife crisis in peace. 

When she’s not doing the household chores 

she used to pay someone else to do, she 

spends her time watching TV and trying to fit 

into small French clothes. Her blog about her 

experiences appears weekly on News24.com. 



JAC DE VILLIERS

‘‘ 

kunji Socikwa 

teacher 

It felt so good to give the students my space because 

I knew I was making an impact. I’d mother, support 

and nurture them and they would come, study and 

appreciate it. I motivated them. how? By giving them 

hope and telling them that they must never, ever give up. 

’’ 

Kunji Socikwa is a life orientation teacher in Khayelitsha. She opens up her home to provide countless 

students from volatile backgrounds with a stable, nurturing environment in which to study. 


Isabella holden 

Project co-ordinator 

A 

pretty blonde woman walks down 

Louis Botha Avenue with a sense 

of purpose and a determined 

stride. She knows the road well but 

still she’s careful — undeterred by 

the loudly hooting taxis and the unrelenting 

stream of traffic. Isabella Holden is partially 

blind and every day she hopes the traffic lights 

are working. 

“It’s chaos when the robots are out,” she 

says. “I just find somebody, anybody — and we 

walk across the street together. Sometimes I 

stumble, but I’m not too scared to ask for help.” 

The distance from Yeoville, where Holden 

lives, to the Lifeline offices in Norwood is 5km 

and for her the route is a daily walk of faith. “As 

a disabled person you have to take risks. If I 

get too scared I’ll hide behind a stick or stay at 

home. I’ve got to be a bit of a cowboy.” 

Fearlessness is an attitude that stands 


Holden in good stead in her job as co-ordinator 

of the Lifeline victim empowerment 

programme, which was launched just a year 

ago and now helps more than 1 000 victims 

a month. Lifeline Johannesburg manages 17 

victim empowerment centres at police stations 

all over the city, offering victims of crime 

(mostly women) some sense of dignity in the 

worst of circumstances. 

Victim supporters, says Holden, are trained 

to offer emotional containment and practical 

help in every horrific situation. Some rape 

victims arrive at the centres without a stitch 

of clothing. “We offer practical help, a strong 

shoulder to lean on, something to eat, a 

sanitary towel, clothes and panties.” 

Holden is passionate about the project, 

not only because it offers dignity to victims of 

violence but also because it provides a stipend 

for volunteers. There are just three permanent 

staff members on her team and 65 volunteers 

in an area that covers Soweto, Lenasia and the 

inner city of Johannesburg and Holden has big 

plans for expanding the services offered at the 

centres. 

At 50, she has more energy than someone 

half her age. “I have found my purpose and I feel 

very energised by what we do. The project has 

empowered me as a person; I have been given 

an opportunity to live out a value system that I 

hold dear,” she says. 

Gratitude is part of her coping skills. “I woke 

up one day and I couldn’t see. I was just a child. 

I know that things can be taken away just like 

that. I have gratitude for what I have in the 

moment. I appreciate everything.”



the dusty pathways of the rural village 

of Ga-Matlala Ngwanallela are 

a far cry from the sophisticated 

Santa Fe Convention Centre in the 

United States, from which Regina 

Maphanga has just returned after presenting 

a scientific paper on defects in insulating materials. 

It was in the Limpopo landscape of her 

birth, though, in a classroom under a tree, that 

her love of science first took root. 

Today, Maphanga’s work addresses one 

of the world’s most pressing challenges: the 

development of cleaner and more sustainable 

sources of energy. As senior researcher at the 

Materials Modelling Centre at the University 

of Limpopo, she uses complex computational 

modelling techniques to probe battery 

materials, one aspect of renewable energy. 

She is in her element. “But I wasn’t always so 

confident,” she admits. 

regina maphanga 

researcher 

A shy child, she grew up, like many other kids 

in her area, collecting water, preparing food, 

helping her mother around the house. There was 

no money for extras, but her parents were able to 

find enough for school fees. She believes it was 

their support, along with the encouragement 

of Mr Kgobe, her primary school maths teacher, 

that motivated her: “I worked very hard not to 

disappoint them,” she says. 

Because of her exceptional aptitude for maths 

and science Maphanga’s progress through 

school was accelerated and she finished early, 

always intending to study science, “but I knew I 

couldn’t be a medical doctor because I cannot 

stand seeing people hurt”. 

She opted for the physical sciences instead 

and received her first degree when she was 19. 

Graduating cum laude in her honours year gave 

her the courage to further her studies and, at 

the age of 26, she successfully completed her 

PhD in physics. 

“Of course, many of my peers thought 

‘physics is for men’, so it was satisfying to prove 

them wrong,” she says. The biggest reward, 

though, came at her graduation ceremony: 

“Knowing where we come from, getting 

my doctorate in front of my parents was an 

emotional moment for me; for all of us. 

“I have learnt that being very quiet and shy has 

not stopped me from doing what I am good at. I 

am now a confident woman and young scientist, 

proof that it doesn’t matter where you come 

from; what matters is where you are going.” 

Maphanga has not moved far from where 

she grew up — although her work takes her 

all over the world. “Limpopo is regarded as 

poor and rural and I want to help change that 

perception and make a difference in people’s 

lives, through my research and my teaching. It 

is my home and my responsibility.” 


Josephine tshaboeng 

Property developer 

Luck, the first-century Roman philosopher 

Lucius Annaeus Seneca is believed 

to have said, is where the crossroads of 

opportunity and preparation meet. I 

wonder what Seneca would have made 

of Josephine Tshaboeng’s amazing journey. 

This former domestic worker has managed 

to preserve the architectural heritage status of 

what was formally known as the Harmonie Hof 

Old Age Home, a building she has transformed 

into Harmony Galz, a female students’ residence 

in Berea, in downtown Johannesburg. 

Tshaboeng is affectionately known as Mam’ 

Jos by all those she mothers — and this turns 

out to be dozens of young people who she 

wants to see make something of themselves 

through education. 

A 53-year-old single parent, Tshaboeng 

was born in the township of Boikhutso in 

Lichtenburg in North West province. She only 


completed standard 6 — the equivalent of 

today’s grade 8 — and describes herself as “an 

ordinary township girl”. When she was eight 

her parents divorced and her mother relocated 

to Botswana with Tshaboeng’s two younger 

siblings. It was her father, a driver and mechanic 

at the local garage, who raised her, instilling 

pride in her and her older sister, despite their 

poverty. 

“Sometimes my father went to work with no 

shoes on,” she tells me over a cup of coffee and 

her favourite cheesecake at the Doornfontein 

McDonald’s Café. “He sacrificed his time for 

his daughters, gave us the best he could. He 

taught us how to wash clothes and cook and 

to work hard for what we have.” 

In 1985, with no prospects in Lichtenburg 

and with children to feed and clothe, Tshaboeng 

moved to Johannesburg in search of 

work. She had nowhere to stay; she says she 

was prepared to do just about any type of 

honest work. Luck was on her side when, one 

day, walking through the streets of Norwood 

she found herself outside the local Pick n Pay. 

A disabled man she struck up a conversation 

with told her about two bachelors who were 

looking for a domestic worker — and that’s 

when her 15-year journey of servitude began. 

Tshaboeng changed jobs several times until 

she ended up with a long-term employer with 

whom she finally fell out in 1999. On her last day 

she was waiting for a bus to take her to work 

where she planned to leave a resignation note. 

“I met this old African-American lady at the 

bus stop who asked me for the correct bus to 

her destination,” Tshaboeng says. They ended 

up having a lengthy chat and the woman 

asked for Tshaboeng’s address. Three months 

later, in March 2000, the woman showed up 

on Tshaboeng’s doorstep and, barely giving


‘‘ 

my children have walked the road 

with me, always encouraging me and 

saying, ‘ma, don’t give up, it will be okay’. 

’’ 


her a chance to get ready, took her off to show 

her Harmonie Hof. When they reached the 

property the woman put her in touch with the 

Suid-Afrikaanse Vroue Federasie, which owned 

the building. Tshaboeng ended up managing 

the building for five years, until the federation 

offered to sell it to her for just R450 000. 

Struggling to find a bank to fund her 

Tshaboeng remembered a business card she 

had been given by an agent for the Trust for 

Urban Housing Finance (TUHF), a company 

aimed at providing short- and long-term loans 

to prospective inner-city property owners. 

The organisation, says Pressage Nyoni, 

TUHF’s liaison officer, focuses on promoting 

urban regeneration and black economic 

empowerment through loans ranging from 

R50 000 to R30-million. It was Nyoni, along 

with TUHF chief executive Paul Jackson, who 

helped Tshaboeng to secure the ownership of 

Harmonie Hof. But her troubles were far from 

over; the building was later hijacked by errant 

tenants, who stopped paying rent. 

Eviction order after eviction order was 

quashed, and even with the help of TUHF it 

took more than three years to get rid of the 

illegal tenants and squatters. Much of her initial 

loan was spent on security and court cases. 

Like all who have met her, including her 

children and employees, Nyoni describes 

Tshaboeng as kind, hardworking and steadfast 

in her decisions. “At TUHF we only fund people 

who show passion, and show that they are 

serious,” says Nyoni. “People need to prove 

themselves. Josephine’s character was tested 

through the lengthy process of evicting the 

hijackers, and she passed our test.” 

In June 2009, after Tshaboeng identified the 

need for additional student accommodation 

in the area, she was approved for a new multimillion-rand 

loan and refurbishment began. In 

2010 she received a Halala Joburg award from 

the Johannesburg Development Agency for her 

contribution towards improving the inner city. 

Today she runs her property business with 

her bubbly daughter, Sandy, who has a human 

resources diploma and serves as her righthand 

woman. Her first-born, Isaac, works as 

a metallurgical engineer in Middelburg and 

her second-born son, McDonald, works in the 

building as a security guard, proudly learning 

the ropes of managing a business from his 

mother. Tim, her last-born, is an aspiring civil 

engineer, still busy with his studies. 

Apart from her own children, Tshaboeng 

also raised a young man called Neo Sthlare, 

whose father had helped her over the years 

in Lichtenburg. He has lived with the family 

since 2003 and now works as a bookkeeper, 

after completing his studies. Neo moved out 

this year but Tim remains at home, as does 

Ratanang Molefe, a 20-year-old whose mother, 

a family friend, had died and who has been 

cared for by Tshaboeng since she was about 

12. She wants to be a radiographer. 

“My children have walked the road with me, 

always encouraging me and saying, ‘Ma, don’t 

give up, it will be okay.’ I have taught them the 

value of hard work.” She says she talks to her 

children — who range in age from their late 

30s to their early 20s — about everything, and 

says of them: “Their ideas count, not their age. 

Their opinions count as people.” 

Today, Harmony Galz accommodates 130 

female students from all over South Africa, all of 

whom are studying at the University of Johannesburg. 

The building has single, double and 

triple rooms and a housemother is employed 

to look after the young women, together 

with three cleaners, four security guards and 

an administrator. Although a somewhat strict 

family-oriented environment has been created, 

the individuality and adulthood of the girls 

are recognised. Some of them say they chose 

Harmony Galz because of its close proximity to 

the campus, but most say it’s because it feels 

like a home away from home, where their parents’ 

values are reinforced by Mam’ Jos and the 

housemother. 

Tshaboeng’s next project is a men’s 

residence. But she’s in no hurry — saying she 

is still learning the ropes on this one. For her 

retirement, she dreams of a peaceful farm life, 

away from the city. She can picture herself 

with cows, talking to her flowers and plants, a 

welcome rest after growing up in a township 

and living the fast life in Johannesburg. 

