Moerieda "Die Wit Vrou" CaROLUS

When clients want to leave a review, they would ask Moerieda Carolus (nee Cariem) her name. She knew the spelling would be off. So, she started calling herself “Mo”. The eldest of five children, Mo grew up and still resides in Jakaranda Street in Cloetesville. She now shares her ouer-huis with “the girls”, her two daughters.  Moerieda grew up in a staunch Muslim household. Her dad was Muslim, and her mum reverted to Islam upon marriage. However, Mo has embraced and follows the Christian faith. She was given the name Cecilia at baptism, which means “the patron saint of music and musicians” (Discover Music, 2024). She describes herself as “a single divorced mother trying to make it”. Mo is awfully passionate about her job as a tasting room manager at an esteemed wine farm outside of Stellenbosch, where she started working at the age of twenty-nine and has amassed almost twenty-two years of service as of 2025.

Furthermore, Mo knew from a young age that she did not want to be a Muslim woman for the rest of her life. At nineteen, Mo confided in her mum about possibly parting ways with Islam. Although her mum supported her decision, she prefaced it with: “I don't mind if you convert, but as long as your father is alive, it's gonna be a problem”. Mo admits, “Yeah. But, I mean, I converted while he was still alive; he always knew where he stood with me.”

I enquire:

Me: “If he were still alive, obviously the entire family, especially on your dad’s side, also got whiff of this? I mean, people talk, and news spreads fast in our communities.” 

Mo chuckles: “Yes, but you know what? I was never close with his whole side of the family, and uhm, since I’ve never been close to them. I just decided that these people are just not gonna bother me, you know?”

She fondly remembers falling in love with the “Coloured and Muslim version of Jeff Goldblum” when she was sixteen. He, too, came from a staunch Muslim background. And since dating without being chaperoned was not permitted within Islam, he asked for her hand in marriage. Mo proclaims that under sharīʿah law that this was the norm, and it was legal. Her father had agreed to the marriage, and her mum said “Not te donner”. Looking back, she is utterly grateful for her mother’s reaction. Although Mo officially converted to Christianity in 2005 at the age of 31. Long before then, Mo was given signs and had experiences that distanced her from Islam; there were regimes within Islam that she was not in accordance with. 

Me: “There is a well-known stereotype or public discourse that Islam is oppressive, especially towards women – how do you respond to that?”

“I do think so, yes”, she replies. 

Although I personally would not frame Islam as oppressive. Mo’s stances towards Islam come from her own experiences growing up as a Muslim woman and what she personally experienced and lived through. Rebellion and stepping away from things you do not find fulfilling is also a form of feminist practice. It would be ignorant of me to ignore that her religious politics ultimately shaped her resistance, liberation, and how she wants to experience her personal freedom. Mo expands on this and discloses that she had young married “female Muslim friends” who were deeply unhappy; unhappy about attire, unhappy about polygamy, strict rules that had no alleviation, and they were not allowed to work. There was “a lack of self” that she witnessed in the women around her, and she found that Christianity would give her the chance to explore the depths of herself that she did not think she would have discovered as a Muslim woman.

Me: “You said that you have never encountered a happy Muslim woman, or rather a content Muslim woman. Was that something that also transpired in your household? Like this staunch…you know what I mean? I am struggling to find the words, but you know where I am going with this?” I laugh.

Mo chuckles and replies: “I do, and no. Look, my father came from a very staunch and strict background, my mom converted, and we as children were raised Muslim. Obviously, because of the Christian influence from my mom’s side, I think my dad became a bit more relaxed in that sense. Uhm, we were obviously not allowed to consume alcohol, relaxed but still uphold Islam.”

