Mzoo Spot

So many horror stories have been told about Johannesburg. Before I came to work here, I was simply uninterested in what happened around this city. Everything just looked chaotic, and life seemed precarious.   My interface with the city was mainly through the Noord taxi rank – an epitome of chaos.   But what was strange was the order you will encounter just a few meters at the Park Station.   The station is itself iconic, because migrants from the Eastern Cape used it many years before us. For the last three years I have been based in Braamfontein, an area that has seen tremendous improvement in the last ten years. A friend who went to Wits University in the late 90s, told me of stories of crime and grime that were manifest in Braamfontein of his time. Things have changed for the better. I have since walked the streets of Hillbrow will little or no trepidation.   I have also comfortably visited Newtown with not much worries. Armed with this background, I was ...

As a groom I am at a disadvantage during lobola negotions - I am not allowed to be there. I then pin all my hopes to my delegation. The idea to send delegates to Soweto was long in planning, but things hit a snag when one of the chief negotiators took seriously ill earlier this year. A replacement was not easy to find, but eventually a family friend accepted our request.   The protocol is like this: I tell my mother that I intend to pay lobola and therefore suggest that she, on my behalf request this old man to be a chief negotiator.   Luckily upon hearing that I am planning to start lobola negotiations, my cousin, who lives in Midrand, readily availed himself to be part of the delegation. The delegation was effectively a duet of this old man ( a family friend) and my cousin. When you tell your parents about your intentions to start lobola negotions, you must have somehow introduced them to the future bride.   Luckily this happened during the wed...