— Kay Sexwale 

Kay Sexwale is a media and communication 

strategist and a public commentator with an 

interest in current affairs and South African 

post-apartheid experiences 



‘‘ 

Zodwa madiba 

Community leader 

I’m not scared, I’ve been arrested before. water is mine. electricity is mine. to 

have a house is mine. my father and grandfather all worked for these things. 

If you take me to jail over a job, water or electricity, it’s fine. our people are 

suffering. Anger motivates me. I see many things that are so unfair to the 

poor while others are just getting richer and richer. we deserve a better life. 

’’ 

Zodwa Madiba is a member of the Soweto Electricity Crisis Committee and an Operation Khanyisa 

Movement counsellor. She is leading the Dube community in the fight for free basic services for all. 


marhoyi Zita 

traditionalist 

when Marhoyi Zita is not at 

work nursing patients with 

HIV in the rural Eastern 

Cape village of Hamburg 

you will find her at home 

tending to her cattle, sheep and goats. 

“When I was a girl, everyone in the rural areas 

produced their own food,” says the sprightly 

74-year-old nurse. She describes how every 

school holiday the children would look after the 

animals and work the fields. The only food items 

the community bought were sugar, coffee and 

tea. “Now there is this ever-mentioned poverty 

in the rural areas. We must go back to traditional 

subsistence farming. That is why even though I 

live in a modern house I will always keep cattle, 

sheep and goats,” Zita says. 

She describes herself as “a traditionalist who 

is also very progressive”. A clan elder of the local 

Mfengu people, she believes in taking the best 


from the traditional way of life and combining 

it with the best modern practices, such as the 

HIV and antiretroviral (ARV) treatment approach 

offered at the Umtha Welanga (rays of the sun) 

Treatment Centre in Hamburg, where she works 

for a few days each week. 

“It is because we have not maintained a 

strong cultural identity and positive cultural 

practices such as the rite of passage from 

teenagehood to adulthood that we now 

have so much HIV and so many teenage 

pregnancies,” says Zita, explaining that this rite 

of passage teaches young men and women to 

respect each other. 

In her youth youngsters were permitted to 

be sexually active from the age of 16, but the 

girls were taught to keep their thighs closed to 

avoid penetration, and the boys were taught 

to respect this. Any boy who broke this rule 

would bring disgrace to his family. 

Zita witnessed the coming of HIV in the late 

1980s and 1990s. She explains how it haunted 

her and how her community was blessed 

by the arrival of Dr Carol Baker, founder and 

director of the Keiskamma Trust, who came to 

live in Hamburg and initiated the use of ARVs 

long before the government became involved. 

She does not believe the government 

is doing its work. “People were promised 

education but there are still so many children 

sitting in miserable classrooms or having their 

lessons under trees.” 

She adds that the trend for people to wait 

for hand-outs is not the traditional African way. 

“We need to learn from the German people 

and the Jewish people today,” she says. “They 

keep their strong cultures and traditions alive 

and they are hardworking and clever, which is 

why they are so successful. This is the kind of 

influence we want here.”



‘‘ 

Sylvia Simpwalo 

Clinic manager 

Xenophobia is dreadfully taking us decades backwards. with all the technological 

advances and strides we have made it is alarming to see people fighting each other 

because of their different nationalities. Stern education is needed among most South 

Africans about other nations in Africa and, if necessary, it should be introduced as a 

subject in the high school curriculum. most South Africans don’t travel at all and they 

will always live in their bottled world, ready to do anything to defend it at all costs. 

’’ 

Sister Sylvia Simpwalo of Nazareth House in Johannesburg instituted an antiretroviral and hospice programme for mostly 

non-South Africans who do not qualify for government-funded assistance. The programme caters for more than 2 000 patients. 


‘‘ 

nonhle mbuthumba 


I live in paradise and it’s a paradise I want my children 

to inherit one day. we are not against development, 

but we have the right to have a say in what kind of 

development takes place. open-cast mining will destroy 

our area, our heritage and our sense of identity. 

’’ 

Nonhle Mbuthumba is a community leader and activist from Sigidi, Pondoland, who is working with her community to 

prevent mining companies from exploiting their area, destroying their local environment and harming their way of life. 




JAC DE VILLIERS

Davine witbooi 

Agricultural activist 

‘‘ 

People in rural areas have the right, but not the confidence, to speak 

up about agrarian reform. As a result, their rights are constantly 

undermined. By helping them to speak with one voice on the issue 

of food security and sovereignty I am doing my bit to ensure that 

there is good-quality food on their tables at the end of every day. 

’’ 

Davine Witbooi is an activist and community leader whose work with the Right to Agrarian Reform for Food 

Sovereignty campaign is helping farm workers, farm dwellers and landless people to know and use their rights. 


Bursting through the glass ceiling 

Being a journalist was never going to be easy. And, writes Nikiwe Bikitsha, 

being a woman in the business means you have to be tougher than most 

I’ve earned a lot of unflattering accolades 

over the years, some of which were said to 

my face, others behind my back. They were 

usually quite unimaginative terms: iron lady, 

ice queen, tough cookie, ball-buster — the 

list is endless. The terms were thrown around 

to describe my demeanour or my approach to 

work, but very rarely did those people describe 

me as simply being good at what I do. 

News journalism is a difficult line of work, 

which is true whether you are in the field 

reporting from trouble spots around the globe 

or in the comfort of the studio questioning 

prominent decision-makers in a bid to hold 

them to account. You have to be incisive, bold, 

determined and relentless — and, as Christiane 

Amanpour always reminds us, keep asking 

the questions until you get answers. 

That is often not a task for the lily-livered, 

regardless of whether you are male or female. 


However, I’ve observed over the years that 

although I might be described in unflattering 

terms because of what I think of as doing 

my job well, my male counterparts are often 

referred to glowingly: they are courageous, firm 

and authoritative. There seems to be an expectation 

and acceptance that these are masculine 

attributes and women displaying such qualities 

are viewed disapprovingly. Oh well. 

At some stage, I suppose, we all wrestle with 

how people view us and what their expectations 

of us are. I haven’t allowed that to limit 

me in any way. Ever since I started reporting 

as a young, gawky, curious and green intern at 

the age of 18, I’ve never thought, nor was I led 

to believe, that there was something I couldn’t 

or shouldn’t do simply because I’m a woman. 

That’s partly because I come from a family of 

strong women who were constantly encouraged 

to achieve and those achievements were 

celebrated. I’ve also been lucky enough to work 

in newsrooms where women were in the majority 

and were in decision-making positions. 

Even in instances where my superiors were 

male, women were dominant in the workforce, 

so it wasn’t as though there was an opportunity 

to discriminate. The question of being sidelined 

or stifled never really arose, even in the early 

days of my career. I’m really grateful for that, 

because, with that kind of affirmation from the 

get-go, I became inured to any gender-based 

hurdles people might place in my way. 

One incident sticks with me, though. I was 

working as a radio news reporter in Cape Town 

in the late 1990s. I had been assigned to the 

Khayelitsha area. Late that evening people 

who had been standing in long queues 

started rioting because they were concerned 

that voting stations would close before they’d 

cast their vote.

I reported this to the office. I then got a call 

from an older, white male colleague who insisted 

that he now take over the story. My colleague 

had the temerity to tell me, and my editor at the 

time, also an older white male, that perhaps he 

ought to take over the story because it was now 

night time and the situation was becoming a 

bit hairy. He didn’t think it was safe for me, as a 

young woman, to be out there. I was touched by 

his concern, but told him in no uncertain terms 

that I’d be able to cope. He seemed shocked. I 

recall that everyone in the newsroom, including 

my editor, found his suggestion condescending 

and inappropriate in the extreme. 

Often, of course, the discrimination isn’t as 

overt as that. And those are the truly troubling 

situations because you are often unsure whether 

what you are dealing with is indeed prejudice. 

With maturity and experience you learn to trust 

your instincts. For example, when a producer 

approaches my white male co-anchor about 

conducting a business or financial interview 

and doesn’t even make eye contact with me, 

the underlying assumption is that girls don’t 

get numbers and don’t know their deficits from 

their surpluses. So I speak up and question such 

maddening and flawed assumptions. 

The latest research by UCT’s Graduate 

School of Business into the glass-ceiling phenomenon 

says it all boils down to confidence. 

It found that despite a legal environment that 

seeks to promote equality in the work-place 

women internalise the inequality inherent in 

their environments. They start believing themselves 

unworthy and undeserving of leadership 

positions. The study says that companies 

need to invest in the empowerment of their 

female staff and also in the personal growth of 

their female leaders. As with most things, it all 

begins at home. 

BIogrAPhY 

Nikiwe Bikitsha is a multiaward-winning 

journalist. She has worked in broadcast 

journalism at Cape Talk 567, Talk Radio 702 

and CNBCAfrica. She was with SAFM as 

co-anchor of AMLive with John Perlman and 

hosted SABC’s current affairs show Interface. 

She is currently a co-anchor for the eNews 

Channel’s flagship show, News Night, alongside 

veteran broadcaster Jeremy Maggs, and writes 

a regular column for the Mail & Guardian. 

Bikitsha holds a BA honours in journalism 

and media studies from Wits University. She 

was recently awarded the Fullbright Hubert 

Humphrey fellowship for 2012/13 and will 

spend 10 months at a US university. She is a 

self-confessed soccer mom to a delightful and 

clever nine-year-old boy who brings sanity and 

meaning to her otherwise crazy life. 


‘‘ 

thuli gogela 

food blogger 

Indigenous food is our heritage and I would like to be part of 

keeping that heritage going. these days a lot of my peers are 

moving towards western food but I feel it’s important that we 

know and appreciate our food first. It’s what makes us who we are. 

’’ 

Thuli Gogela is a product developer and a food blogger who writes Mzansi Style Cuisine, in 

which she explores traditional and indigenous South African dishes from all cultural groups. 




‘‘ 

Zuleika mayat 

Author 

I know that you can achieve anything in life with 

the support of a community. I also know that you 

should carry on doing what you’re doing if you 

believe it is the right thing. Live what you believe, 

have grace and be humble; that’s the recipe for life. 

’’ 

Zuleikha Mayat is co-founder of the Women’s Cultural Group in Durban and author of several books, including the 

recipe book Indian Delights. She has an honorary doctorate in social sciences from the University of KwaZulu-Natal. 


Sarah munyai 

Potter 

If pottery is “a slow dance between the Earth 

and the potter’s hand”, as a writer poetically 

suggested, then for Sarah Munyai it has 

been a lifelong performance. She learned 

the traditional art of making clay pots when 

she was 11. She is now 91 and although her 80year 

dance with the Earth has become slower, 

gentler, it is by no means over. 

A petite woman, whose age has shrunk 

her to the size of a large pot, she still does her 

daily dance at Mukondeni Pottery, a project 

she started in 1980 to sustain and empower 

women and preserve an ancient craft. She no 

longer makes the enormous pots for which 

she was once acclaimed — her daughter, 

Certina, has taken over the day-to-day running 

of the project — but she still creates her own 

range of smaller pots and, as the wise elder of 

Mukondeni Pottery, continues to inspire and 

help other women. 


Munyai lives in Mashamba, a rural village 

near Elim, in the Vhembe district of Limpopo, 

home to the VhaVemba people, who have a 

long artistic tradition and a strong sense of 

culture and identity despite being historically 

marginalised. Her people migrated south of 

the Limpopo, settling in an abundant area 

they called Venda, meaning pleasant place. 

