Tinus van Staden
On a smallholding in Wallmansthal, a former Protea player and a cricket fanatic from different worlds have joined forces to give 13 young cricket players from townships a chance to make something of their lives through sport. Tinus van Staden and Elizabeth Sejake visited the Gijima Cricket Academy.
As you drive north along the pothole-riddled dirt road of Springbok Street, few signs of life greet you. To the right, you pass a row of pine trees. To the left, in the distance, four cooling towers of the Rooiwal power station reach for the sky. You drive past a lonely wind pump, take a turn where Boer goats chew on thorn trees, head down Blesbok Street, turn left into Steenbok Street, and just before you reach Koedoe Street, the Bidvest Protea Coin training facilities sit on the right.
In the middle of nowhere, 30 km north of Pretoria, lies a field of dreams for 13 young cricket players from townships—young people for whom cricket offers an escape from a life of alcohol, drugs, and gang violence.
We drive through the gates and park in front of the farmhouse. To the right, cadets are undergoing security training.
Chris Laubscher, head of human resources at Bidvest Protea Coin and the mastermind behind the company’s sports outreach programs, introduces himself and takes us to the farmhouse, where coffee is ready.
“There was nothing here, just an empty field,” Laubscher says, pointing to the now-impressive cricket field stretching out in front of the farmhouse.
Complete with a grandstand, a mezzanine overlooking the field, and a Long Room filled with sports memorabilia, all built from repurposed shipping containers.
Laubscher, from Krugersdorp, is a passionate cricket fan. In 2019, he dreamed of setting up a pitch on this piece of land. He searched far and wide for someone to help and eventually connected with the Hammanskraal Cricket Club.
“They were willing to help. They assisted in building the pitch and preparing the fields. That’s where our relationship with the Hammanskraal Cricket Club began, and now they use our facilities as their third field. On Saturdays, their third team plays here,” says Laubscher, who sometimes even steps in as a player when they are short.
“Over the years, we’ve connected with more people in the cricket community. That’s when I met Aaron Phangiso, who runs a winter program with the Titans.”
Phangiso, a former Proteas left-arm spinner, launched the Phangiso Cap program in 2023, which provides coaching in underprivileged areas. He also collaborates with Cricket South Africa (CSA) through their Hub Program. CSA operates around 70 cricket hubs—regional academies in remote areas across the country—offering quality facilities and coaching where mostly black and coloured children from various schools and clubs can train and play.
“Aaron’s winter program is for U19 players from the hubs, focusing on players from Hammanskraal, Atteridgeville, Mamelodi, Eersterust, and Soshanguve. The U19 winter squad has played on our field a few times,” says Laubscher.
That’s how his relationship with Phangiso started.
“There are many talented boys in that winter squad, but a big problem is that not all of them go to university after school. Many just play club cricket on Sundays but otherwise sit at home with no income or opportunities.”
“So, we looked for a way to help them.”
That’s how the Gijima Cricket Academy was born—an extension of Bidvest Protea Coin’s broader Gijima Soccer Program.
Laubscher secured funding for 13 internships, which he then offered to promising young cricket players from these townships with Phangiso’s help. The players arrived at the Wallmansthal smallholding in January to begin the two-year program. They follow an academic and training curriculum provided by Bidvest Protea Coin and receive cricket coaching three times a week.
The players live on the smallholding, receive daily meals, and earn a monthly salary. On weekends, they play for their club teams, and some are even part of the Titans Colts, the union’s youth development squad.
“We focus on security training with them, emphasizing long-term career opportunities in security technology or VIP protection,” says Laubscher.
“They also take classes to earn their PSIRA qualification (for security industry workers). Then, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, Aaron or one of the coaches from his Cap program comes in to train them.”
Laubscher also shows us their own “broadcast studio”—a booth with screens linked to security cameras (“After all, we are a security company”) focused on the cricket field. They stream matches live on YouTube.
