Today I can honestly say that I am grateful to the powers that be that I am not a mathemitician, a statistics expert or even a politician.

Today I woke up a fanatical fan of this marvelous, superb, outstanding and inspiring country! As a self-proclaimed expert on the benefits of being a positive South African, I can honestly say that a mere 24 hours post the final 2010 World Cup whistle, I am already reaping the rewards.

Each lifetime is marked by something. I am lucky enough to be living in an era of hope, witnessing extraordinary miracles as they unfold.

During the world cup I watched as the world apologised for their non-belief in this can-do nation. When we said it will be ready, we meant it!

I watched as “the crime capital of the world” took  responsibility for keeping its space crime free and how this impacted on the whole country allowing us all, visitors and residents to feel safe and secure.

I watched as security guards walked off the stadiums exercising their constitutional right to strike, and watched as the once much loathed police force took up to the task of protecting us without missing a beat.

I watched as black fans drove to the “white” capital Pretoria to watch a game and white fans drive to the “black” capital Soweto to watch another.

As I watched mainstream pessimism and racism disappeared before my very eyes; blacks, whites, asian, indian and Europeans united in their love of the game.

I smiled when “white” fans supported Ghana and “black” fans supported the Netherlands.

I cried as I sang my national anthem, on the field and off the field.

I watched as rich and poor, the hopeful and the despondent all came together to proudly play hosts to over one million visitors!

I watched as South Africans kept filling the stadiums long after Bafana Bafana were out of the game, showing support all the way!

I watched as two never-crowned-before nations met for the final round and Spain be crowned the new world champions.

But most of all, I am watching as the magic keeps unfolding. Which other country can boast a 20 year history as rich as ours?

From the moment Mr Mandela was released from prison, this country stood united in its belief that tommorow will be better than today. We repeated that belief in 1994 when we stood united in our first democratic elections, and again in 1995 when we won the Rugby World Cup, a story which inspired the movie Invictus. In 2002 our disbelief was palpable when Germany won the 2006 Fifa World Cup bid. Four years later we won the bid and another four years on, we proved to the world that we are a nation of our word, a can-do nation.

So while the debate and speculation continues around the R40 billion spend on infrastructure, job creation, tourism investment and social cohesion continues, I am going to turn a deaf ear.

I am going to hold on tight to the jubilant feeling in my heart, because I know that as South Africans we do not need a football game or a trophy to show the world that we are top-class.

We have done it before and will do it again!

Whether you love to hate the vuvuzela or (like me) hate the fact that you love the vuvuzela. One thing is for sure the vuvuzela is as unique to South Africa as South Africans eating ice cream in zero degree tempratures.

Never before, it seems to me,  has such an undemanding instrument so united a nation!

I am talking about the much loved and even more despised blowing of the vuvuzela pre-, during and post games. Everyone, everywhere, from my neighbours next door, or across the street, to fans in the fan parks, to the fans in the stadiums, are raucous in their determined blowing of the vuvuzela.

The vuvuzela is simple and uncomplicated. Not very musical in design but extremely powerful in application. It transcends all barriers, cultural, religious, gender, economic, linguistic.

When we blow the vuvuzela, we all speak the same language. A language which starts in the heart and transcends through the soul to be freely expressed via the lungs. Noisy to some, music to others.

Now in order to truly appreciate the wonder of the vuvuzela, one needs to understand the language in which it speaks.

A short beep, beep, baaarp is a motivational war cry, the blower firmly believing that the harder and faster he blows, the better his team will perform on the field.

Baaarp, baaarp, baaarp clearly indicates that the referee is deaf, dumb, blind or all three.

A protracted  baaa-aaarp to expresses disappointment or heart-rending defeat.

So the next time you hear the vuvuzela, why not listen to the message, it sends?

And who can resist being drawn into the vuvu-dance? Once the crowd starts going. In an adaptation of the traditional Shosholoza gum-boot dance, which sees vuvuzela’s swinging from side to side in a rhytmic motion as the crowd belts out “shosholoza”. A breathtaking spectacle..