Their ancestors established Mapungubwe, a 

great civilisation that flourished in South Africa 

between the 9th and 12th centuries. 

Mashamba is a poor place, west of Louis 

Trichardt and set in the foothills of the Soutpansberg 

mountains, South Africa’s northernmost 

range. The road there is bumpy, dusty 

and donga-riddled. Goats and chickens wander 

across the road and curious children stare 

or wave as you pass. The village consists of a 

ramble of round thatched huts, some halfbuilt 

modern buildings, with a church and a 

school set under an acacia tree. But there is still 

a strong sense of community here; if you asked 

anyone within a 100km radius of Mashamba 

where to find Sarah, they’d know. 

It’s almost impossible to miss Mukondeni 

Pottery. The shed-like building is surrounded 

by hundreds, if not thousands, of clay pots. 

Small pots, big pots, long pots, round pots, tall 

pots. Enormous pots that evoke images of the 

Arabian Nights, plain pots awaiting colour and 

pattern, finished pots baking in the sun, their 

graphite designs gleaming silver. The humble 

building sits next to two thatched rondavels, 

a long-drop toilet, an outside shed for storing 

clay and equipment and an outdoor firing pit, 

the traditional African kiln. 

Inside the main building women sit on 

the floor coiling pots by hand, their children 

sleeping or playing nearby. Two old gogos are 

teaching a toddler how to get up and down


‘‘ 

there’s life and spirit at mukondeni. It’s more 

than a place for women to meet and 

make and sell their pottery; it’s a network of 

sisterhood, a matriarchal hub that exists in 

the spirit of an ancient tradition. 

’’ 

the steps. Outside there are women preparing 

the fire in which the pots will be baked as others 

sort out finished pots, which are displayed 

in batches on the bare ground. 

There’s life and spirit at Mukondeni. It’s more 

than a place for women to meet and make and 

sell their pottery; it’s a network of sisterhood, 

a matriarchal hub that exists in the spirit of an 

ancient tradition. 

For centuries the Venda women have made 

functional pots for eating, storing, serving, 

cooking, keeping beer. They have long decorated 

them with colours that occur naturally in 

the local earth and burnt local grasses to bake 

them. Their pottery tradition dates all the way 


back to Mapungubwe. 

“My mother taught me how to make pots 

when I was a girl, and her mother taught her 

before that,” says Munyai, translated by her 

daughter, Certina. “I taught Certina when 

she was a young girl. All our mothers and 

grandmothers and great-grandmothers made 

pots. My mother sold her pots for five cents. 

I remember how we used blankets to keep 

the clay wet before there was even plastic. 

For over 80 years I have made pots. I am still 

strong, however, not like my husband.” 

She laughs and does a comical impersonation 

of a makgogolo, an old person, all bent 

over, walking with difficulty using a stick, 

much to the delight of the two gogos with the 

toddler. Munyai is dressed very simply, in a pink 

dress, with a traditional white kanga or cloth 

around her waist and socks and white takkies 

on her feet. She sports a Zion Christian Church 

badge on her pocket and around her neck is a 

cellphone with a sticker that says “happy”. 

She never learned to read or write and, 

she says, has no riches to show for all the 

pots she has made and all the hours she has 

spent making them. But she has been able to 

provide for her family and that has made it all 

worthwhile. 

“Yes, I am happy,” Munyai says, pointing to 

the cellphone sticker. You get the feeling that 

even though material success is practically 

nonexistent she derives her pleasure from 

sheer artistic fulfilment. “Pottery is in my 

heart,” she says. “It is in the heart of Mashamba 

village.” 

Munyai and Certina show us around the 

cool, dark interior of Mukondeni, where women 

are at work preparing clay and making pots. 

There are no electric potters’ wheels here, no 

chemical glazes and no electric kilns. 

“We still use the traditional method of making 

and baking our pots,” says Munyai. “You 

need knowledge and patience. You need to 

know where to get the clay and how to prepare 

it. The clay comes, as it always has, from 

the nearby Tshipise River. It’s left for a few days, 

dampened. Then we begin the process of 

shaping the pots. We slowly build up the pots 

in coils and leave them to dry in stages.” 

Once the pots are made they are stained

with luvhundi (red ochre soil) and graphite and 

left to dry for a few more weeks. They are then 

fired in an open fire consisting of layers of grass 

and wood. “It can take up to a month for a big 

pot to be made,” says Sarah, gesturing to a 

half-finished giant pot. “Each one is a journey.” 

Some people have tried to get Mukondeni 

to use an electric kiln to fire the pots but Munyai 

still believes that the traditional method is 

better. Besides, electricity supply is a problem 

out here in Mashamba. 

We go outside again, to see the gallery or 

showcase, where an astonishing array of pots 

is simply displayed on the ground in batches, 

according to who made them. Munyai shows 

us those she has made recently — there must 

30 or 40 beautiful small, round pots, many of 

which have a simple fish design, a popular 

Venda symbol. She drops with ease on to 

bended knees to pick one up. Her hands are still 

strong and supple and she is amazingly agile for 

her age. 

It’s quite wondrous to imagine how many 

pots Sarah must have made in her lifetime: for 

80-odd years, five days a week. Even more so 

to think that she pioneered Mukondeni Pottery, 

became a major potter in her own right 

and had nine children. “Six are still alive,” she 

says philosophically. At 91, you see, these 

things happen. 

Although there was an extended family 

network in Mashamba to assist with looking 

after children, it was the need to provide for 

her own and to help other women to provide 

for theirs that kick-started the pottery. 

Munyai came up with the idea of getting 

women together collectively to promote traditional 

pottery to tourists and businesses. She 

started in 1980 with just five women. Today 

Mukondeni sustains some 50 women and their 

families in the village. 

Her gregarious personality and her talent 

made her the friendly face of Mukondeni Pottery 

for many years. She visited many places 

in South Africa, she says proudly, including 

Johannesburg and Durban, where she went 

to Indaba, the showcase of the South African 

travel industry, and she has travelled extensively 

within Limpopo province: to Giyani 

and Louis Trichardt, to Tzaneen, Phalaborwa, 

Waterval, Noko-wankowa, and more. Many 

people living in these areas still use traditional 

Venda pots in their daily lives, she says. 

Another driving force over the years has 

been her desire to preserve the matriarchal 

tradition of Venda pottery, which has been 

handed down from generation to generation, 

mother to daughter. Girl children and elderly 

women can play an important role here, she 

says, in carrying on the culture. 

The pottery spirit must course particularly 

strongly in Munyai blood. Certina is a master 

potter, currently working on several enormous 

pots that are practically the same height as 

she is. These creations are carefully packed 

and moved all around South Africa and the 

world, says Certina; they go to Cape Town, 

to Germany, to the United States. Like her 

mother, Certina is passionate about pottery, 

but is concerned that the world recession is 

slowing down tourism, which is also slowing 

down sales. That effect is felt here in Mashamba, 

where there are fewer visitors these days. 

Some days there are no sales at all. 

Munyai’s late daughter, Lilian, was also a 

renowned potter, whose individual works 

were widely collected in both the private and 

corporate sectors. “Her pots extend into gigantic 

feats of earth, shaped in human hands, 

colossal vessels and flower pots,” a critic once 

wrote of Lilian’s work. “The designs in graphite 

move organically on the surface, sometimes 

shining, other times swallowing itself, as is the 

nature of the mineral.” 

Munyai’s own slow dance with the Earth 

will surely also be remembered in such graceful 

terms. Her contribution to Venda art is 

already firmly located in a proud tradition in 

which women are gaining recognition. But out 

here in Mashamba, in the baking sun, where 

there are no newspapers or books, no running 

water and the electricity supply is erratic, the 

lifetime work of Sarah Munyai seems extrodinarily 

poignant. She has combined creativity 

and resourcefulness and she has given her 

whole life to it. An unsung heroine, indeed. 

— Bridget Hilton-Barber 

Bridget Hilton-Barber is a freelance writer 

who lives in Limpopo. 



At 81 Marjorie Manganye is still energetic 

and hands on. “Ma”, as she is 

affectionately known, is the founder 

of the Itlhokomeleng (Sesotho 

for “help yourself”) Association for 

Aged and Disabled Persons. 

Whenever Ma appears the residents and 

staff of the home stop what they’re doing to 

listen to her, to answer her enquiries about 

their wellbeing or to talk about what must be 

done for the day. 

The story of why Ma Manganye began her 

work with the elderly is not one she likes to talk 

about. For years she had had visions predicting 

that her work lay in service to others. She didn’t 

quite understand them until one Wednesday 

afternoon in 1978. Manganye was working as 

a tuberculosis information officer when an 

elderly woman died while waiting to receive 

her state pension. 

marjorie manganye 

elderly home founder 

“I knew then that this was the thing God 

had been calling me to do — to help elderly 

people who had no one.” The following 

Monday she resigned from her job. 

That year she established Itlhokomeleng. 

The project began as a women’s club in a 

church and, although she has gone on to 

become chief executive of the association, 

she is adamant that it is a “community project”, 

with residents from Alexandra volunteering 

their services. Believing that old-age homes 

should not merely be places where old people 

are left to live out their final days, she encourages 

younger people to become involved in 

the home. Now a few young people have permanent 

jobs there and share her passion. 

She never strove to become the “Mother 

Theresa of Alexandra”, nor did she imagine 

that she would meet and spend time with 

Cabinet ministers or President Jacob Zuma, 

who recognised the value of her work. All she 

wanted, on that day many years ago, was to 

create a place where the elderly and disabled 

would feel cared for. One of the more famous 

residents of Itlhokomeleng was Hector Peterson’s 

father, who lived out his final days there. 

Itlhokomeleng, which cares for 91 elderly 

and disabled people, has a staff of 54 who 

ensure that all the residents receive healthcare, 

nutritious meals, security, comfortable living 

quarters and, most of all, individual attention. 

No one is turned away. Whether they are 

brought in by the police, by the community 

or they hear of her services on a community 

radio station, they know they have a home at 

Itlhokomeleng. 

“I’m 81 years old, but I keep going because 

of the love I get from everyone.” 


‘‘ 

faith47 

Artist 

the identity of the artist is in many ways irrelevant as it can 

distract the viewer from the actual artwork being created. 

the artist is a mirror on society. my work is inspired by nature 

and by human nature — exploring how the two reflect 

each other. I’m interested in alchemy and the mystery of 

existence, in symbols, time and the riddles of humanity. 

’’ 

Cape Town-based Faith47 is South Africa’s pre-eminent female graffiti artist. Her work, exhibited on abandoned walls around 

the globe, is world-renowned and respected for its social conscience. This is an image she created to represent herself. 




‘‘ 

theo Steele 

union organiser 

while I was living in kwaZulu-natal we started a community 

project where everyone would club together and contribute 

r50 towards a kitty. we would go to the vegetable market, 

buy a truckload of vegetables and share them. without that 

communal effort we would not have survived. 

’’ 

Theo Steele has been active in union structures for most of her working life and currently heads trade-union federation 

Cosatu’s organisations department in Johannesburg. She is passionate about solidarity and planning campaigns. 


‘‘ 

Sheila flynn 


within extremely circumscribed lives and ongoing struggle the 

women of kopanang find an expansive creativity that not only 

empowers them, enabling them to believe in themselves — perhaps 

for the first time — but also sustains their families and gives them 

hope for the future. this is an experience of absolute freedom and joy. 