Mo makes it known that she did not part ways with Islam because she wanted to be rebellious. She did want to experiment, but not in a way that could hinder her character. She craved new experiences and sheds light on this period of her life, she reveals, “I love creating my own rules. I had a good husband, he really loved to cook for us; it was never just a woman’s job. It was a partnership; women are often treated like a commodity, with no sense of self. I have seen it first hand in the hood and in Islam, those women were just never happy, and that was not my ideal”. Mo emphasises that the permittance of polygamy was a real issue for her at the time, and says, “Personally, I like the idea that marriage is between two people. Not a third or fourth wife thing. I like that marriage is a two-person experience; marriage is devotion and sacred. That is what also attracted me to Christianity. I think for me, I just never wanted to be a water slams”. The way that I understand water slams or slamse, they do not religiously follow the deen, they often partake in things that are considered haram under Islam (consume alcohol or non-halal products, gamble, etc), yet they still identify as Muslim.

However, she often had to live by rules she didn’t choose. At a very young age, Mo was tasked with raising her siblings after the death of her mother and the “emotional absence” of her father, shortly followed by his death. Mo says, “Often navigating the hood means to grow up before your time” Mo is getting emotional and takes a moment to gather herself and continues by saying, “I was the eldest. I had to cope; my siblings had to cope.  We do not have therapy in the hood, we often do not believe in it, but the support we had from my mum’s side of the family was indescribable”. As soon as her siblings reached high school, Mo had moved in with her life partner and now ex-husband, and they resided in Idas Valley. Her dad remarried and moved to Cape Town, and was no longer financially contributing to the full extent. Mo recalls, “Ek moes vrydae vir Nunu en Tassie kry in die dorp, there was like no food in the house”. Nunu and Tassie are Mo’s two younger sisters. Mo was tasked with contributing to both homes at the time, and financially, she couldn’t keep up, so she eventually moved back home. Although this period of her life was challenging, there were moments when she enjoyed her motherly instincts being amplified, and she often felt like it gave her “purpose”. It was also a way of keeping herself accountable; there would be an even bigger possibility that she could further scar and contribute to their trauma since life in the ghetto is “hard”, “unforgiving”, and “filled with temptations”. In 2015, Mo was propelled back to an era in her life she had long forgotten, being the primary caregiver of her family. In 2015, after an unpleasant divorce, Mo became a single mother again.

I pose the question: “Did you ever think you would be a single mum?”

Mo: “Oh gosh, no. It was never something I anticipated, but now I know what ninety percent of the women in my community go through. It is really hard. These are trying times. You have to be strong-willed and have a strong spirit to survive.”

Mo and her then-husband were separated for two years before finalising their divorce eleven years ago. Mo had refused to pay for the divorce proceedings as it was “his decision to leave.” he had expressed that he needed a break from his responsibilities, and Mo replied, “There is no break from marriage or fatherhood; if you leave, you cannot come back.” The day he left was the day right after her fortieth birthday. 

Me: “I understand that you are a single mum in the sense that it is just you and the girls, and the parent you live with contributes the most and not just in the financial sense, but that too. Does he lend you any financial help, I know that he gives something to the girls every month in their bank accounts, but does he contribute to their everyday needs, like groceries, transport, clothing, and sanitary products? Or does he just provide sakgeld?”

Mo: “Their basic needs I cover in full, but his money provides their luxuries, and they choose what to spend that on.”

Me: “I apologise for posing it as sakgeld, since it is not technically pap geld since it doesn’t go directly to you. I know that he has a home of his own and he also remarried, so his responsibilities in terms of money are just as big, but unlike you he has a two-income household, which is a little different, you know?”

Mo: “Absolutely, and I understood what you meant. You are right, it is different, because I am a single mom literally, but then he provides them with a little more financial freedom. You know, in the divorce decree, the agreement was that he had to cover fifty percent of school fees, extracurricular activities, and medical bills. I haven’t gotten any of that. She chuckles. But I can’t wait for those things or go to court and fight for it.”

Me: “Why not?”

Mo: “It would take away from time with my girls and having their needs met in time. All I have ever asked him was to be there for the girls and take care of them emotionally and physically – always make sure they are safe, especially when they are with him.” 

Me: “And that he does?”

Mo: “Absolutely, I am very proud of him and his relationship with the girls. They have a great dad.”