So, Mr Paton. If you were here today to witness this,  I hope you might be inspired to say: let us love the earth too deeply, let us laugh too gladly and let usgive too much of our heart to a mountain or a valley, because today our nation stands united.

Viva the v-u-v-u-z-e-l-a!

Nkosi sikkelel’ iAfrika. God bless Africa. And last night he blessed me too. Whether it was fate,or good fortune, I will never know.

I found myself at the Loftus Versfeld stadium, in Tshwane last night watching Bafana Bafana not quite take on Uruguay.

The atmosphere was electric, the tempratures zero, and the spirit of the supporters unquenchable!

By far the best 90 mins of my life!

And as always the South African nation rose to the occasion!

Receiving the call from the lottery of life informing me that I had just been granted two tickets to the game, we jumped in the car for the 120km return drive to Tshwane.

The highway was smooth and the traffic flowed with ease. For once I actually thanked the heavens above for the inconvenient and sometimes troublesome roadworks, because when I needed it the most, the highway turned into a super-highway.

Parking was a breeze with more policemen and security than I would care to count.

When we passed the first security point the friendly and dapper policeman in his utilitarian uniform informed us that we had a 20 minute walk ahead of us until we could take our seats at the stadium.

We secured our backpacks and readied ourselves for the journey ahead. The walk quickly turned into a parade. Within minutes we were surrounded by fans and supporters of every team, and from all corners of the globe. Never before have I received so many ola’s, bonjour’s, noite boa’s and halloo’s from complete, yet familiar strangers.

The streets had a carnival feeling to it. Everywhere you looked flags were waving, people were having their faces painted, or their hairsprayed in different colours, or gumboot dancing to the tune of Shosholosa and of course blowing their vuvuzela’s.

Fan apparel aplenty was on sale on every square inch of public space and in typical South African fashion even the entrepreneurs had a game plan. During our walk we could buy kuduzela’s on the street, then vuvuzela’s, then a noisy whistle called a babyzela and finally at the gate – earplugs!

Bafana-Bafana shirts, jackets, scarves, super-sized sunglasses, South African flag shirts and flag mini skirts, and flag handbags, all were on sale.

For the hungry and the not so hungry the coffee shops, eateries and restaurants opened their doors and spilled onto the pavements. We could buy hot chocolate, coffee and ice cream all from the same vendors.

And flavours a plenty too. The aroma of basting chicken, mingled with the smell of freshly grilled prawns and the sizzzle of steak being fried reached the nostrils from miles away.

At the stadium gates the crowds were having a good time. Cheers to the likes of P-P-Pain for S-S-Spain and Tjaila-time, Tjaila time for Urugugay, could be heard from far and wide.

Getting through the gates was a pleasant and convenient experience with plenty of helpful volunteers directing us to our seats.

And then it was time for the game!

When Bafana Bafana made their way on to the field, the sound of the blowing trumpets were deafening. A heroes welcome for our boys indeed.

Thousands of people rose to sing our national anthem. My heart stopped and my chest swelled with pride.

When I sung the chorus to “…sounds the call to come together and united we shall stand…. Let us live and strive for freedom, in South Africa our land.”, the tears were streaming down my cheeks, as I realised I could say………..

“I was there.”

But today a simple act of kindness reiterated my love for this country and its people.

I arrived to a vey posh business centre, dressed to the nines, suit, strappy heels and coiffed hair, formal and professional as the occasion demanded.

I quickly check my reflection in the mirror to ensure that there is no lipstick on my teeth and that not a single hair is out of place.

I smile and taking a deep breath as I open the door to the conference room. My heart stopped.

I am greeted by a sea of yellow shirts. All of the 26 Board members in attendance were sporting an official Bafana Bafana shirt and proudly displaying their pride and patriotism and their support for Football Fridays.