’’ 

Sheila Flynn is a Dominican sister and founder of the Kopanang Community Trust on the East Rand, which provides 

women affected by HIV/Aids and unemployment with community support and an income derived through craft-making. 




koketso moeti 

Communications officer 

‘‘ 

there is no shame in asking for help when it 

is needed. too often I would prevent things 

from happening, merely because I had 

attempted to do it myself and did not ask 

others for help when it was needed. 

’’ 

Koketso Moeti is project co-ordinator and communications officer for Operation: Rooigrond, a community project that aims to break 

the poverty cycle. She is also a correspondent for Safe World and North West co-ordinator of the South African NGO Coalition. 


‘‘ 

Zamo Shongwe 

education co-ordinator 

Both of my parents are teachers and weren’t just interested in 

us doing well, but about finding out who you are in order to excel. 

they’d say, ‘If you find out who you are, that becomes your act of 

service to the world.’ I thought everyone grew up thinking like that. 

’’ 

Zamo Shongwe is the national co-ordinator of Ikamva Youth, an NGO that focuses on 

empowering young people through education, e-literacy training and career guidance. 




‘‘ 

funeka Soldaat 

gender activist 

People have the misconception that homosexuality is 

unAfrican; that ‘butch’ lesbians want to be men or have 

been disappointed by their boyfriends. But we just want 

to be ourselves, and for people to leave us alone. 

’’ 

Funeka Soldaat is co-founder and project co-ordinator of the Khayelitsha-based Free Gender, a group that raises 

awareness of the rights of lesbian and bisexual women in the community. She has been a victim of homophobic violence. 


‘‘ 

kirsten goss 

Jewellery designer 

mistakes happen. the more you make 

the less you’re afraid of; we’re all more 

resilient than we think we are and every 

challenge is just part of the tapestry. 

’’ 

Kirsten Goss is a jewellery designer and gemologist, business owner, entrepreneur and mother. She launched her first jewellery 

store in London in 2002 to critical acclaim before opening stores in South Africa and hosting shows all over the world. 



Portrait of my mother 

Nozizwe Cynthia Jele on the single parent, the 

nurse, the storyteller and the voice of reason 

I. The Birthday Girl 

It is the last day of June, my mother’s birthday 

as reflected on her identity document. This is 

not her real birth date. My mother was born on 

June 11 1954 but owing to the sloppiness of a 

certain home affairs official, or Undabazabantu, 

as they were referred to in those days, June 30 

was registered. My mother has never bothered 

to correct the error; she is not burdened by 

small technicalities. Besides, she asserts, who is 

to say with certainty that the 11th is, in fact, the 

correct date? Her mother is illiterate. 

My younger brother, Lindani, family members 

and I have planned to throw a surprise birthday 

party for her. As far as I can remember this is the 

first time she has ever celebrated her birthday 

with a party — she has never asked for one. 

The weekend of her birthday coincides with 

my father’s tombstone unveiling, a bittersweet 

time for us. My grandmother and mother’s 


three sisters, strong black women I’ve known all 

my life, and other family members are here to 

support her. The unveiling ceremony took place 

earlier — the dead are visited in the morning — 

now we celebrate the living. The birthday girl 

is emotionally overwhelmed as my aunt brings 

in the cake, with five burning candles, and 

everyone erupts into a birthday song. 

“O, Nkosi yami,” my mother starts, but 

chokes. Her eyes glisten with tears. 

“Hhayi, Thokozile, stop crying and blow the 

candles. We want to eat cake,” someone says, 

and the room erupts in laugher. My mother 

blows out the candles. 

II. The Mine Girl 

My mother was born in the small coal-mining 

town of KwaMnyathi, outside Vryheid in Kwa- 

Zulu-Natal. She is the fifth child in a family of 

eight, the last of four girls. I take delight in lis- 

tening to her growing-up stories — life on the 

mines, learning to brew sorghum beer to assist 

her mother who sold it to the community to 

support her family, entering nursing college 

— not as a preferred career choice but as a 

way of escaping poverty and the mining life. 

(Nurses-in-training lived on hospital premises 

and earned a little income in those days; four 

of my five uncles, her brothers, would employ 

the same strategy by joining the apartheid 

police force, a decision they would struggle 

with for most of their lives). But my favourite 

story is the one about how she met my father. 

My mother had to find another hospital at 

which to complete her practical training. At 

the tender age of 20 or so, she could think of 

no better place than Johannesburg. Openings 

for trainee nurses had been advertised at an 

unknown hospital somewhere in the Eastern 

Transvaal. My mother and a friend reasoned

that the hospital had to be fairly close to their 

intended destination; after all, Johannesburg 

was in the Transvaal, right? Not. Of course they 

would learn, upon arriving at the training college 

in the middle of nowhere, that they were 

very far from the City of Gold. Nevertheless, it 

is here that she met my father, a tennis-playing 

local businessman. They had me after a few 

months of romance; my brother followed two 

years later. 

III. The Nurse 

The earliest memory I have of my mother is 

of her in a nurse’s uniform. She is wearing a 

knee-length white dress, brown stockings 

and brown shoes with thick soles. Her white 

nurse’s cap sits curiously perched on her neatly 

combed Afro hair and it will stay like that 

until she returns home in the late afternoon. 

The red epaulets with their colourful brass 

buttons — which, I would learn much later, 

represent a specific qualification: midwifery, 

primary health care — break the sterility of 

the white uniform. On chilly days she puts on a 

navy-blue jersey. She always carries a brown or 

black handbag on her right shoulder. 

My mother leaves us in the care of our 

grandmother, her mother, and makes her way 

to the hospital, which is some distance away 

but visible from our house. Her strides are fast 

— tap, tap, tap — her body upright; there’s an 

air of assurance in her walk, her posture. She 

is beautiful, slim and fair, to my young self’s 

mind exactly the way a nurse should look. The 

greatest knowledge I have is that this beautiful 

woman is my mother and I’m proud. 

My mother still practises as a nurse, specifically 

looking after TB and HIV/Aids patients in 

the Nkomazi District. Despite the frustrations 

she approaches her work with the same vigour 

she did many years ago. Helping others is truly 

her calling; I don’t see her doing anything else. 

IV. The Single Parent 

My parents separated for a few years soon after 

my brother was born. We went to stay with my 

maternal grandmother and my mother’s two 

younger brothers. I only have fond memories 

of my childhood days in Madadeni, a lively 

township outside Newcastle. 

My parents were reunited after bumping 

into each other at a mutual friend’s wedding. 

Without wasting time it was decided that the 

“family order” had to be restored — mother 

duck and her ducklings had to return to father 

duck. Within months we left KZN for sunny 

Mpumalanga — my 10-year-old self kicking 

and screaming, my universe shattered, and 

my poor mother assuring me that we were 

going to be fine, that our father loved us so 


‘‘ 

Ah, my liberal mother, who only wants 

one or two grandchildren by her only 

daughter. nothing more. why am I being 

a difficult daughter? this nonsense about 

waiting for the right partner must end. 

much, which is why he had come back for 

us. I had never thought of how it must have 

been for my mother for all those years, raising 

two children out of wedlock while her three 

sisters had married and moved away from 

home. I’ve only recently thought of the compromise 

she made in taking my father back, 

leaving a life she had rebuilt since the split — 

her job, friends, lovers — for us. 

V. The Mother 

I am a good daughter, have always been. I 

never went through the rebellious teenage 

years, my mother never had to take me to a 

boy’s family to report the “damages” nor did 


’’ 

my parents ever experience the typical volatile 

moods, dropped phone calls or coded whistles 

that typically came just after suppertime. 

Then again, my mother was wise enough 

to recommend that I be shipped to a boarding 

school as soon as I started high school. I 

was, however, a lazy child, which got me into 

numerous troubles with her. 

I could never be trusted to complete a simple 

household chore. I can’t count the number of 

times I found myself at the receiving end of 

a damp dishcloth, a wooden spoon with the 

complimentary titbits of drying pap, or a shoe 

right off her foot, because I had abandoned the 

pots, letting them smoulder into black ash, for 

one more game of “ma-rounders” or “shumpu”. 

The bigger offence here was interrupting 

my mother’s daily dose of The Bold and the 

Beautiful or Days of Our Lives and forcing her to 

salvage artfully whatever remained of the dish 

or make another plan for dinner before my 

father came home from work. 

My mother has the heart of a saint. I remember 

when I was in high school, every few years I 

would come home during school holidays and 

find a “new” member of the family — a Sipho, 

Mandla, Thembi — some destitute child who 

needed a place to stay in order to complete his 

or her matric. She took them all in. 

VII. The Learner and Storyteller 

Another vivid memory I have of my mother is 

when she decided to go back to school. She 

had only gone as far as completing the Junior 

Certificate but had dreamed of getting her 

matric. I was in grade 7. The novel, I Heard the 

Owl Call My Name by Margaret Craven, was a set 

book for her English class. I remember how she 

used to read this book out loud, describing with 

passion and empathy the story of Mark Brian, 

a young missionary sent to a Native Canadian 

village called Kingcome in British Columbia. 

Mark is suffering from a fatal disease but he’s 

unaware of this. My mother told the story as if 

it was a first-hand account; as if she was there 

in the village. She was terribly upset when Mark 

died. I was in my early teens at the time and 

had just discovered romance novels, which I 

thought were much more interesting than 

a book about a dying man in some faraway

village. It wasn’t until much later when I picked 

up the book at a second-hand bookstore that I 

understood why my mother loved it. 

VII. The Desperate 

Grandmother-in-Waiting 

My mother and I have only one standing 

disagreement — the fact that at my age I 

haven’t given her a grandchild. When she 

was my age I was already 14 years old! Our 

conversation on motherhood started in 

earnest when I turned 30. 

“I would love to have a grandchild or two 

from my only daughter, but I’m not pushing 

you. I’m only saying it would be nice to hold 

little Nombuso or Thembele.” Of course, my 

nonexistent children already have names. 

Over the years our discussions on this issue 

have shifted from friendly and advisory to 

mildly frustrated and, recently, downright 

furious. 

“I just don’t understand why you have not 

had a child. I don’t understand where you get 

this idea that you must meet a right man and 

get married before you have children. Frankly, 

you have so many choices today, what with all 

this technology, you don’t even need a partner 

to become a mother. And you know I will 

help you raise the child.” 

Ah, my liberal mother, who only wants 

one or two grandchildren by her only daughter. 

Nothing more. Why am I being a difficult 

daughter? This nonsense about waiting for 

the right partner must end. 

VIII. My Hero and The Voice 

of Reason 

As I grow older I’ve come to listen more and 

more to what my mother has to say. I now 

fully recognise and appreciate her intelligence 

and wisdom. Though she is a middle child, her 

opinions hold great weight with her sisters 

and brothers and even her own mother. I’ve 

heard her asked, directly or indirectly, time 

after time: “We sisi, manje wen’uthini? What 

should be done here?” My grandmother 

rarely takes a big decision without consulting 

her: “Uthini uThokozile?” My mother takes 

pleasure in this. “How the tables have turned, 

the youngest are the oldest. Did you know 

it was going to come to this?” Although I’m 

strangely starting to sound and even behave 

like her, I don’t have her wisdom. 

I value each day I have with my mother. 

Perhaps the biggest regret is that I don’t see 

her every day, something I hope I can change 

soon. That and the grandchild situation, of 

course. 

