The th!nc Foundation

The interval between birth and death is brief, yet within it we can become sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, friends, classmates, and colleagues—and, through the lives we touch, shape a legacy. In his own interval, Simon Mampana—whom we knew affectionately as “See” or “C Lebuka”—became all these things and more. I first knew him as a classmate, the captain of our first softball team, and a school-break comedian of rare and unforgettable talent. We met at Tsako Thabo High School. Few who passed through its grounds could deny that Simon was their friend. We all knew him well, yet his warmth reached far beyond any single circle. He could be the quiet shadow beside you or the generous tree beneath which everyone gathered—to rest, to laugh and, sometimes, to climb. However, as See entered your life, he left something of himself behind. His passing matters because the way he lived among us reveals who he was, not only to his schoolmates, but to the wider Mamelodi community. As Simon ...

From 12712 to eternity, a brotherhood beyond goodbye, the friend my heart chose. The loss of a true friend tears open a place in the heart that words cannot easily reach. A friend is someone we choose from among many and invite into the most private chambers of our lives. When such a friend dies, we lose more than a companion. We lose a witness to our beginnings, a keeper of our secrets, and a living reminder of who we once were. In losing Jackie, I feel as though a part of my own story has been buried with him.   The friends we choose become the keepers of our fears, anxieties, secrets, dreams and joys. Often, they hear the news of our lives before our parents, our brothers or even our wives. Because we trust them, their counsel can redirect the course of our lives—for better or for worse.   I was born at 12715 in Mamelodi East, only two houses away from Lawrence “Moerkie” Hlatswayo—Jackie—at 12712 Itsuseng Street. We were born one month apart in the same year: he was the o...

Foreign nationals are already embedded in South Africa’s labour market, township commerce and urban life. Treating migration as a political slogan rather than an economic fact is not only a bad policy approach but bad economics. South Africa’s migration debate has become repetitive and unproductive. Public anger flares, foreign nationals are cast as the face of economic decline, and the same arguments return. Yet the underlying reality does not change. Migrants are already part of the labour market, township commerce, rental markets and consumer economy. The real issue is not whether migration exists, but whether South Africa is prepared to deal honestly with its economic consequences.   Businesses should pay closer attention. Recent estimates by Statistics South Africa place the immigrant population at more than three million. That is a material demographic fact with implications for labour supply, consumption patterns, market segmentation and urban demand. Any boardroom or ...

Power in sport, as in politics or business, is often misread through the theatre of reputation. A club can look invincible long after small signs of decline have already appeared. That is because dominance creates its own mythology: it teaches supporters, rivals and sometimes even decision-makers to confuse prestige with performance. Yet serious analysis begins where myth ends. The real question is never who looks strongest, but who is still meeting the underlying tests of sustained excellence. This is the problem with hegemonic institutions. They tend to overinvest in yesterday’s glory and under-read tomorrow’s threat. By the time challengers become visible, they have often already improved their systems, sharpened their execution and narrowed the gap. The complacent giant still speaks the language of inheritance, while the challenger speaks the language of present performance. In competitive environments, that distinction matters. Historical advantage buys time, but it does not buy...