Interlude: Some Chapters from My Diary in Joburg – Umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu
There I was, on Bolton Road in Johannesburg, having a drink with a bare-knuckle fighter.
He had huge, muscular arms and that cheeky, chappy vibe, with his blonde afro hair adding to his charm. He was gearing up to compete across Africa, and I found it fascinating. I’d never met a bare knuckle fighter before. He reminded me of the guys I grew up with—kind of rough around the edges but actually super soft. His cultural references were pulled straight from the shows he’d seen, I’d constantly be like wow how do you know that?
For me, my knowledge has always come from the people I’ve met and the experiences I’ve had, almost like something out of Slumdog Millionaire. I’ve learned about different cultures through random encounters and whatever others have shown me along the way. I don’t watch much TV, so my understanding of the world feels more lived if that makes sense? Simon was casually switching between accents—one minute he was speaking like he was from East London, and the next, it was something else entirely. It was hilarious, especially knowing he’d picked it all up from watching Top Boy. It made me realise just how globalised our world has become. No matter where you are, people are sharing the same popular culture and absorbing bits of it in their own unique ways.
We had such a strange night. It must have been day two or three in South Africa, and while I was waiting for my friend to connect me with his people, I started making friends on my own—completely at random, as usual. After bouncing around Sandton and Rosebank, we ended up in this club in Maboneng. Some people were dancing with me, showing me new moves, and at one point, they asked, "Are you coloured?" I replied, "Yeah, I’m Asian." They looked at me, confused, and now I understand why.
At some point in the night, the bare-knuckle fighter Simon said, "My friend runs this strip club. Wanna check it out?" Naturally, I said yes. We jumped into the car and headed back towards Sandton—Joburg’s version of Mayfair, very affluent. Ten minutes later, we arrived at this strip club just outside Sandton. I stepped out of the car and looked up to see a grand fountain with Greek-like statues. Security at the door greeted us—“Good evening, ladies. Hello, Simon.” They shook hands like old friends.
Inside, the place was like an old-school theatre, but with neon lights, and the air smelled of oud and exotic rosewood. The vibe was unreal. There were so many different types of men, and the diversity of dancers was just crazy. It was like the UN had thrown an after-party, and all the nations were there. Some of the men seemed bored, casually having a drink, while others were wilding out, getting dances from the stunning women.
In one corner, there was an Arab man in a full robe, smoking shisha, surrounded by women from all backgrounds dancing on him. It felt like a scene straight out of a hip hop music video. At one point, he turned to me and said, "I’ll pay for you, do you want a dance?" And of course, I said yes—how could I pass up supporting local businesses you know?
I was like, "Yes, girl, get that cash! We need more cash!" Hyping up the dancers. Then Simon—the bare-knuckle fighter’s friend—showed up, and it felt like something straight out of a narco film. He was tall, covered in neck tattoos, and wore an oversized biker jacket. With this intense Latino vibe. You know Rio from Good Girls? That "Get in the car, Elizabeth" energy. That was exactly it!
He pulled up in a bright red truck, and honestly, he looked dangerous. I had just landed in South Africa, and the last thing I needed was to get mixed up with the wrong crowd.
As I was waiting for my car, the Rio lookalike pulled up and said, "Do you want me to give you a lift?" I politely declined, "No, I’m good, thank you."
Simon had grown up in Yeoville and was telling me about how much things had changed over the years. He was really intelligent and kind, which, to be honest, was the demeanour of most people I met in South Africa—kind. Everyone had this genuine warmth about them.
My first day in Sandton.
I wanted to go to the supermarket to grab some snacks and water, so I headed to Woolworths. I’ve been to Woolies before in Australia, and back in the day we had it in England too, but this was different. This Woolworths was bougie—way nicer than any other I’d seen, on par with Waitrose or M&S. I was especially obsessed with the snacks section; everything looked so fancy.
After I left Sandton Mall, I called an Uber. It was still my first day in South Africa, so I was pretty guarded since everyone had been telling me how dangerous it could be. But as I looked around Sandton, it was hard to imagine—everything seemed so affluent, like it was dripping with wealth.
While waiting for my Uber, the driver called and said he was by "the robot." I started scanning the area, thinking, Robot?I couldn’t see any robots, so I asked, "Where’s the robot?" He said, "In front of the Mercedes shop." Now I’m thinking it’s got to be some giant transformer-looking thing outside the Mercedes shop, right? He called again, "I’m by the robot!!" At this point, I’m wondering if I’m losing it because I still can’t find any robots. What is this dude talking about.
Finally, he said, "I’m right in front of you, white car." I jumped in and apologised, saying, "I’m so sorry, I couldn’t find the robot! It’s my first day in South Africa."
It wasn’t until day four that I finally learned that a "robot" is just what they call traffic lights here. I couldn’t stop laughing, realising I’d been frantically searching for a giant robot like I was in some sci-fi film. Guys, you need a handbook for the language you use.
South Africa, with all its layers, surprises, and contradictions, has shown me so much more than I could have ever anticipated. Each new encounter, whether in a spa in Pretoria or at a dinner in Yeoville, revealed the vibrancy of a place that defies the headlines. It’s a country where warmth meets intensity, where I found myself constantly adjusting, adapting, and, in the process, growing. Like, I went there six times. It was my base for travelling around the east. And while I may not always know exactly what I'm walking into, I've realised that some of the best stories are born from not knowing, and from stepping into the unknown with openness.
So before I dive into my next heartfelt piece, I just wanted to share a glimpse of these experiences.
A Zulu proverb that resonates deeply with my journey is "Umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu", which means, "A person is a person through other people." It emphasises that we grow, learn, and truly understand the world through our interactions with others.
This feels especially fitting for my time in South Africa. I didn’t rely on guidebooks or extensive research; instead, I leaned into the connections I made. My understanding of the place was shaped by the people I met, their stories, and the way they welcomed me into their world. When you travel, chat to some people? You might even end up at a bare knuckle fight like I did in some random part of Joburg.
The track I’ll leave you with today is Sondela by TRESOR.
Love,
Rez x