BIogrAPhY 

Nozizwe Cynthia Jele is a South Africanborn 

writer who grew up in a small border 

town in Mpumalanga. She holds a BTech in 

environmental health from the then Natal 

Technikon and a BA in international business 

from North Central College in Illinois, in the 

United States. Cynthia’s claim to fame was 

winning first and fourth prize in the 2008 BTA/ 

Anglo-Platinum Short Story Competition. 

Her debut novel, Happiness Is a Four-Letter 

Word, won the Best First Book category (Africa 

region) in the Commonwealth Writers’ Prize 

2011, as well as the 2011 M-Net Literary Award 

in the Film category. The novel was also 

shortlisted for the 2011 Booksellers 

Choice Award. 



Sara Blecher 

filmmaker 

‘‘ 

what gave us the courage we needed during the revolution was that the world 

was black and white. right and wrong were so clear. But now that we have 

won our freedom we have the luxury (or is that rather the burden? ) of seeing 

all the layers of gray between. It’s a little like that with getting older. everything 

becomes a nuanced shade of grey, only now we call it wisdom. 

’’ 

Sara Blecher produced and directed the award-winning Otelo Burning. She uses the medium of film to 

entertain, while surreptitiously educating and taking the viewer on a journey into other people’s worlds. 


‘‘ 

Lillian masebenza 

Social entrepreneur 

greed has to be eradicated for a win-win social change to 

take place. Social entrepreneurship is about empowering 

others so they can improve their lives. It is about maximising 

the power of the collective for the benefit of all involved. 

’’ 

Sixty-three-year-old Lillian Masebenza is the founder of Mhani Gingi, a social entrepreneurial network that helps 

disadvantaged people to build businesses. She won an Ashoka Fellowship for pioneering her innovative, replicable model. 


JAC DE VILLIERS 



nomonde Calata met her future 

husband, Fort, when they were both 

very young, and she fell head over 

heels in love with him. They married 

and lived in the Eastern Cape town of 

Cradock — already well on its way to becoming 

a struggle crucible in the 1980s. 

A teacher, he was also a fierce anti-apartheid 

activist. When he and three others (the 

Cradock Four) were tortured and killed by the 

security police in 1985, Calata was 25 years old 

and seven months pregnant with their third 

child, Thamani. 

Her wail of raw grief when she had to relive 

the horror of her husband’s death before the 

Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) 

in 1996 became one of the TRC’s defining 

moments. 

“I lost everything. I lost my husband, my 

friend, my child’s father. I loved him. I was about 

nomonde Calata 


to have a baby when he died. He wanted a girl. 

I wanted a boy. The day he left I was supposed 

to go to the doctor. The last thing he said was: ‘I 

want a girl. Tell the doctor.’ When she was born 

I couldn’t even take her in my arms.” 

Because of the association with her husband, 

Calata lost her job as a nurse at the local hospital. 

Later she got a job in a clothes shop by using 

her maiden name, but nearly lost that too when 

it emerged she was Mrs Calata. 

She still suffers from her husband’s death. 

She still has vivid dreams about him. She bears 

his memory like a torch. Like the other widows 

of the Cradock Four, she has never married 

again. 

Calata is seen as a pillar of the Cradock 

community; people approach her for help 

and advice and she’s only too willing to assist 

where she can. She worries about plans to 

frack the Karoo for shale gas. She’s helping 

Thamani to raise her children. She’s investigating 

the purchase of a bakery in the township, 

which she wants to staff with women, and all 

the while she hangs on to the vision for South 

Africa that her husband held so dear. 

Like the other widows, she not only bears 

the weight of her husband’s death but also 

what he stood for and sometimes, when 

things look bleak, her strength wavers and she 

wonders: “is this what my husband died for?”. 

“Things are not perfect in Cradock, but I’m 

seeing positive changes. When white people 

speak to me, they respect my husband, and 

say they now realise he was a teacher, not a 

terrorist. 

“I see hope in the town’s integrated schools. 

When Thamani went to Cradock Primary and 

Cradock High, she didn’t see races any more, 

just people. These children are colour-blind. 

Fort would have liked that.” 


nedbank helps to keep 

SA’s women on a roll 

whereas most South Africans fortunate enough to live in developed 

urban areas take easy access to running water for granted, for thousands 

of women and children in rural areas accessing water is a physically 

demanding daily chore. through its support of the hippo rollers project 

nedbank group is helping to make life a little easier for them. 

PHOTOGRaPHy By GRaNT GIBBS. WWW.HIPPOROLLeR.ORG 


for the women and children of rural 

South Africa, collecting the water 

they need to meet their day-today 

household requirements is an 

intensely laborious process, often 

involving lengthy treks to a water source 

followed by a backbreaking walk back 

home laden with heavy and unwieldy water 

containers. 

The weight of the water limits the amount 

that can be carried in a single trip and because 

the water is used to meet the needs of entire 

households the supply is soon used up, so the 

process must be repeated frequently. 

Apart from the health risks associated with 

transporting and storing drinking water in open 

containers that were not made for the purpose, 

the process of collecting the water can wreak 

havoc on the physical health of the women 

and children doing it. Research by the Human 


Sciences Research Council of South Africa has 

shown that the traditional method of carrying 

the buckets — most of which weigh more 

than 25kg when full — on the head can cause 

permanent neck and spine damage. 

The long-term solution requires social 

upliftment and infrastructure development 

that will take many years to complete. In the 

meantime these women desperately need 

short-term solutions to relieve the physical 

demands water collection places on them. 

In 2010 Nedbank Group’s desire to help to 

provide an immediate, workable alternative 

to the bucket method of water collection 

saw the country’s “green and caring” bank 

partnering with Imvubu Projects to fund the 

provision of its innovative Hippo Rollers to 

rural communities across South Africa. 

The Hippo Roller is a simple but highly 

effective water transportation device. It 

consists of a large UV-resistant polyethylene 

drum with a handlebar, making it possible for 

one person to transport up to 90 litres of water 

easily. The strong materials and construction of 

the device mean it can be rolled over the most 

rugged terrain and the because the water 

is sealed inside a closed drum made from 

sanitary materials means the water quality isn’t 

compromised. 

According to Grant Gibbs, founder of the 

Hippo Rollers project, the effort used to move 

the Hippo Roller is about five times less than 


that associated with carrying water on the 

head, which means these devices will also 

have significant physical health benefits for 

the people who use them. 

Thanks to the support of the Nedbank 

Foundation, Nedbank Group’s primary 

corporate social investment arm, almost 

4 000 Hippo Rollers have now been provided 

to disadvantaged rural communities in the 

Northern Cape, Eastern Cape, Mpumalanga 

and KwaZulu-Natal. In the three years it has 

been providing support to the Hippo Rollers 

project the Nedbank Foundation has invested 

more than R7-million. 

“We in the community used to struggle to get 

water before we received these rollers. I was 

carrying water from the river using a bucket. My 

chest would clog up and it would be hard for me. 

Now that we have these rollers from Nedbank, our 

lives are much easier.” Nobandla Ngoza; Hippo 

Roller recipient. 

In many communities each Hippo Roller 

benefits a number of households as community 

members share the water they collect 

or take turns using the device to collect their 

water before transferring it to other household 

containers. 

The distribution of the Hippo Rollers is 

undertaken in consultation with the leaders of 

the recipient communities to ensure that they 

are equitably distributed and made available 

to those who face the most difficult challenges 

in getting their water. 

According to Kone Gugushe, divisional 

executive of corporate social investment for 

Nedbank Group, the bank’s involvement in 

the Hippo Rollers project was the result of 

engagement between Nedbank and a number 

of communities through which access to water 

was consistently identified by community 

members as a key challenge in their daily lives. 

“As a bank with a stated aspiration to 

be highly involved in the community and 

the environment, supporting this project 

affords Nedbank another opportunity to 

contribute to the upliftment of disadvantaged 

individuals and communities,” says Gugushe. 

“And by focusing particularly on households 

where women, children or the elderly find 

themselves as the primary providers for their 

families, we hope that by easing the arduous 

task of water collection, Nedbank will make a 

tangible, positive difference to their lives.” 

The Hippo Rollers project represents yet 

another way in which Nedbank Group makes 

life-changing investments in communities. 

The project builds on Nedbank’s previous 

support of social upliftment initiatives 

involving the donation and installation of 

rainwater — harvesting tanks and boreholes 

— bringing vital water supplies to people in 

some of the most arid areas of the country.

Zee harduth 

nedbank finance. CA training Programme: training manager 

As a mother of twins and manager of a training 

programme with more than 30 trainees, Zee 

Harduth has her work cut out for her. Which 

makes it all the more impressive that she also 

finds time to assist her husband in his business 

and offer her many talents and skills to various 

community upliftment projects. 

Her commitment to helping others 

recently led to her tackling a mammoth 

project involving the complete renovation 

and upgrade of a paediatric ward at Charlotte 

Maxeke Hospital. As she does so often, Harduth 

led the entire project from planning to 

fundraising, co-ordinating suppliers to enlisting 

and managing volunteers. 

Thanks to her vision, passion and willingness 

to roll up her sleeves and lead by example — 

even when it came to the most challenging of 

manual labour requirements — the project was 

a huge success, with the ward now considered 

by many to be of a higher standard than many 

similar facilities in private hospitals. 

Incredibly, Zee Harduth managed to do all 

this with her usual levels of excellence and her 

uncompromising attention to detail while still 

managing her many day-to-day professional 

and personal responsibilities. 

In everything Harduth undertakes she 

never gives anything less than her all. Her 

work ethic, personal values and people skills 

are an inspiration to everyone around her and 

her ability always to see the bigger picture 

makes her a valuable problem-solver and an 

exceptional leader. 


Amanda Smith 

nedbank wealth. team manager 

Leading a team of 40 driven and highly 

competitive professionals is not a job for just 

any person. Which is why Nedbank gave it to a 

remarkable woman — Amanda Smith, whose 

leadership abilities, values and contagiously 

positive attitude have seen her make an 

indelible mark on the environment in which 

she works. 

Despite facing many challenges Smith 

has risen rapidly to a position in which 

she commands the utmost respect and 

admiration in what many would deem a highly 

competitive and demanding environment. 

Her resourcefulness, creativity and intelligent 

approach have contributed to the creation 

of a highly cohesive team with a desire to 

overachieve. 

Smith’s determination to succeed is balanced 


by a sincere concern for the wellbeing of those 

who report to her. She treats every person with 

respect, dignity and fairness and has the ability to 

find the opportunity in all situations. 

By demonstrating her trust in the potential 

and abilities of others, she inspires them to 

give of their best, secure in the knowledge that 

her door is always open to them should they 

require assistance, guidance or advice in order 

to achieve their objectives. 

Smith is a consummate professional, a 

proven strategist and a supportive leader. 

All these qualities are evident not just in the 

sustained financial contribution her team 

makes to the business but also in her obvious 

ability to inspire her colleagues and team 

members to ever greater heights of personal 

and combined achievement.

Ayn Brown 

nedbank human resources. executive organisational Development 

Ayn Brown is the epitome of a true leader. Her 

colleagues know her as an understanding, 

caring and committed individual who always 

places the wellbeing of others before her own. 

Her empathy allows her to respond and act with 

sincerity and fairness, and her determination 

to see others succeed is clearly evident in her 

willingness always to invest her own time, effort 

and expertise in the betterment of those 

around her. 

