Four Seasons Before Lunch Gauteng (Pretoria)

 I have lived in Pretoria for half my life, but even at almost 50, l still am not ready for mornings like this . I step out of  home in the morning at 7 a.m., greeted by a warm, gentle breeze and sunshine so golden it felt like summer had arrived overnight. The sky was clear; the jacaranda trees glowed purple; the air smelled of warmth and possibility. “Perfect day,” l muttered, locking his door. By the time l drive out—five minutes later—the sky starts to be darkened. A cold wind came crawling in from nowhere, sweeping dust across the pavement. The temperature dropped so suddenly that  l have  to switch the heater for warmth. Laughing. “Ah, Pretoria… you never disappoint.” Halfway to the office, the heavens opened. Not soft rain— a storm . Sheets of water hammered the road, street gutters overflowed instantly, and distant thunder rolled like a grumpy giant waking up too early. People scattered, hiding under bus shelters already too full.  “Ten minutes ago...

The Richest Poor Nation: A Story of the DRC

 In the heart of Africa lies the Democratic Republic of Congo, a land so breathtakingly beautiful and unimaginably rich that it could, in theory, be one of the wealthiest countries on Earth. Beneath its fertile soils lies a treasure chest of minerals — cobalt, gold, diamonds, coltan, copper — resources the modern world depends on for everything from smartphones to electric cars. The rivers roar with hydroelectric potential, the forests teem with biodiversity, and the land could feed millions if harnessed well.

And yet… the people remain poor.

Decades of political instability, corruption, and exploitation have strangled the nation’s potential. Successive governments, instead of using the country’s wealth to build schools, hospitals, roads, and industries, have treated public office like a personal gold mine. The riches flow out — to foreign corporations, to private offshore accounts — while the streets of Kinshasa and the villages of Kivu cry out for clean water, decent wages, and peace.

Foreign powers have long played their part in the tragedy. In the scramble for resources, powerful nations and corporations fund conflicts, arm militias, and strike deals that benefit the few while leaving the many in rags. The DRC’s minerals are polished and sold in glistening markets overseas, while the miners who dig them — often barefoot and risking their lives — earn barely enough to survive.

But the real heartbreak lies not only in the theft of minerals, but in the theft of possibility. Every child denied education, every farmer without tools, every doctor working without medicine — these are the invisible losses, the untold fortunes squandered.

Still, the people of the DRC are resilient. They sing, they build, they dream. And somewhere deep within the soil and the soul of the country lies the same hope that has endured for generations: that one day, the nation’s wealth will serve its people, not just its politicians.

The question is — will that day come before the riches run out?

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