Mo briefly sheds light on the anger her eldest daughter experienced during their separation and later their divorce. She says, “She wanted nothing to do with him. She used to say she hated him, and I mean she was nine at the time. They had no relationship. And I always just thought hate was such a strong word”. Mo extended a great deal of empathy to her eldest daughter at the time, as she understood the responsibilities and emotions that came with being an eldest daughter. Even so, Mo admits that the greatest difference between her and her daughter was that her daughter could work through her anger, whereas she could not. Mo expresses, “I have never told anyone about the anger I felt towards him (her father), not even the girls. Mo takes a moment to gather herself and takes a tissue to wipe her tears, but continues by saying. The woman he later married never kept us in the loop, she never wanted us around”. She never had the opportunity to voice this and imparts that the day she found out that he was sick, they were already prepping his body for his funeral. But she chose to forgive and says, “That type of anger and resentment will vriet jou op. I never wanted that for myself. It is what it is at the end of the day. It was not my fault, and I am at peace now.”

Furthermore, Mo actively chose to raise her girls in her neighbourhood – “We call it the ghetto,” she says. At the time, she thought that the ghetto could provide her girls with a carefree, play-in-the-streets childhood, like the one she had. She remembers her and her brother riding their bikes until 9 pm in Pine Street, and her parents never having to worry about their safety. Unfortunately, the crime rates in Cloetesville continued to climb and eventually became unlivable. Most recently, Mo has stated that as soon as her girls are old enough to carve out their own path, stand on their own two feet, and create a life for themselves better than what she could offer them, she is indeed parting ways with the ghetto. Mo makes it known that the crime rates in Cloetesville is not the sole reason she would part ways with the ghetto, but mostly because of the maintenance of owning a home. The upkeep of a yard, a garden, making sure both gates are locked, and having to do pest control when her neighbours are not too keen on doing it for their own homes. She says, “My kids are grown now, maybe it is time to find a better place to live, safer is not the right word, more relaxed, less maintenance like an estate, give some responsibility to others. I do not expect my kids to stay here; they should do better.”

Mo would not consider herself “well-liked” in her neighbourhood; she often gets referred to as “Die wit vrou” or a “Mrs high and mighty”. Mo admits, “I know that's what people call me. And you know what? I've learned not to be faced by it”. Mo tends to keep to herself and not indulge in the neighbourhood gossip, she is also not someone that you would catch by foot in the neighbourhood or actively socializing. This creates a disconnect between her and her neighbours, she is not afraid to call law enforcement if her neighbour’s music is too loud especially when it is exam time for her girls. But Mo is actively passionate about her community; nonetheless, she says, “I love the community that I live in, I love the people I live around, they have taught me a lot of the years”. Although she does not seem like she is actively participating in the community, Mo is in the know; she knows her neighbours and what is transpiring in their household whether good or bad, she knows their children, their ages, and where they go to school, and what they do for work. My mother always used to joke, “She doesn’t leave her house, but she knows”, and Mo would laugh and reply, “Ja, nee, Mo weet alles.” 

There may be a disconnect when it comes to socialising, Mo expresses, “I am not a let’s hang out at each other’s house type of person. I distance myself from conversations I don’t find productive”. However, Mo is not disconnected from the hardships her neighbours face. In October 2024 Mo’s neighbours a few houses down, house burned down. Mo was especially frustrated with the municipality, which did not rebuild their home and simply gave them Wendy houses, she says, “Because I mean, they are not fixing up their house. A Wendy house requires a lot. They will have to use candles and gas, I mean, you know, you guys use gas, and that is your responsibility, I use gas; it is a big responsibility.”

Moreover, as soon as Mo heard about the fire, she remembered that she had a date with her high school friends in late November and had said to them via their WhatsApp group, “Please, when we get together, please bring all your old clothes or whatever you have at home. Uhm, because I’ve got the people whose house burned down. It was black bags and boxes and stuff, but I called up the ladies in the road, and I said, "This is what I have, it is not new, and some things are used up. But at least it’s for you to start again.”