Brown’s determination to make a positive 

and lasting difference to others is further 

demonstrated through her other passion — 

photography. She selflessly uses her creative 

talent to touch the hearts of less fortunate 

individuals and communities. By taking unique 

photographs of disadvantaged, ill or injured 

children she is able to capture and showcase 

their individual beauty regardless of their 

challenging circumstances. 

Brown gives these images to the people she 

photographs — many of whom have never 

seen a picture of themselves, thereby lifting 

their spirits and making them aware of their 

beauty and potential. 

Whether she’s guiding her colleagues to 

greater personal heights or using her gift for 

photography to bring a smile to someone’s 

face, She lives her passion in every respect. 

She motivates those around her always to 

strive to be better at everything they do. Her 

efficiency, planning skills, self-discipline and 

passion serve as a constant reminder of the 

extraordinary things that can be achieved simply 

through a sincere desire to make a difference. 


esther gardner 

nedbank group risk. receptionist 

Esther Gardner’s influence as a motivator and communicator extends far 

beyond her job as a receptionist. Her positive attitude and dedication to 

serving others is an inspiration to all who deal with her. 

A committed team player, Gardner has a natural ability to encourage 

others to become involved, particularly when it comes to improving 

the lives of those less fortunate. In addition to her work in creating in 

the workplace an awareness of social responsibility opportunities, she is 

actively involved in her community and church helping those affected 

by HIV/Aids to deal with the health, social and financial challenges 

they face. 

But Gardner’s most effective example is set through the humility, 

respect and sincerity that characterise all her interactions. Her love of life 

and gratitude for the opportunities she is given prompt her colleagues 

to be more grateful for what they have and make them want to be 

better people — and there can be no more valuable human quality 

than that. 


Julie Vetter 

executive After-Sales Service for mfC, 

a division of nedbank 

Julie Vetter faces a potentially overwhelming workload and numerous 

obstacles. But this remarkable woman never allows the challenges of 

managing the aftercare operations for South Africa’s second-largest 

motor finance house to overwhelm her. 

Vetter remains calm, regardless of the difficulties she is faced with 

or the crises she is called on to manage, and her ability to balance 

expertly her professional and personal responsibilities is an inspiration 

to the women she leads. 

Through her openness and humility as a leader, combined with 

the trust and respect with which she treats the managers and staff 

who report to her, she motivates them to push beyond their own 

boundaries, strive for higher levels of personal excellence and exceed 

their targets and objectives. 

In all her actions Vetter displays integrity, dignity and quiet 

confidence, and her balanced and calm approach to life and work 

makes a tangible difference to the lives of others.

Lillian Venkanna 

nedbank retail. team Leader 

Lillian Venkanna, an accomplished and inspiring team leader within 

Nedbank, is also well known for the invaluable work she does in 

her local community — most notably, the youth development 

programme she oversees at her church. 

Venkanna demonstrates to the next generation of South African 

adults and leaders the importance and value of humility, compassion 

and genuine care — character traits that make a positive difference. 

At any given time she will be found buying gifts (at her own 

expense) for disadvantaged people, hosting parties for children from 

poorer communities or inviting senior citizens from local homes to her 

house to enjoy a home-cooked meal. 

She serves as a constant reminder to her colleagues, friends and the 

young people in her community that any thoughtful action can make 

a positive and lasting difference when it is carried out with sincerity 

and love. 

nirmala reddy 

nedbank Business Banking. Senior manager 

enterprise Development 

As senior manager of enterprise development Nirmala Reddy is in a 

position to make a positive impact on South Africa’s economic future 

and she embraces this opportunity fully. Her belief in the power of 

entrepreneurship and the importance of providing enabling platforms for 

emerging entrepreneurs translates into tangible benefits for the hundreds 

of aspiring and existing business owners she supports through her 

carefully planned programme of enterprise development interventions. 

To Reddy these current and future business owners are a critical 

component of growth for the economy of South Africa. This is why 

she never wavers in her commitment to ensuring that the necessary 

support, guidance and encouragement are harnessed and channelled 

to the entrepreneurs to enable them to achieve their business vision 

and realise their personal dreams. 

Reddy’s boundless energy, contagious enthusiasm and can-do 

attitude are an inspiration to everyone who has the privilege of 

meeting or working with her. She exemplifies the determination and 

passion found in so many South African women. 


Jo-Anne hendricks 

nedbank retail. manager 

As a team manager you would expect Jo-Anne 

Hendricks to be a level-headed individual with 

strong planning and organisational skills. And 

you would be right. But she is far more than 

that. Although her job requires her to lead her 

team effectively, her dedication to helping 

others to realise their full potential is what 

makes her the successful leader she is. 

Her belief in the importance of using her 

talents to help others inspires her team members 

and colleagues to become actively involved in 

community service and upliftment projects. 

Hendricks sets the benchmark in service to 

others and can routinely be found conducting 

fundraising activities, canvassing for donations of 

essential items for charities, or collecting food for 

patients at clinics and hospitals in her area. 

Whether she is exceeding targets, managing 


people, or balancing her many work, family, 

community and church commitments, 

Hendricks always gives 100%. 

Her colleagues and team members know 

her as a good listener, an understanding leader 

and a sincere friend. She has a talent for making 

others feel heard and recognised and an ability 

to find creative ways of resolving conflict so 

that all parties feel they have been treated with 

fairness and respect. 

In addition to her professional and 

community commitments Hendricks fulfils her 

role as wife and mother of two children, while 

also finding the time to study towards her 

BCom degree through Unisa. 

She demonstrates, on a daily basis, what can 

be achieved through discipline, passion and 

hard work.

marinda honey 

nedbank Corporate. regional operations manager 

They say if you want something done, give it to 

a busy person — and Marinda Honey is proof 

of just how true that statement is. 

As a regional operations manager for 

Nedbank Property Finance, a division of 

Nedbank Corporate, she wears a great many 

hats but, despite her massive workload, 

she still manages always to find the time to 

help and guide others, contribute to various 

sustainability and innovation initiatives and 

indulge in her many personal passions, among 

them painting, travelling and learning new 

languages. 

A born leader, Honey is adept at finding ways 

of optimising processes to improve operational 

efficiency. However, her commitment to doing 

things better is balanced by her dedication to 

helping others realise their full potential, so the 

processes she develops and implements are 

never established at the expense of any of the 

individuals she leads. 

Her ability to see beyond the obvious and 

assess the impact of today’s decisions on 

tomorrow’s reality make her an inspired leader 

and a true visionary. Both these character traits 

have resulted in Honey heading diverse areas of 

business and projects throughout Nedbank Group. 

She has a contagious love of life and a 

positive attitude towards even the toughest 

of challenges. This, combined with her 

methodical planning abilities, perfectionist 

nature and exceptional management skills, has 

earned her the utmost respect of her peers and 

the love and admiration of her colleagues and 

team members. 


ooksana Saib 

nedbank retail. team Leader 

To her colleagues Rooksana Saib epitomises the qualities of patience, 

empathy and caring. Despite her many responsibilities as a team leader 

she makes time to offer others the benefit of her vast experience and 

passion for excellence. 

All her actions stem from respect, warmth and a genuine concern 

for others. As a result, her colleagues and clients know they can depend 

on Saib to be a pillar of strength and a source of support in both their 

personal and their professional lives. 

Saib is a natural leader and a disciplined planner and achiever. When 

she sets her heart and mind on an objective she achieves it, regardless 

of the challenges. Her positive attitude and her optimism attract others 

to work alongside her and accompany her on her journey to higher 

levels of success. 

As a true ‘people person’ Saib’s commitment always to do her best is 

exceeded only by her selfless desire to help others to achieve their full 

potential, and all her core values are brought to life in the 

productivity, dignity and spirit of the team she leads. 


tessa Armstrong 

nedbank retail. Branch manager 

Nedbank Retail branch manager Tessa Armstrong faces many challenges. 

However, she is able not only to rise above every obstacle but 

also turns it into an opportunity. 

Despite an environment often characterised by negative feedback 

and difficult situations, Armstrong remains resolutely upbeat. Her 

positive energy and can-do attitude make her the perfect leader, and 

her determination always to bring out the best in her staff gives them 

the opportunity to grow and develop as people and as professionals. 

As a manager Armstrong is naturally skilled at planning and 

organising, but her talents go much further. Her high levels of 

empathy and understanding give her insights into the difficulties her 

team members may be facing and enable her to work with them to 

develop solutions that will not only enable them to deliver on their 

objectives but also to grow and flourish. 

Armstrong is not only a wife, mother, grandmother, role-model, 

leader and friend, she is a truly inspirational South African woman.

Vani govender 

nedbank retail. recoveries Call Centre Agent 

Despite her youth, Vani Govender has achieved more than many people 

will in a lifetime. Known by her colleagues and friends for her big actions 

and even bigger heart, she devotes most of her time to improving the 

lives of others. 

From empowering and developing various young people through 

an annual Chatsworth Charity Relay Association Youth Leadership 

Programme, which began after the Throb Niteclub disaster in her 

community in 2000, to clowning around as “Bubbles the Clown” at 

children’s parties at a local hospice and hospitals, Govender is never 

happier than when she is helping somebody else. She is also an active 

Rotarian and, in 2011, her passion for making a positive difference took her 

halfway across the world to India to vaccinate children against polio. 

Her dedication and big heart are not just evident in her philanthropy, 

they also make her a much loved and appreciated member of her 

professional community. Her strong beliefs, faultless work ethic and 

excellent planning and execution skills ensure that no matter what task she 

undertakes she carries it out in a way that inspires and motivates others. 

kathleen Sinclair 

nedbank retail. team Leader Client Service flagship 

Kathleen Sinclair is far more than a team leader, she is an inspiration. 

Despite facing a number of challenges herself in the past year she has 

put the wellbeing of others ahead of her own needs. She is able to 

draw strength from her experiences and transfer it to the many friends 

and colleagues who come to her in their times of need. 

No challenge is too big or situation too overwhelming for Sinclair. 

Her level-headedness, calm demeanour under pressure, meticulous 

planning skills and inclusive management style make her a loved and 

respected leader and friend. 

Her organisational skills make her a valuable asset in the 

high-pressure environment in which she and her team operate and 

the mere fact that she is at the helm is often reason enough for the 

members of the team to give their all, even in the face of the most 

daunting of challenges. She is an exceptional manager, a natural 

motivator and a true leader. 


Shafiequa’h Valli 

nedbank group finance. head financial transaction Processing 

Shafiequa’h Valli is living proof of what can be 

achieved through determination, dedication 

and hard work. Her career with Nedbank Group 

began when she was 19; her job was opening 

and attending to returned mail. But knowing 

she was destined for bigger things, she never 

stopped looking for opportunities to progress 

in the organisation. 

She gave up her lunch breaks to shadow 

her colleagues in the accounts department 

and, thanks to her thirst for learning and 

determination, began to move up the 

employment ladder. 

Now Valli is head of financial transaction 

processing and is using her vast knowledge of 

the group’s accounting systems to develop better 

ways of working. Her most recent project was 

her involvement in the compliancy of accepting 


electronically transmitted invoices from vendors 

and then training every finance department and 

willing vendor to use the new system. 

Even in this role of trainer Valli excelled, 

using her enthusiasm and positive attitude to 

overcome resistance to change and applying 

her vast knowledge and people skills to 

delivering fast and effective training. 

Despite her many achievements Valli is 

always looking for ways to improve herself and 

further her career, and this allows her to inject 

passion and energy into every project with 

which she is involved. 