“For the first time, a mother can watch her son play cricket,” Laubscher says.
Speaking of the players—Laubscher becomes slightly impatient because their training session was supposed to start at 10:00, and it’s now 10:05. Coach Abraham Ndlovu from Phangiso Cap has already set up the cones on the field.
“I’m going to find out where they are,” Chris says, walking away with his phone in hand. “Oh, and look, there’s a tiger on the neighbouring farm,” he adds, pointing over the wall.
Sure enough, in the distance, the striped cat paces up and down.
‘If Not for Cricket, I’d Be Smoking Now’
“Sorry, sir, we had to finish some exam papers,” says top-order batsman Lindokuhle Mahlangu (22) as he and his teammates jog onto the field. He is one of the players here who plays for the Titans Colts. Mahlangu, from Atteridgeville, has seen the rough side of life—just like all the players here.
“It wasn’t easy to get here, but I kept working hard,” he says half an hour later, dripping with sweat after intense fielding drills.
“It’s tough in the townships. Every day, you hear about shootings, bombs, and bank robberies. Cricket has taught me a lot. It helped me get out of the township.”
Most of the players here have represented the Titans at youth level, including Teko Modiba from Hammanskraal, a versatile all-rounder.
“I only started playing cricket in high school (at Prestige College, matriculating in 2022). My role model is Hardik Pandya from India.”
Teko has four older brothers and a sister and was raised by a single mother.
“When I was six years old, a bus hit me. But I’m still alive. Last year, I was just sitting at home doing nothing. Now I’m here. I don’t want to go back to Hammanskraal. I want to be responsible.”
The rigorous Gijima Academy program is good for him, “but, wow, it makes you tired.”
“We run around every day from early in the morning. But I’ll keep going. Without cricket, I’d probably be smoking by now.”
Twenty-three-year-old Thabiso Mutubatse from Mamelodi has been playing cricket for 14 years.
“There have been many challenges, especially in a township, where crime and drugs are everywhere. God was on my side. I kept playing cricket, and it has played a huge role in my life. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for cricket,” says the wicketkeeper.
“I realized it’s not just about the game but also about life. This is a huge opportunity for me. After matric, I wasn’t doing anything—I was just playing cricket. Now I can study and receive training. Maybe I won’t make it as a cricketer, but maybe I’ll make it with the qualification I earn here.”
Phangiso now plays for the Knights in Bloemfontein and has arranged for two players from the Free State to also secure internships at the academy. One of them is 21-year-old Retselisitsoe Seboka from Rocklands in Bloemfontein.
“I started playing cricket on the streets, then at school, then mini-cricket, and eventually, I earned Free State colors,” says the versatile player.
“There are many challenges in Rocklands, but I try to avoid them. I stay indoors all the time unless I go to the shop or training. But there are problems: smoking, drinking, gangs, and all those bad things. My love for cricket kept me away from those things.”
Among the 13 apprentices, there is also a female player, but she is not present today. The group is full of dreamers: Retselisitsoe wanted to become a chef, Andile Molo from Soshanguve wanted to be a teacher or engineer, Teko wanted to be a soldier, Thabiso a sports scientist, Emanual Makena, who previously worked at Hungry Lion, wanted to be a police officer, and Sifiso Maseko from Mamelodi wanted to be a DJ.
Some of them didn’t have the money, while others’ grades weren’t good enough. Vuyani Phangiso’s uncle, who was paying for his studies, passed away.
“Sport has always been an opportunity for us because we come from difficult backgrounds,” says Coach Abraham as the players head from their fieldwork session to the nets. Abraham himself is from Mamelodi, played first-class cricket for Northerns, and also represented Tuks. He has both undergraduate and postgraduate qualifications in sports science.
“There are good cricketers here,” he says.
Each of them just needed a chance. And that’s what they got through cricket, thanks to Laubscher and Aaron.
“Because I grew up in Sosh, I understand these boys’ struggles,” says Aaron later over the phone.