For Mo, this is an important act; she still occupies the home she spent her childhood and adulthood in, and she is getting to see the third generation grow up right in front of her eyes. These are the values her parents instilled in her. Her dad used to host movie nights and karate classes for the children in the community, to keep them busy, keep them off the street, and to give them something to look forward to. Mo holds space especially for the young men in her community who she often employs to clean her yard, pick up after the dogs, or to wash her car, and states, “No one works in my yard and doesn't get compensated, even if I send you to go buy me a beer, you will be paid” She chuckles. However, this initiative of creating employment and always having something to donate is not always seen by others as “pure”, according to Mo, it is seen as a performance, almost as if she is living in a different “tax bracket” than the rest of the community. 

Me: “I mean, if we are being honest, I am sure you are earning more money than most of the women in your community.”

Mo chuckles and admits, “I do, but I thought that was the point, you know? If you have more to give, then share, give!”

Me: “I mean it sounds like the whole point. Maar in ons communities daar is 'n afgunstigheid.”

Mo: “Absolutely, but I’m not doing things in the community for myself to make myself feel good or look good. I do it for the community. You know, my soup kitchen that I do, the clothes I give out. I mean, it’s not for me, it’s not about wanting to look good or feel good. It is not even about sleeping better at night; it is for the community.”

Me: “I feel like once there is a title placed on you like die wit vrou or Mrs high and mighty, it’s like, oh well, everything I do seems like I am not moving with pure intentions, might as well do it anyway.”

Mo laughs: “Ja, neh!” 

My mum and Mo have been friends since 1999; she was always Auntie Moerieda to me until my late teen years when she started or ended her messages and voice notes as “Mo”, and the auntie label gradually departed. Mo and I have always had broad conversations about various topics, but what has always intrigued me about her is her fearlessness and the fact that she does not complain.

I reminded Mo of an event that happened back in 2021, where my mum asked if she would prepare her renowned rotis for their kuier. Mo showed up to our house with her gas stove and dough, but while preparing the rotis on the gas stove, she forgot the lighter under the stove and there was a small explosion, everyone ran to the nearest exit, some even left their husbands behind, while Mo stood with a spatula in hand, crunchy eyebrows and fringe, she did not ask if anyone was okay and simply said, “Guys, do not be so afraid of everything, live a little” and continued with her rotis. Mo says that she gets her fearlessness from her mum, she says, “Daai vrou was bang vir niemand en niks, ghetto queen daai, she had more balls than my dad.”

Mo highlights the struggles of being a woman in the ghetto, and proclaims, “Men often do not respect women, women are not seen as equal.”

Me: “How so?”

Mo: “Uhm, look it hasn’t been easy. You’ve got your challenges, because men in our communities don’t really respect women, you know? They normally see women as not equal; women are supposed to tend to the household and the children. There is a lack of respect.”

Me: “Explain.”

Mo: “I have seen the abuse that women go through here; physical, mental, alcoholism, and drug abuse, not to mention the verbal abuse.” 

Me: “And those things are seen as a lack of respect to a woman’s body and mental state?”

Mo: “Absolutely. It was challenging to see and witness, or it was a challenge for me.”

Me: “Was?”

Mo: I’ve sort of like, uhm earned that respect from the men in my community, you know? And they look up to me, which is sort of inspirational because I am inspiring men to not see women as somebody lower than themselves to see women as equal.”

Me: “How so?”

Mo: “I think it is because of my background, the way I grew up, and who I am today. It is my social standing in life and what I have achieved. I stand up for what is right and equal, and men’s place in the world or their religious place needs to be challenged.” 

Me: “Obviously not many women can share this sentiment.”

Mo: “No, it is a work in progress. It is difficult to combat these things without the help of your community’s support, it is too difficult to do it on your own.”