The success she has achieved serves as an 

inspiration to her colleagues and associates, and 

her belief in the value and potential of others 

empowers them to strive to reach the same levels 

of personal and professional achievement.

nishani ford 

nedbank wealth. head: Learning & Development 

Nishani Ford is so passionate about helping other 

women to realise their full potential that she has 

made it an integral part of her career. As a member 

of the Nedbank Coaching workstream, she assists 

with the organisation’s training and development 

curriculum and also has a hands-on approach to 

guiding and mentoring young women entering 

the bank, to help them to achieve their career and 

personal development goals. 

An inspirational public speaker, coach and 

accomplished strategist, Ford is able to marry 

business objectives with personal development 

needs, which makes her a sought-after team 

member for many different projects. But 

although her planning and networking skills are 

an asset to the business, it’s her listening and 

mentoring skills, combined with her aboveaverage 

levels of empathy and understanding 

that make her such a valued colleague and 

friend to all around her. 

Her professional approach, combined with 

her sincere desire to make a difference, led to 

her involvement in the team that developed 

the Nedbank Property Finance Academy 

programme, which has been recognised by 

the CSIR as one of the best skills development 

programmes in South Africa. 

Ford has faced many personal challenges 

but instead of being a victim she draws on 

her experiences to offer others the advice, 

encouragement and help they need. Her 

determination to see women truly empowered 

in business leads her to work tirelessly to equip 

her female colleagues with the knowledge, skills 

and self-confidence required to lead the way in 

transforming the world of business. 


aRTS aND CuLTuRe 

Zama mkosi 

Ceo. national film and Video foundation 

Zama Mkosi has had a long and illustrious career 

in the media and entertainment industry. After 

graduating from the University of Natal with a 

BA LLB she had extensive training in intellectual 

property law at patent offices in Geneva, The 

Hague, Stockholm and Harare. 

As senior legal advisor to the media and 

motion picture business unit at the Industrial 

Development Corporation she closed deals on 

films such as Tsotsi and Hotel Rwanda. 

Mkosi has served on various media boards, 

among them the Film Resource Unit (an African 

film distribution organisation) and the National 

Film and Video Foundation Council, of which she 

was deputy chairperson. 

As executive producer for Heartlines, a 

television series that addressed social issues 

in South Africa, she created and led a media 


strategy for radio, television and print while also 

driving production. Hopeville, another television 

series for which she was executive producer, was 

nominated for an Emmy Award. 

In May 2012 Mkosi attended the Cannes 

International Film Festival where South Africa was 

represented by the largest number of films in its 

12 years of participation. South Africa signed a 

co-production treaty with Ireland, providing for 

a working relationship between the two countries. 

Mkosi, whose role entails spearheading the 

growth of the film industry and promoting it to 

the business sector, also gave a presentation at the 

Association of Film Commissioners International 

Locations Expo in Los Angeles, where the Brics 

(Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa) 

nations assembled to explore the importance of 

the fast-growing film and TV economy.

Reg No 2002/015527/06 

For 14 years the Eskom Development Foundation 

has been igniting the lives of millions in South 

Africa by doing more than just ensuring the lights 

stay on. 

The Foundation, a wholly owned subsidiary 

of Eskom Holdings, has actively powered growth 

and development initiatives in some of the most 

overlooked and remote parts of the country. 

Its core operations include rural development, 

education, infrastructure, skills and enterprise 

development and social development. 

Leading the pack is long-standing Eskom 

champion and chief executive of the Foundation, 

Haylene Liberty, who is dedicated to the economic 

and social development of South Africans. 

Liberty qualified with a BCom degree in 

marketing and completed several executive 

programmes as well as the Poverty and Business 

BuSINeSS 

haylene Liberty 

Ceo. eskom Development foundation nPC 

Leadership Programme of the University of 

Cambridge in the United Kingdom. 

She started her career at Eskom in 1995 as a 

graduate in training and did not become the 

leader of one of South Africa’s leading corporate 

social investment (CSI) organisations overnight. 

Her unrelenting commitment to ensuring the 

Eskom Development Foundation remains a key 

role player in CSI earned her the Eskom Manager’s 

Award in the sustainability category in 2006 for 

developing the company’s CSI strategy. 

With sound guidance and close attention 

to detail, Liberty continues to ensure the best 

possible implementation of CSI development 

projects. 

For more information visit eskom.co.za/csi. 

For enquiries email: csi@eskom.co.za or 

call +27 11 800 8111. 


national 

Development Agency 

the National Development Agency 

(NDA) is a government agency 

mandated to contribute towards 

the eradication of poverty and 

its causes through grant funding, 

capacity building, research and development. 

The agency was formed as a grant-making 

and policy development institution that 

supports non-governmental organisations, 

community-based organisations and faithbased 

organisations in their contribution to 

development, poverty alleviation and the 

advancement of democracy in South Africa. 

Its work is directed at poor communities 

living in identified poverty nodes and at 

community service organisations involved 

in developing anti-poverty strategies and 


programmes. 

Grant funding focuses on initiatives in the 

areas of early childhood development, food 

security, income generation programmes 

and projects and building the capacity of civil 

society to enable it to gain access to and use 

developmental resources that contribute to 

self-reliance. 

In line with its mandate to carry out 

projects and programmes aimed at meeting 

the development needs of poor communities 

the NDA has introduced a special unit to 

speed up poverty eradication efforts. The 

Programme Management Unit aims to provide 

project management services to all spheres 

of government, the private sector and other 

donor partners. It will also use funds from 

the public and private sectors and individual 

citizens who wish to contribute towards 

poverty eradication. 

The agency has a good track record of 

working with civil society and has established 

infrastructure in all nine provinces and good 

relationships at local, municipal and community 

level. Its systems and processes are suitable 

for working with rural and community 

enterprises.

Vuyelwa Nhlapo is passionate about community 

development, a passion ignited when she was 

growing up in Bizana in the Eastern Cape, where 

she was raised by her maternal grandparents 

in an extended family of three adults and 12 

other grandchildren while her parents worked in 

Johannesburg. 

Having “touched and felt poverty” and knowing 

how it affects women in particular, she resolved 

to become involved in uplifting communities and 

making a difference in people’s lives. 

At the age of 21 she was a teacher in Benoni 

and later became senior lecturer in public relations 

at Technikon SA. Her tenacity saw her rise through 

the ranks of the South African Management 

Development Institute to become director: 

planning and work organisation, before joining the 

GOVeRNMeNT 

Dr Vuyelwa nhlapo 

Chief executive officer 

Public Service Commission as the chief director 

responsible for the performance evaluation 

of directors general in the public service and 

monitoring the implementation of public policy. 

She also served for six years as deputy director 

general of the department of social development. 

Among her qualifications are a PhD in public 

affairs, an MA and a national diploma in human 

resources management. 

Nhlapo believes women are, by nature, 

compassionate and that compassion is a necessary 

quality and attribute when working with the 

poor and the vulnerable. In an organisation that 

has previously been led by men, she is grateful 

for the opportunity to bring a feminine touch of 

leadership to the job. 


Jessica fortuin 

western Cape Provincial manager 

A social worker by profession, Jessica Fortuin, who joined the NDA in 2003, 

has been active in social development and the not-for-profit sector for the 

past 34 years at both policy formulation and implementation levels. 

She was actively involved in the formation of reconstruction and 

development programme structures and was a founder member of 

the Provincial Development Council, a statutory body that facilitates 

social dialogue and development within the Western Cape, and former 

chairperson of the South African National NGO coalition, Western Cape. 

She has a BA in social work from the University of the Western Cape 

and a master’s in community development from Manchester University. 

She participated in the Council of International Programmes in Cleveland, 

in the United States, which is affiliated to the Cleveland State University, 

and served at executive level in the USAID Alumni Network. 

A gender and social development activist, she serves on the 

committees of a number of gender and development-based 

organisations. 


hajra mansour 

Chief Audit executive 

As chief audit executive Hajra Mansour’s portfolio includes providing 

assurance to the audit committee and the board and she is responsible 

for ensuring good corporate governance in all processes within the 

organisation. She believes that innovation lies in tapping into the skills 

and experience of a team and is also skilled at relating effectively with 

all members of the organisation, regardless of their position. 

Mansour believes that every individual is the sum total of his or her 

experience, background and environment and each is different. The 

building blocks of relationships, therefore, should be mutual respect, 

understanding and integrity. 

Mansour, who has a BCompt (Hons) degree from Unisa and served 

her accounting articles with KMMT Brey, a medium-sized accounting 

firm that subsequently merged with KPMG, was formerly acting chief 

internal auditor at South African Airways.

kwazi mazibuko 

gauteng Provincial manager 

While growing up in Nqutu in rural KwaZulu-Natal, Kwazi Mazibuko was 

deeply touched by the harsh realities of life in impoverished communities. 

That was when she promised herself that one day she would work in 

disadvantaged communities such as Nqutu as part of her contribution to 

the country’s efforts to roll back the frontiers of poverty and pave the way 

to sustainable economic growth. 

Mazibuko’s career spanned organisations such as the Valley Trust, the 

South African Local Government Association, the KwaZulu-Natal Midlands 

Partnership Programme, Oxfam (Great Britain) in KwaZulu-Natal and the 

department of land affairs before she joined the NDA. She has never 

looked back and continues to be a foot soldier for development issues. 

She holds a BA degree in psychology and sociology from the University 

of Durban-Westville and a BA (Hons) degree in policy and development 

studies from the University of Natal. 

nokulunga Skeyi 

eastern Cape Provincial manager 

Nokulunga Skeyi started her career at the Cala University Student Association 

(Calusa), an Eastern Cape-based NGO focusing on rural development. 

In 1997 she was appointed co-ordinator of Calusa’s Queenstown 

office. She joined the NDA as a project officer and worked her way up to 

provincial manager. 

She believes that the creation of effective partnerships between various 

institutions involved in community development and the communities 

themselves could make a great difference to the development of the 

Eastern Cape. 

Poverty in the province has two dimensions: income poverty, the 

lack of the income necessary to satisfy basic needs; and human poverty, 

which results in illiteracy, poor nutritional levels, poor access to safe 

drinking water and low perceptions of wellbeing. 

Skeyi believes in recharging once a month by connecting with 

like-minded women in order to broaden her horizons. She is currently 

studying for a BA (Hons) in development studies. 


Lunga mangcu 

executive Director. marketing & Communications 

Lunga Mangcu was exposed to the realities of poverty when she worked 

for World Vision International, the Human Resources Trust and in her role 

as a corporate social investment practitioner, managing a budget of up to 

R36-million. With such a strong background in community development it 

is little wonder that she felt at home when she joined the NDA in 2006. 

Mangcu, who has a bachelor’s degree in law, qualifications in communications, 

human resources and general management and a postgraduate 

management diploma from the International Maritime Transport Academy 

in the Netherlands, worked at the South African Ports Authority for 10 years, 

obtaining exposure to international trade. 

The Transnet group offered her an opportunity to run two human 

resources divisions within the group, PX and Housing. She has also served 

as a candidate attorney at a reputable law firm. She has been a senior 

manager and executive for about 15 years. 


thamo mzobe 

kwaZulu-natal Provincial manager 

Thamo Mzobe started her career as an educator, school principal 

and community activist. She represented civil society organisations 

as a provincial governing council member for an African Peer Review 

Mechanism programme and worked as a deputy director in the 

KZN legislature, responsible for co-ordinating secretariat services to 

portfolio committees and support for members of the legislature. 