That is everyone but me!

I smiled a half-hearted smile and cast my eyes down low, silently berating myself. I have been wearing my football shirt  on Friday’s since I don’t know when and and today of all days, I am not.

I slowly make my way across the room and pour a huge cup of dark coffee. Dark and black, just like my soul I thought.

Our resident photographer and IT guy try to crack a joke, but I only frown at them. My heart sinks to my toes. I look around for a corner to hide. The guys noticing my frown and distress pull me to one side.

Mortified I tell them my tale of woe. They listen and when and where needed throw in the neccessary “ag shame” and don’t worry, everything is going to be fine.” I sigh.

Suddenly the IT guy smiles and winks at me “I have a plan he says” and takes off his jacket.

I notice that even he is sporting a Bafana Bafana shirt. I sigh loudly. My humiliation is now tangible.

Then he pulls his shirt over his head and hands it to me. He quickly pulls his jacket on again and smiles.

Dumbstruck I stare at him. Slowly it dawns on me. He has just handed me his shirt. He tells me to hurry up and change otherwise I will be late for the meeting.

I hurriedly make my way to the ladies and remove the suffocating jacket and starched shirt and as I pull the Bafana Bafana shirt over my head, I am overcome by emotion.

An ordinary South African has just done the extraordinary for me. He has shown me an act of kindness, sharing the spirit of ubuntu with me.

I smile and make my way back to the conference room. From the corner of my eye I can see my IT guy, he smiles and silently winks at me. I smile back.

In that moment I realise that the South African heroes are the ordinary people doing the extraordinary, because it is just the way we do things.

Ubuntu – it is in our blood!

Rounding the bend on Jan Smuts Avenue in Parktown I belt out the refrain from the well known mid 18th century nursery rhyme “Polly put the kettle on, polly put the kettle on, we’ll all have tea.”

You see a fabulous new friend has invited me to spend Saturday afternoon enjoying high tea at the Westcliff Hotel in the northern suburbs of Johannesburg.

As I make my way through the heavily ornate cast iron gates a suave bellhop directs me to the parking bays from where I am escorted to an awaiting shuttle and whisked off up the hill. The serenity of the apricot coloured units, rose bushes and the countryside-feel of this very exclusive hotel soon have me captivated, stilling all the silly refrains in my head.

At the top of the hill the shuttle comes to a stop. Our driver jovially announces that today is a good day, as this afternoon he joins his friends at Soccer City for the historic rugby match between the Blue Bulls and Crusaders. He laughs and winks as he says, “Today my blood is blue.” I laugh and wish him a fantastic game.

I am then led into the Polo Lounge past  many more fragrant rose bushes. The atmosphere is serene and calming.

My friend has already arrived and welcomes me with open arms and a hug. Patrick, who will be looking after us, seats us at a window.

The 180 degree view of Johannesburg is stunning.  Autumn is in full swing, the world’s largest urban forest a riot of orange, red and lime green. It feels as  if the sun is out just for me this brisk afternoon.

Patrick brings the menu and shows us the buffet table. I silently wonder if the Monarch herself will be joining us. Everything from the silver milk jug to the crustless cucumber sandwiches to the salmon and cream cheese mini wraps look like they are eagerly anticipating her arrival.

I get lost in the tea menu. So many fragrant and delicious blends. Rose and hibiscus. Moroccan spice. Lavender. I finally settle for a cup of oolong from China.

The teapot arrives and with it a whole new way of drinking tea.

The pot is of fine clear glass, with a cylinder in the centre. The cylinder houses the leaves, long, fragrant and curly. Patrick pours boiling water over the mixture and sets it on a glass burner. He advises me to let the tea develop.

I watch as the water slowly mingles with the leaves. It turns a bright lemon yellow, then amber and finally black. I am mesmerised. Suddenly life has taken on new meaning, hours have stilled to minutes and even seconds matter now. I take a deep breathe and feel my lungs inhale the fragrant tea. With a huge sigh, I sit back and relax.