Although, according to Mo she has earned the respect of her community, it still does not make her very well-liked, she states “And that’s okay, I am happy with my own company”. Although there is “a lack of boundaries hier in die ghetto” she is still “eternally grateful” for what the ghetto “represents.”

“What does it represent?” I ask

Mo: “You know, I have always felt comfortable in the ghetto.”

Me: “Even while raising women…”

Mo interrupts and says, “Don’t get me wrong, I am a trying mom in the ghetto. Keeping your kids safe from drug abuse and keeping them safe enough to feel free. But in the ghetto, there are always eyes; someone is looking out for your house, everyone knows your children, so it is easy to track them down. Even now, when Dana (her eldest daughter) walks to the shop, there is always someone who says daai is Poerie se kleinkind. And you know it has been decades since my dad passed. There is respect and acknowledgement.”

In Mo's chosen image, her eyes are not fixated on the camera; instead, she averts her gaze. It looks like Mo is sitting down, her body slightly angled towards a leaning pose, perhaps consciously aware of the camera; the averted gaze almost feels deliberate. Her naturally curly hair swept to one side, but not fully framing her face, it seems as if she is not wearing any make-up or perhaps light make-up. 

“Why this picture specifically? I ask

Mo: "The expression on my face, I was in my element, I felt good about myself, my skin, my hair, I was in a good space, I was happy. I was glowing.”

Here Mo contextualises her own visual, she is placing particular emphasis on the beauty she sees when she looks back on her chosen visual; she views her hair as healthy, her skin as clear, and overall, how good she felt about what this specific visual represents; which is not solely based on it being a beautiful picture of her, but the fact that she was genuinely happy with her life. 

“Why do I get the sense something has changed from the time this picture was taken? What has changed?” I inquire 

Mo sighs and then chuckles: “I feel like I am in a therapy session.” But then nods and says, “My work environment.” 

“Would you like to share?” 

Mo highlights her possible retrenchment. How she has given the company twenty-one years and says, “But that is how it goes when you work for trust fund babies, they do not want to use their own money, so they sell to the highest bidder, and that bidder does not want the original staff members, but their own people”. She says that she is grateful for earning the salary she has, that she is grateful that she still has a stable income, but that her work environment is “toxic”. She does not understand where the “loyalty” she requires and deserves has gone to, how her commitment and devotion to her job have not been factored into corporate’s decision. She states that she has never used her disabilities as an excuse. Mo has anomalies and severe anxiety that often lead to panic attacks, and both of those things put immense strain on her physical and emotional well-being, but even on her off days, if they need her, she gets out of bed and goes to work. She has worked seven days a week for three weeks straight many times; she is present and passionate. But retaliates and says, “I will probably not get re-employed, I am fifty, not twenty-two with blonde hair and perky boobs”. But often at work, she keeps her opinions to herself; she does not engage. 

The dedication she has to her job has made her community work hard to get to. Often working seven days a week does not leave one enough time, and she misses her soup kitchen, and states, “I hate that my work situation has disrupted my personal responsibilities”. Instead, Mo started her own little tuckshop called Mo’s Odds and Ends. She does not sell luxuries per se, but necessities. She has created a “On the boekie system” as she calls it, where, until the end of the month, you can purchase as much as you like. Mo also tries to cater to her customers’ needs by asking them if there is anything new, she should start selling, as well as apologising for not always being oppit due to her schedule. Mo states that there is heavy food insecurity in her community and explains, “It is not like you can go to Checkers and pay two weeks later, and we have a lot of food insecurity here.” 

Me: “I personally love your tuckshop, but do you ever think that it is a hard thing to cater to? Like, most of your customers are pensioners or single mothers, and this is your way of also creating a second income. Are you getting where I am going with this?”

Mo: “I do. Listen, you know what’s astonishing? That my pensioners and lower-income customers always pay me in full, no excuses. I often have to fight for my money with my more middle-class customers. Are they considered middle class?” Mo pauses and thinks.

Me: “Maybe the missing middle?”