The department of social development appointed her as head of 

ministry and later gave her the task of establishing a dedicated nonprofit 

organisation (NPO) directorate focusing on NPO development 

and capacity building. The directorate serves as a benchmark for other 

provinces. 

Mzobe believes that poverty in the province can be attributed to 

the prevalence of HIV/Aids and issues of social cohesion that have 

culminated in a high ratio of child-headed families and increased 

dependence on social grants. 

Her passion for community development led her to 

her current studies towards a master’s degree in 

community development.

millicent Sibeko 

human resources Director. SAS Institute South Africa 

Millicent Sibeko always wanted to be in a serving profession and to help 

others. Initially, she had intended to study psychology and public relations 

but the public relations classes she intended to register for were full and 

the alternative was human resources. And, says Sibeko, “it turns out, I love 

it”. Although it is a challenging career, she feels it is worth the battle “when 

you can see the value that you have delivered”. Experience has shown her 

that the best way to make an impact on the lives of others and to overcome 

challenges is to believe in who she is, “remaining solid and secure 

in what you know and what you are about — bringing the very best of 

who you are forward and keeping focused”. For this reason the project 

for which she has her greatest passion is mentorship, “to empower all our 

employees” to become “strong, capable, driven and experienced professionals 

in their respective fields”. Success for her is the fact that many of 

those she has mentored have been earmarked for leadership and growth 

opportunities. SAS Institute is also implementing a career framework to 

support talent management and more transparent career progression. 

It is a programme Sibeko believes “will make a difference at SAS and 

always bring about positive change in the people of our organisation”. 

SCIeNCe & TeCHNOLOGy 

mariette malan 

Legal manager. SAS Institute South Africa 

For the past 12 years Mariette Malan has lived and pursued her passions, 

including her love for commercial law. She gives credit for her success 

to “exceptionally strong mentors in the ICT industry, who have all had 

a hand in shaping me”. Malan’s work has exposed her to a variety of 

challenges, among them the multiplicity of African markets. Success 

in these markets, she says, has required her to be flexible, “not static or 

predictable”. The challenges of her job have also taught her to “create 

a work-life balance; to work to live and not vice versa”. The fact that 

she regards herself as a born optimist helps her to inject into her daily 

relationships a respect for human dignity. A battle with cancer — she 

is currently in remission — has, she says, “taught me to adapt to 

circumstances with amplified optimism and a positive attitude and to 

anchor my faith in God”. The positive encouragement, appreciation and 

recovery time provided by SAS Institute has also helped her enormously. 

Having won her battle, she looks to each day ”with greater optimism, 

vigour, joy and inspiration”, hoping that her story and her work will 

inspire other women to maximise their potential. 


Index 

asmal, Zahira (p.66) 

Entrepreneur 

Email: director@designingsouthafrica.com 

aziz, Liza (p.50) 

Filmmaker 

Email: lisa@fineline.co.za 

Benekane, evelyn (p.6) 

Community activist 

Email: bunita@courc.co.za 

Blecher, Sara (p.124) 

Filmmaker 

Email: sarab@iafrica.com 

Calata, Nomonde (p.128) 


Email: nomonde.calata@gmail.com 

Faith47 (p.106) 

Artist 

Email: info@faith47.com 

Flynn, Sheila (p.110) 


Contact details: 0723922630; 

sheilaflynn@ymail.com 

Gigi, Pumla (p.28) 

Daycare mother 

Email: pumlagigi@gmail.com 


Gogela, Thuli (p.96) 

Food blogger 

Email: thuli@mzansistylecuisine.co.za 

Goss, Kirsten (p.118) 

Jewellery designer 


kirsten@kirstengoss.com 

Holden, Isabella (p.76) 


Email: isabella@lifelinejhb.org.za 

Kotzé, Judith (p.42) 

Minister 


judith@iam.org.za 

Kruse, Sonja (p.48) 

Adventurer 

Email: ubuntuabundance@gmail.com 

Lebaka, Mitta (p.58) 

Social work manager 

Email: mittahlebaka@gmail.com 

Madiba, Zodwa (p.84) 


Email: zodwamadiba@gmail.com 

Magona, Sindiwe (p.52) 

Author 

Email: smagona@mweb.co.za 

Manganye, Marjorie (p.104) 

Elderly home founder 

Email: itlhokomeleng@telkomsa.net 

Maphanga, Regina (p.78) 

Researcher 

Email: maphangarr@yahoo.com 

Martin, Lorna (p.36) 

Forensic pathologist 

Email: Lornaj.Martin@uct.ac.za 

Mayat, Zuleika (p.98) 

Author 

Email: womensculturalgroup@gmail.com 

Mazebenza, Lillian (p.126) 

Social entrepreneur 

Email: nlrestio@telkomsa.net 

Mbuthumba, Nonhle (p.90) 


Email: nonhlem@vodamail.co.za 

McPherson, Jane (p.10) 

Agriculturalist 

Email: jane@grainsa.co.za 

Mdlalo, Thobeka (p.30) 

Entrepreneur 

Email: tapmanuel@yahoo.com 

Mdlalose, Bandile (p.18) 

Activist 

Email: bandy.mdlalose@gmail.com 

Mnguni, Thandi (p.40) 

Teacher 

Email: mngunite@yahoo.com 

Moeti, Koketso (p.112) 

Communications officer 

Email: kmoeti@gmail.com

Mosoetsa, Sarah (p.26) 

Sociologist 

Email: Sarah.mosoetsa@wits.ac.za 

Mthembu, Joyce (p.62) 

Grandmother 

Email: andilem@live.co.za 

Munyai, Sarah (p.100) 

Potter 

Email: admin@openafrica.org 

Naidoo, Shamitha (p.54) 

Volunteer 

Email: shamitha.naidoo@gmail.com 

Nkosi, Thelma (p.22) 

Community co-ordinator 

Email: thandekile2006@yahoo.com 

Pollard, Sharon (p.68) 

Researcher 

Email: sharon@award.org.za 

Pretorius, Catherine St Jude (p.12) 

Rapper 

Email: levi888111@yahoo.com 

Qalinge, Lulama (p.8) 

Professor 

Email: Qalinli@unisa.ac.za 

Rowles, Natalie (p.20) 

Housewife 

Email: awrowles@mweb.co.za a 

Sehlabane, Tebogo (p.56) 

Anti-corruption hero 

Email: freespirited04@gmail.com 

Shongwe, Zamo (p.114) 

Education co-ordinator 

Email: zamo@ikamvayouth.org 

Simpwalo, Sylvia (p.88) 

Clinic manager 

Email: clinicmanager@nazareth 

housejohannesburg.org 

Sitas, Rike (p.32) 

Urban researcher 

Email: rike@dala.org.za 

Socikwa, Kunji (p.74) 

Teacher 

Contact details: 0823147760 

Soldaat, Funeka (p.116) 

Gender activist 

Email: Freegender2008@gmail.com 

Steele, Theo (p.108) 

Union organiser 

Email: theo@cosatu.org.za 

Steenkamp, Luce (p.64) 

Office manager 

Email: bushmancouncil@khomanisan.com 

Tshaboeng, Josephine (p.80) 

Property developer 

Email: sandytshaboeng@yahoo.com 

Van Der Walt, Hanna (p.16) 

Cattle farmer 

Email: ccvdwalt@mweb.co.za 

Von Lyrik, eJ (p.4) 

Musician 

Email: vonlyrik@yahoo.com 

Witbooi, Davine (p.92) 

Agricultural activist 

Email: davinew@webmail.co.za 

Zantsi, Mbali Nxonxo (p.34) 

Boxing promoter 

Email: mbalimx@gmail.com 

Zita, Marhoyi (p.86) 

Traditionalist 

Contact details: 0782842983 

SPONSOReD 

PROFILeS 

armstrong, Tessa (p.140) 

Retail Branch Manager, Nedbank 


PalmspringsBM@Nedbank.co.za 

Brown, ayn (p.135) 

Human Resources Executive Organisational 

Development, Nedbank 


AynB@Nedbank.co.za 

Ford, Nishani (p.143) 

Head: Learning & Development, Nedbank 


NishaniFo@Nedbank.co.za 

Fortuin, Jessica (p.148) 

Provincial Manager: Western Cape, NDA 

Contact details: 021422-5175; 

Fortuinj@nda.org.za 


Gardner, esther (p.136) 

Group Risk Receptionist, Nedbank 


EstherG@Nedbank.co.za 

Govender, Vani (p.141) 

Retail Recoveries: Call Centre Agent, 

Nedbank 


VaniG@Nedbank.co.za 

Harduth, Zee (p.133) 

CA Training Programme: Training 

Manager, Nedbank 


ZeeH@Nedbank.co.za 

Hendricks, Jo-anne (p.138) 

Retail Manager, Nedbank 


Jo-AnneH@Nedbank.co.za 

Honey, Marinda (p.139) 

Corporate Regional Operations 

Manager, Nedbank 


MarindaH@Nedbank.co.za 

Liberty, Haylene (p.145) 

CEO, Eskom Development Foundation 


haylene.liberty@eskom.co.za 

Malan, Mariette (p.151) 

Legal manager, SAS 


marketing@zaf.sas.com 


Mangcu, Lunga (p.150) 

Executive Director: Marketing & 

Communications, NDA 

Contact details: 011 185500; 

LungaM@nda.org.za 

Mansour, Hajra (p.148) 

Chief Audit Executive, NDA 


HajraM@nda.org.za 

Mazibuko, Kwazi (p.149) 

Provincial Manager: Gauteng, NDA 


NokwaziM@nda.org.za 

Mkosi, Zama (p.144) 

CEO, National Film and Video Foundation 

Contact details: 0114830880; info@nfvf.co.za 

Mzobe, Thamo (p.150) 

Provincial Manager: KwaZulu Natal, NDA 

Contact details: 031 305-5542; 

ThamoM@nda.org.za 

Nhlapo, Vuyelwa (p.147) 

Chief Executive Officer, NDA 

Contact details: 011 018-5500; 

VuyelwaN@nda.org.za 

Reddy, Nirmala (p.137) 

Business Banking Senior Manager: 

Enterprise Development, Nedbank 


NirmalaR@Nedbank.co.za 

Saib, Rooksana (p.140) 

Retail Team Leader, Nedbank 


RooksanaS@Nedbank.co.za 

Sibeko, Millicent (p.151) 

Human Resources Director, SAS 


marketing@zaf.sas.com 

Sinclair, Kathleen (p.141) 

Retail Team Leader Client Service 

Flagship, Nedbank 


SandtonCityMCS@Nedbank.co.za 

Skeyi, Nokulunga (p.149) 

Provincial Manager: Eastern Cape, NDA 


NokulungaS@nda.org.za 

Smith, amanda (p.134) 

Wealth Team Manager, Nedbank 


AmandaSmith@boe.co.za 

Valli, Shafiequa’h (p.142) 

Head Financial Transaction Processing, 

Nedbank 


ShafiequahV@Nedbank.co.za 

Venkanna, Lillian (p.137) 

Retail Team Leader, Nedbank 


LillianV@Nedbank.co.za 

Vetter, Julie (p.136) 

Executive After-Sales Service for MFC, 

a division of Nedbank 


JVetter@mfc.co.za

Book of South African - Book of Women - Mail & Guardian

You also want an ePaper? Increase the reach of your titles

Delete template?

Save as template?