The God Who Restores What Was Ruined By Harold Mawela, from Akasia, Pretoria The winter morning broke grey over Akasia. I sat on my veranda, watching the minibus taxis cough to life along Dr. Swanepoel Road, their conducteurs hanging from doors like prayers desperate for answers. My phone buzzed—another notification about the SAHRC's damning report on pit latrines in Limpopo schools. Seven years old. Seven years dead. Another child, Michael Komape, whose body they retrieved from a toilet pit in 2014, and still, our children swim in sewage while we swim in rhetoric. I put down my rooibos and stared at the jacaranda outside my gate, its branches gnarled by last summer's hailstorms but somehow budding again. And I thought: This is what God does. He buds what we bury. The Scandal of Specificity: Restoration Has an Address Let us define our terms with surgical precision, for vagueness is the vocabulary of the devil Restoration is not renovation. Renovation updates; restoration retu...
Title: The Scepter of Service: When Downward Mobility Becomes Your Greatest Upgrade By Harold Mawela, Akasia, Pretoria From my veranda here in Akasia, the winter morning light cuts across the veld like a polished spear. I sit with my coffee, watching the minibus taxis hoot and hustle on the R101, their conductors hanging out the windows with that famous South African urgency. "Kasi to town! Kasi to town!" They're fighting for passengers, fighting for fares, fighting for the front. And isn't that the story of our lives? We are all fighting for the front. We see it in the boardrooms of Sandton, where executives sharpen elbows for the corner office. We see it in the queues at Home Affairs, where patience is a forgotten virtue. We see it in the crumbling coalition politics of our metros—where the scramble for the speaker's chair often drowns out the cries of the shack dweller. We mistake the throne for the goal. But Jesus—our paradoxical, upside-down King—looks at thi...