Mo: “That sounds accurate. Listen, do not get me wrong, hulle draai ook vas en ons almal het al bietjie gesukkel veral voor pay day, but they earn more than my pensioners and Charelentjie oorkant die pad. A few of them still owe me.” 

This visual appears to be partially associated with time and timing. She draws on a particular time in her life where she had the time to be devoted and forthcoming to the things that she views as important, but had to give up on certain things because she simply did not have the time to be present, and equally be passionate and devoted to her job. How her source of income and the source where a lot of her passion lies became something that has disconnected her from community work, but also how she chose those things at the time because she thought through her job she had a forever place to go, a financially comfortable space, and a space she truly enjoyed, but that space no longer exist to the extent to which it did twenty-one years ago when she first started. Mo’s chosen visual represents her present self wanting to return to her past self, particularly at the time of her chosen visual. There is a security blanket, endless possibilities for growth, the freedom of devotion, and financial security that her present self is yearning for, and presumably will no longer have at the end of this year. 

“I am happy, I am not quite content but I am sure I will get there. There is so much I would love to do; one of them to visit Germany once again. Beautiful country, strange cuisine, awesome beer, its inhabitants seldom understood. The only country I know of that celebrates their firemen and they don’t even have as many fires like the rest of the world. Some people believe its just another excuse to drink beer…..cheers to that.

I bask in the Mercy and Grace of my Saviour, I am blessed. I’ve been at death’s door a couple of times but then God tells me he has other plans for me.

I love my Lord cause He’s Mercy has never failed me, all my days I am held in Your Hands. I live in the Goodness of God and that is my motto in life, cause without Him, nothing is possible.

A very close friend of mine told me “Don’t wait, the time will never be right, start where you are and with the tools you have. You will acquire better tools as you go along”. Never understood it until I started.

I love positivity in life, laughter, joy, passion. I believe that smiling can brighten someone else’s day and to never judge someone else, we all fight different battles throughout our lives and when I look around me, mine is lightweight in comparison what other people are facing.

I live for my children, life, love, happiness and to be the best version of me.”

I asked Mo if she was a writer in any way, and she chuckled and said, “I scribble here and there”. And that she would like to write something for my thesis. This piece symbolises who Mo is to her core; it is her daily feelings put into context. The peace she found outside of Islam, that she finally has a higher power that empowers her. That love and laughter make her world turn, that she would like to visit Germany again, and that being a kid from the ghetto who saw a little part of the world meant so much to her at the time. Mo highlights her love for beer, her appreciation for German cuisine and how it is practised within their culture, and the celebration of their essential workers. This symbolises a feeling of self, but also reaching an understanding of self that she has not yet fully conceptualised. Although this piece encases the multitude of things that bring her joy as well as specific type of joy she wants to experience through travel again – what strikes me is in this first line before venturing into the essence of this piece, she mentions that she is “not quite content” yet, as her piece progresses it does read as fulfilling, but ultimately Mo says, “I am not a needy person, but I would love to have someone to go to, which is secure, someone to call up and be there, a male figure, the women in my life are great support, but you know that romantic something.  I may not need it, but I do want it”. Her chosen visual and writing piece perhaps symbolises a testimony of sorts on how she would like to recapture joy again; she says that she is not afraid of starting over. She would like to get back to a space where she can pay it forward and not in the financial sense, and proclaims, “Humility as a form of happiness, we do not share enough, our society, our community would be a much better place if we shared more.” 