Four cups of tea, one more fragrant than the other, an assortment of savouries and the best death-by-chocolate gateaux, next a slice of ganache cake, then more than one decadently decorated marzipan petit-four, and I finally put my fork down.

By now my new friend and I have become old friends. Lapped in luxury, we have bared our souls, shared our dreams, and buried our regrets.

As I wipe my mouth with the linen napkin  lying across my lap, the sun is setting. The sky is streaked with orange, red and purple. Birds chirp in the distance, and for the first time I notice that the room is filled with other people. South Africans of every hue and background are enjoying the age old European tradition of high tea on a late Saturday afternoon.

A slow knowing smile spreads across my face… South Africa is truly Alive with Possibility!

My Jozi. My Egoli. My Kazi. My place. My space…

As the words roll over my painted lips my heart swells with pride. This is my Jozi, my home, my palace, my place. It is the place that brings my feet to an abrupt halt, shifts my perceptions, opens my eyes and eagerly invites my soul to participate in all that is vibrant, eclectic and energising. A social cosmopolitan metropolis of note.

If you are lucky enough to spend time in this great country, I urge you to make your way to Johannesburg and experience the vibrancy and pulse beat of our rainbow nation by checking out the following sights:

A Highveld Sunrise

There is nothing quite as spectacular as dawn on the highveld. From my favourite lookout point on Monroe Drive which gives you a birdseye view of the city, you can sit quietly and watch as darkness fades to dawn. The early morning light streaked in hues of light blue and orange, which gives way to the golden rays of sunlight as it creeps through the horizon, ready to warm the hills and concrete buildings. In summer a deligthful breeze blows,  in winter the air is crisp and fresh and lays down a thin layer of frost which melts with the first rays of morning. A perfect time to enjoy a hearty breakfast!

Gleneagles Road, Greenside

Make your way down to the leavy green suburb of Greenside. With its lush oak trees and green sidewalks and rose gardens, it is the perfect spot to find hot pastries, fresh bread and the aroma of imported coffee wafting from the myriad of delicatessens and coffee shops and Parisian style-street cafe’s, where you will be affectionately greeted by a lively waiter as he hands you your morning paper. Soon your plate will be filled with hot bacon, fried eggs and toast and coffee just the way you like it, or perhaps you prefer a bagel and cream cheese with smoked salmon, the choice is yours.

Emmerentia Dam

Enjoy a leisurely stroll at nearby Emmerentia dam where there is plenty do, such as watching the joggers, the cyclists, the dog walkers, and the canoeists as they take to the water, or feeding your leftover breakfast roll to the wild ducks who roam the embankment. Whatever the activity you are sure to strike up a conversation with the friendly locals.

Cultural Shopping

If browsing and experiencing culture is top of your mind, I suggest a shopping experience like no other. The Oriental Plaza in Fordsburg. A vibrant and deligthful bazaar with countless little shops and stalls selling anything from exotic spices for breyani; fragrant saffron to coconut milk and roti rolls, to Superga tekkies and Levi jeans. The Oriental Plaza is famous for its bargaining and trading, everything you could ever want at the price that you are willing to pay. An experience which refreshes the soul and the senses as customers are encouraged to touch, to taste and to experience the rich Indian culture and hospitality. Try a fragrant hot spiced chai tea with a side order of chili bites and samoosas, to put a fire in your belly come tea time.

Or perhaps you are desperate to buy trinkets for the folks back home. I suggest you make your way to the Rosebank African Craft Market, where you will be able to indulge your wild and curious side. Experience the continent of Africa under one roof. Explore traditional clothing and jewellery, ceramics, hand made paper, wooden and stone carvings, wood furniture and masks, to beaded dolls and wire art. Journey from the Ivory Coast to the Democratic Republic of Congo and from the Kalahari to Cameroon at the many stalls. The African Craft Market is a delight for all to see and hear. Indulge in the many different languages and accents being spoken and set your imagination free, to consider a grass mat or a cow hide carpet or a Springbok leather purse.