He is not here today because he is back training with the Knights in Bloemfontein.
“I was lucky enough to get out of Sosh with a scholarship to CBC in Pretoria, but many other kids don’t get that opportunity. They play cricket with the hope of making it, but as we all know, it’s not easy when you come from a township,” says the left-arm spinner, who represented South Africa in 37 matches.
“I know what it feels like to have a dream but not the right ‘tools’ to realize it—the right coaching, the right facilities. That’s what these boys experience daily. I want to help them.”
The partnership with Laubscher was a godsend.
“These guys are now receiving proper coaching at good facilities, and they don’t have to worry about where their next meal will come from or where they will sleep. One of these boys used to sleep at the Mamelodi cricket club, in a corrugated iron shack under the stadium. And this is about more than just cricket—it gives them something to fall back on after cricket.”
At the Nets: ‘Right in the Nuts!’
Lindokuhle takes his stance in one of the three astro nets.
“I’ve got a deep square leg, mid-on, two slips…” he begins, positioning the imaginary fielders so that the bowlers can practice as if they are in a match.
A fast bowler runs in. Somewhere in the field, a few chickens cackle.
The bowler misses his length, drops the ball short, and dwa!—Lindo smashes it over mid-on. He blocks the next ball, drives a full delivery through the covers, sweeps for six, and then blocks again.
This kid can bat.
“Nice googly,” he encourages a bruised leg-spinner.
Then, pandemonium breaks out in the net next to him: Aphiwe Nqwani, likely the fastest bowler here, hits Kagiso (KG) Ngwenya. He goes down, and Coach Abraham rushes over, lifts his legs, and taps under his feet—a common sign of a hit to a sensitive area.
KG confirms it minutes later when he—grinning broadly—walks out of the nets.
“Right in the nuts!”
Meanwhile, Lindo keeps batting, and I stand behind him. He rarely hits a ball with anything other than the middle of the bat. After a powerful pull shot, he examines his battered bat—like a soldier inspecting his rifle.
“It’s broken,” he says.
Doesn’t sound like it.
Laubscher joins us for lunch at the farmhouse before seeing us off at the car.
“What I’ve learned from this process is that you don’t always need R10 million, a SWOT analysis, a marketing plan, and spreadsheets to make a difference. Start small. Everything adds up. And it’s incredibly fulfilling,” he says.
But surely the company can’t be doing this purely out of the goodness of its heart? What’s in it for you?
He laughs. “On one hand, it’s a passion project, but let’s put that aside for a moment. We have clients across the country. Everyone wants to know: What are you doing in our community? Through this sports initiative, I can take a kid from Soshanguve, Atteridgeville, or anywhere, and I can say this is what we’re doing there.”
Hardly capitalism’s greatest evil.
CSA Struggles to Drive Transformation Alone
Out of the 26,500 schools in the country, cricket is played at only 6,577. Nearly 20,000 schools do not play cricket because the government does not invest in sports infrastructure at schools, wrote Fanie Heyns last year.
Refentse Shinners, Head of Public Relations for CSA, stated at the time that a lack of proper infrastructure at most township and rural schools leads to lost talent.
“We cannot afford to invest in the entire pipeline on our own,” says Shinners.
CSA needs help from the government and the private sector.
The lack of ethnically black players on the biggest stage is once again a major talking point, especially in the SA20 league.
“I am a product of transformation. If it weren’t for transformation, I wouldn’t be standing here today,” says Coach Abraham.
“But there’s more work to be done. That’s why we started this initiative. It doesn’t help to point fingers and say this person must do this and that person must do that. We decided to be the change that everyone is looking for.”
Aaron agrees.
“It’s simply bad luck that these boys were born into disadvantaged circumstances, but there are people out there trying to help.”
In Springbok Street, there might be nothing. But not on this smallholding.
Here, there is a Long Room, a tiger, and 13 young people with hope for a better future.