At this moment, Mo highlights that “Being a Coloured woman is hard”, and even “harder” in the “ghetto”, she explains, “We are looked down upon, our lack of education, money, resources” and what she often finds the most startling is that it is not white women who look down upon the ghetto, but upper middle class Coloured women. Mo proclaims that she does not always identify as a feminist; she says, “I have my feminist days”, but that she does believe and support feminist issues: “I believe in equality”, she states. As she speaks she is getting passionate about various issues, 1) healthcare and speaks on the community’s local clinic, where you arrive at 7 am and only get assisted by 2 pm, die wag keeping you from a day’s work, not being there to welcome your children home from school, die wag that often makes you too exhausted to cater to your home that day, “How is that okay?!” she exclaims, 2) the physical and emotional abuse women face, where they often do not have support and not knowing how to ask for it, 3) seeing the third generation leaving school and getting addicted to drugs, 4) how law enforcement takes their time, “Why must we wait all day to be served?” she sighs. Mo explains that there is no direct link between the ghetto and feminism, and feminism is not widely understood in her community. There is little to no involvement or support from feminists; therefore, she states, “It is difficult, but you make your choices as you go along, based on circumstances. We do not have a choice.” 

From our first interview up until our follow-up interview in August, Mo did get to her “responsibilities” as she refers to her community work. On the 16th of July 2025, from 1 pm to 5 pm, Mo had her annual soup kitchen at her home for members of her nearby community. Mo had requested that the children come first as “Die grootmense kan nog bietjie uithou”. This was Mo playing for time as well, as her goal was to make three pots of soup, but she only had so much space and equipment to cook with. She made a pot of soup with nekkies to provide protein and had to wait for it to cook all the way through en sop is 'n ding wat moet deur trek before it can be served (which my mother and Mo reminded me of numerous times during this day). As soon as the children in the neighbourhood arrived, Mo greeted each child by name and asked how their parents were doing and if they were stopping by for soup later in the day. And before dishing, she asked them to pray. Mo was visibly shocked when she didn’t recognise some children and then proceeded to ask them who their parents or grandparents were. Mo held the same energy for the elders in her community; she knew who was at work and therefore could not make it.

Mo’s annual soup kitchen is closely tied to her community of friends. Mo and her friends have a savings account together called “Cloetesville Primary reunion group” where every month they put money into the account in which they fund the soup kitchen, send flowers to a grieving family in the community or if there is someone in need. This specific group of friends are from primary school and all through high school friend group from Cloetesville. A few of them did not finish matric or went to other high schools after primary school, but they have stayed in contact throughout the years and get together every few months if everyone’s schedule allows. Mo states, “We decided a long time ago that we don’t just party together but give back to the community. There is regular feedback on my side on what is being spent. My friends know I go big with the soup kitchen. We are trying to achieve something; there’s a clear goal.”

Mo emphasises that there are friends in the group that cannot always contribute financially, whether that is to the community or a night out, but she never wants them to feel excluded. Mo says, “You are welcome to come even if you can’t contribute. You don’t need money to come to the group gatherings. That is also why we have the savings account. Your meal I can pay out of that”. Mo highlights that because these are friends that she has known since the age of six, they grew up in petty Apartheid together, and their group has faced discrimination. Mo draws on a specific day when all of them got together to catch up. They went to a well-known plekkie in the Winelands, and although they were allowed to enjoy the bar, the manager refused them entry to the restaurant, although there were only two occupied tables. 

Me: “How do you expect someone to drink all day on an empty tummy!”

Mo: Exactly! – and when we sit down to eat, that is the moment the fun kind of stops, and we get into what is transpiring in each other’s lives and how are family is doing.”

Me: “I get that. It’s like over a meal vulnerability gets evoked.”

Mo: “Especially when you’re Coloured, a meal is not just a meal.” 

I nod: “It creates a sense of belonging and community.”

Mo: “Exactly!”

Me: “And that was taken away from y’all that day.”

Mo: “So, we all got into our cars and went to a different restaurant. And they were so nice and even offered to take pictures of us.”

Mo admits that she is “Lazy when I am home.”  When she does have an off day, she sleeps in and watches her shows. Currently, she is in the process of working through almost ten seasons of the show The Blacklist. But she would rather spend her days outdoors having a picnic in Jonkershoek and going for a wine tasting, and if the weather does not permit, she says, “We can just chill the bottle in the fridge.”

Mo: “The ghetto is not very forgiving. You do something to us, you cut, and we bleed buckets. Sometimes you need a kop skiet, but the problems are back.”