Historical Culture Experience

No trip to Jozi will be complete without a historical visit. It is only in looking back at the atrocities committed by the apartheid government that you can truly understand the lesson in forgiveness that gave birth to the rainbow nation you see here today.

Visit the old fort at Constitution Hill and walk in the place where Gandhi and Madiba were incarcerated, or go next door to experience the hollowness and sadness of the primitive and deplorable female prison where prisoners like the famous poisoner Daisy de Melker were held.

From there I urge you to continue south and make your way to the historical Soweto. Visit the Hector Pieterson museum, pass the home of Archbishop Desmond Tutu and take a tour of Nelson Mandela’ home. Walk the famous Vilikazi street which is home to the two Nobel peace prize winners. En route,  stop at one of the shebeens (a local pub or bar) and have something to drink. The people and atmosphere will be alive and welcoming, and you are sure to catch up on the football scores and the local gossip.

From there, make your way to Nambitha’s a traditional restaurant famous for it’s flavourful home cooked meals and generous portions. Here you will find old favorites like spinach and morogo, pap and vleis, mogodo (sheeps tripe) and dumplings (a home made bread) served with chips, rice, samp and South Africa’s top wines, imported beers and numerous well known spirits.

Soweto is a cultural hotpot of people and experiences and gives new meaning to the expression “local is lekker”. Here you will hear and appreciate stories from far and wide as the people are genuinely caring and express themselves in great spirit.

Bars

By dusk time it is time to hit the party scene and where better than to make your way back to the ubercool Circle bar, situated in the Rosebank Hotel. A great place for after dinner drinks which sizzles with afrofusion and funk. Enjoy a drink while seated on a perspex bar stool or sink into a leather wingback chair or order an ice bucket and enjoy it in one of the intimate booths with cascading glass bead curtains and colourful lights. The perfect place to see and be seen.

Restaurants

Next up is the dinner scene. Here we do not ask how you would like your meat done, but if you would like meat at all? Variety and choice are at your fingertips.

Fancy something European and then make your way to Melrose Arch. The city within the city, where you can experience New York style burgers, steak and meat grilled to perfection; prawns, calamari and fish like you caught it yourself; or pasta cooked to suit your particular dente. And if you crave a taste of Africa,  why not make your way over to Moyo’s and taste African tradition at its best.

Perhaps you prefer something a little more exotic and spicy. Then experience the magic of Thai food at Wanghtai Restaurant in Sandton Square where the many flavours and fragrances are sure to seduce your palette.

And when the last drop of wine has been drunk and the last morsel of food has been wiped from your plate it is time to get your dancing shoes on.

Dancing and Culture

Feeling sentimental. Make your way to Katzy’s in Rosebank and enjoy an evening of fine spirits, cigars and top notch jazz. Feel the buzz, man!

Or take in a show, something “local and lekker”. Sit back, relax and enjoy exploring our unique culture at the Alexander theatre in Braamfontein, or the Market Theatre in Newtown, as you are captivated by the enchantment of a live performance.

Or perhaps it is time you kick off your shoes and line up the shooter glasses as you make your way to upmarket, trendy nightclub Taboo in Sandton. And if you are a trendspotter or a die hard fashionista then the fashiontv-I-see-it-first-on-tv venue in Fourways is the place to be, dahling.

But the best moment has to be when in the wee hours of the morning you finally make it back home, kick off your shoes and crawl into bed. And just before you close your eyes, you realise that this is the best place on earth to be. That you are truly blessed, because tomorow you get to spend another day in the City of Gold!

Not football fever as you might imagine, but flag-feva.

It seems that South Africans from Sandton to Standerton; and Soweto to Sandringham is gripped by a patriotic desire to wave or wear or carry their flag wherever they go, doing whatever it is they are doing.

