Our first visit to South Africa was in 2005. Michael, my late partner, and I were seeking more than just sunshine and scenery — we were looking for something real, something human. That’s when we met Jaucki, a tour guide who introduced us to township life — and unknowingly, to a whole new way of understanding relationships.
Many people imagine townships as impoverished and chaotic. But what I saw was a place alive with connection. These were communities where relationships were not optional, but essential — where families lived close, neighbours talked daily, and hardship was faced together.
Of course, challenges existed — addiction, poverty, and fractured homes. I saw the strain these placed on families and the heartbreak of trust broken between loved ones. But even amidst the struggle, I saw bonds being rebuilt and held together by sheer will and compassion.
Meeting Dreamcatcher — And a New Kind of Family
It was through Jaucki that I met Anthea Rossouw, founder of Dreamcatcher South Africa. Her vision was simple but radical: empower marginalised women through education and enterprise so they could care for their families with dignity. In other words, strengthen the relationships that matter most — between parents and children, neighbours and friends.
Michael and I returned every December for 15 years. It became a rhythm of our relationship — not just with each other, but with the community we had come to love. He took extraordinary photographs that captured something words often missed: the quiet strength of mothers, the joy of children, the unity of neighbours leaning on one another.
I led workshops on entrepreneurship. He created portraits that told human stories. Together, we were more than visitors — we were participants in something deeply relational.
My First Assignment: Confidence Through Connection
My most recent visit took me to a school in the Kwanangaba towns
hip, where I led a confidence-building workshop for teenagers. I asked them to look each other in the eye and shake hands with purpose — to feel the strength of that moment of connection.
It was awkward at first, but slowly, something shifted. There was laughter, and a spark of self-belief. What began as a simple gesture became a lesson in how we relate to the world — and to ourselves.
Relationships start here: in the small signals of respect and presence. I reminded those young people that connection begins with showing up — with eye contact, a smile, and the courage to be seen.
Continuing the Journey — In Michael’s Name
Michael passed away last year, but his love still travels with me. Before he died, we spoke about the work we had started — how it had shaped our own relationship and brought us closer.
And so, I returned. Alone, yes — but carrying our shared commitment to the people who had welcomed us so generously. Each workshop I now deliver — on stress, on wellbeing, on resilience — is part of that legacy.
The Universal Language of Love and Stress
When I speak to women in South Africa about stress, the themes are universal: relationships under strain, not enough time, feeling unheard. Whether in a London boardroom or a township kitchen, the human heart speaks the same language.
And in both places, stress often arises when relationships falter — when we feel unsupported, unseen, or disconnected.
But the solutions, too, are shared: empathy, communication, trust.
A Community that Still Knows How to Love
After six years away — separated by the pandemic — I didn’t know what to expect. But the welcome I received reminded me why this work matters. In Melkhoutfontein, where I’m staying, people still wave to one another. Children still play freely. Families still gather around shared meals.
In a world that often forgets the value of community, this place remembers. And it’s in these spaces — where love is visible in everyday actions — that relationships are not only built, but nourished.
Final Reflections: What Township Life Taught Me About Love
South African townships are not perfect. Addiction and poverty leave scars. But families stay close. Neighbours look out for one another. And love — even in its most practical forms — is everywhere.
Michael and I came here as outsiders. But we were drawn in by the strength of human connection. And now, even in his absence, that connection continues.
As I prepare for another workshop tomorrow, I hold this close:
Love doesn’t just survive across borders — it thrives, especially when it’s rooted in service, compassion, and community.
If you’d like to learn more or volunteer with Dreamcatcher South Africa, visit dreamcatchersouthafrica.com