Far and wide the unique South African flag is being displayed with tremendous pride. People everywhere are pimping their rides with car flags waving from windows, bandanas hanging from rear-view mirrors, or the innovative mini-cooper mirror socks covering the side-mirrors of all makes of cars, new and not-so new, bakkies’ two-seater sports models; 4 x 4’s and even heavy duty trucks. Not to mention the latest mediapower initiative which sees flags displayed on car bonnets and rooftops.

Even our national mascot Zakumi is gaining in popular culture, being given a prime seat on top of the dashboard or being dragged around in baby-prams donned with cute little babies in their designer outfits.

And of course fashionista’s everywhere are owning the fan-gear.

Young and old are inspired to wear the flag in which ever way they can from beanies and scarves donned in the flag colours, to t-shirts and polo necks proudly displaying the flag, to Bafana-Bafana shirts and jackets, flag inspired bracelets and not to mention the super cool Superga tekkies – which offers a variety of flags at your feet.

The much loved vuvuzela has also become a novelty item, proudly displayed at shop fronts and reception area’s. Even my favourite Indian eatery is donned with flags from Uruguay to Paraguay, creating a festive and vibrant atmosphere.

To our foreign nationals of England; Germany; Italy and Portugal seeing you display your own national flag next to mine whether as a car flag, a bumper sticker, or a mirror sock – I thank you and I salute you!

Not since the Madiba-magic phenomenon have I seen such a surge in patriotism and optimism. I have yet to meet someone who does no smile or grin when confronted with the South African flag, wheteher in traffic or on the street corner, or a vibrant shopping mall.

Could it be that the South African flag has become the proverbial peace-pipe that the nation has been hoping for?

This time our proud nation will attempt to enter the record books for “the longest parade of privately owned vehicles displaying the national flag” on 27 April 2010 in Cape Town, Johannesburg and Durban.

We hop onto our courtesy bus and zig zag through the northern suburbs of Jozi as VIP guests of Mediapower as we make our way to the Wits University Campus amphitheatre for the official launch of the campaign.

On the grounds we are met with a host of excited and energized students, sponsors and football crazy fans. It is clear to all that South Africans are ready for the challenge.

The moment of pride arrives.

Amongst the vociferous blowing of vuvuzela’s and the ocean of yellow Bafana Bafana shirts attempting the diski dance, and playing a game of football we are met by five courageous, high-spirited, record-shattering and record making South Africans.

Robert Coutts the distributor of the 46664 bangle’s message is clear as he pledges the support of 46664 bangle; Media power; The Star and The Wits Student Representative Council to make the world record attempt a successful initiative.

Robert’s call to action is clear. All South Africans are to rise to the occassion, and on Freedom Day get into their cars and display the South African flag on the rooftop; windows and windshields.

Next up is the gregarious and energetic Riaan Manser a South African solo adventurer who has cycled around Africa on his bicycle, alone and unassisted over 83 000 kms in 2 years and two months, before cycling 5000 kms around Madagascar. Riaan blows triumphantly on his vuvuzela as he pledges his personal support for the world record attempt and says that he has an unwavering belief that South Africa is destined for the record books.

Hein Wagner the first blind person to break a land speed record for travelling 306 km/h is adamant that a dissablitity or an impoverished background should not dampen ones patriotic spirit as he pledges his support.

Sibusiso Vilane the first black person to summit Mount Everest not once but twice is clear in his call to action, saying that if he could take the South African flag with him all that way twice, we as South Africans can rise to the challenge too.

Ricky Agrela the man who flew around the world in a micro light says that the need for human beings to help each other in times of need is a unversal language and he appealled to all South Africans to welcome international football fans with open arms and warm cheers and to showcase our beautiful country for all to see.

These courageous South Africans are appealing to ordinary South Africans to do the extraordinary. To show the world our pride and patriotism and to fly our flag with pride as we attempt to set a world record for “the longest parade of privately owned vehicles displaying the national flag.”

Could you do it?

What happens when you take a gourmet pizza, add a little cheese, the warmth of a great Italian family and the jolliness of a great South African legend?

The best lunch ever, I realise as I take another bite of my delicious tasty Mimmo’s Rude Awakening Moroccan pizza. The flavour burst is unreal as each one of my taste buds are overwhelmed and willingly surrenders to the remarkable flavour sensation.

Who knew that a little pizza dough; a spoonful of Neapolitan sauce; Moroccan spiced chicken; chickpeas marinated in lemon preserve; marinated brinjals; yellow and red bell peppers; 8 halved bella rosa tomatoes and mozzarella cheese topped with fresh mint, could be such seduction.

And so good for the soul too. Mimmo’s the Italian family restaurant has once again teamed up with the Rude Awakening team from 94.7 Highveld Stereo to bring you the Mimmo’s Moroccan pizza – the pizza in aid of charity.

For every pizza bought, during the next four weeks, a percentage of the sale of the pizza goes to the Food4Africa initiative, who provide balanced meals to hungry children across Africa. This year the team, with the help of ordinary South Africans aim to feed 3 000 hungry children for a year.

I finish the last bite and reach for the napkin to wipe the sauce from my chin. In the background I can hear the heartfelt laughter of the boisterous Jeremy reverberate through the restaurant, people are drawn in by him.

Mimmo Cioffi, Mr Mimmo’s himself, pulls up a chair and takes a seat. He wants to know if I enjoyed my lunch. I smile. He smiles too, and in that moment I experience the true Italian warmth and sincerity which makes Mimmo’s such a great family restaurant.

(And have I mentioned the Pizza?)

The restaurant is filling up and I know that my seat is needed so reluctantly I get up and head for the door. I wave to Jeremy and Mimmo and smile.

The Mimmo’s Moroccan pizza was a good meal, great flavour and at only R65.00 is the best value for money.

And tonight, I go to bed, knowing that today, during my lunch hour, I helped to feed a hungry child in Africa.

First up was a regular “crew” who occupies a spot on the busy intersection of Bolton and Jan Smuts Roads in Rosebank. Here they carve out a living using some wire, beads and some of the most creative talent I have ever seen.

I take a seat on a empty paint drum; hand over a sandwhich and introduce myself and so starts a wonderful conversation with a Zimbabwean named Boas Manzvenga. Boas is the brains behind the operation, together he, Eddie, Telmore and Elias own and operate a rather successful wire art business.

Boas was once a successful supervisor in a chemical company in Zimbabwe but the recession and political instability forced his company to close and left him without income. After several months of fruitless job-hunting, he made his way South.

That was five years ago. Today Boas says that he loves South Africa. Here the economy is good. When times are good he can make enough money as his own boss to pay his rent, cellphone and he even bought a car and when times are not so good he finds seasonal employment as a supervisor.

After lunch Boas sits back and picks up his wire art creation once again; he is beading the intricate body detail of a giraffe. He talks at a moderate pace; looks me in the eye; cracks a joke and every now and then lovingly strokes the body of his creation. I am transfixed by the speed at which this intricate animal is being shaped.

Asked where his passion for wire art comes from he smiles and says it started with “streetcars” — small wire cars he and his friends used to make as children.   Later,  he attended a technical training college in Zimbabwe where he learnt the sculpture of anatomy and beading.

The others join in the conversation.  Their stories are similar.

The Goodman Gallery across the street has given them a space where they can display and sell their art to customers ranging from serious art collectors to visiting tourists. “South Africans are good people” he says, “they do not bother us and like our art.”

When I ask if there is anything else they can make besides African animals,  they grin. Eddie points to a giant beaded afro comb, a sewing machine and even a satellite dish.

I get up to leave and they all jump up, thank me warmly for taking time to talk to them and hand over their business cards. I take them with a smile.

It seems when it comes to creativity all you need is your imagination, wire and beads, and a busy intersection in South Africa.