Mvula

There’s something suspiciously honest about the sound of a kettle boiling. It starts off quiet, almost like it’s pretending it’s not listening. A soft purr in the background. Then, it begins to hiss, not shout, not scream, but hiss, like it’s letting you know it knows. And by the time it’s reached full boil, the kitchen is no longer just a room. It’s a confessional. And the kettle? The kettle is the therapist, the priest, and the snitch rolled into one stainless steel oracle. South Africans don’t just drink tea. We process through it. Someone dies? Kettle. Someone’s born? Kettle. Breakup? Kettle. New job? Kettle. Power’s back on? Kettle. The…

It’s one of those Hollywood moments that feels less like news and more like the script of fate catching up with real life. Dakota and Elle Fanning, two names that have danced through the credits of Hollywood since they were old enough to tie their own shoes, are finally sharing the screen in a full-length feature film. Not as passing cameos. Not as versions of each other. But as sisters, telling a story soaked in war, memory, and survival. Their upcoming film, The Nightingale, isn’t just another period piece. It’s an emotional sledgehammer based on Kristin Hannah’s best-selling novel, set during World War II and centered on two sisters navigating…

There’s a kind of quiet chill that settles over small towns when stories like this surface. Not the loud kind of crime that splashes across tabloid covers with sirens and court sketches, but something stranger, quieter, harder to get a handle on. That’s the feeling that’s followed Erin Patterson’s name around Victoria, Australia, ever since the day people first started whispering about mushrooms and murder in the same sentence. The facts seem almost too bizarre to be true. A family lunch in Leongatha, August last year. Four guests seated around a table, plates served with what seemed like nothing more than a homemade beef Wellington. Hours later, all four guests…

South London doesn’t usually wake up thinking about Chris Brown, but today the rhythms of the city shifted a little. Southwark Crown Court’s steps were lined not just with press but with fans, some of them holding up phones, others holding quiet hope that their favourite singer might glance their way. Chris Brown, two-time Grammy winner, global hitmaker, had arrived to face yet another round of serious legal questions, this time connected to an alleged nightclub assault. It wasn’t the usual loud tabloid circus. The energy felt more muted, maybe because this story has played out before, in different courts, in different countries. But for many in the UK, this…

In Mathibestad, a small town in the North West province of South Africa, something extraordinary unfolded this past weekend. The air was thick with nostalgia and love, the kind that only accumulates after a lifetime well-lived. Family, friends, and fans gathered not just to mark a single milestone, but to honor a man whose life has been a tapestry of music, marriage, and enduring impact. David “Mainline” Ngobeni, a jazz virtuoso and community stalwart, turned 70 this year. That, on its own, would be reason enough to celebrate. But the festivities held on July 6 carried even more significance, this year also marked his 40th wedding anniversary and his 40th…

There’s a photo somewhere on an old phone, cracked screen, SIM long gone, of a birthday cake lit by candlelight during loadshedding. It was never posted, never liked. Just a flickering moment trapped in pixels, buried beneath a gallery of screenshots and forgotten memes. In a world obsessed with the visible, that forgotten image might be one of the most honest things we leave behind. We talk about digital footprints like they’re permanent. But maybe it’s time to talk about digital heirlooms, the soft, human scraps of ourselves left behind in ones and zeroes. Scroll far enough through anyone’s timeline and you’ll see more than selfies and celebrations. You’ll see…

Walk into any South African supermarket, and you’ll see the queue at the Lotto counter. Scroll through your phone, and you’ll find a dozen online casinos promising you a shot at instant riches. The language is always the same: “Your chance to win big!” “Life-changing jackpots!” “It could be you!” But here’s the thing—most South Africans don’t actually know the difference between buying a Lotto ticket and placing a bet on the Springboks, spinning the reels on Gold Rush casino online, or playing blackjack at Sun City. The lines are blurred, and the industry likes it that way. But if you’re putting your hard-earned rands on the line, you deserve…

The power went out just before the kettle boiled. It always does. The timing so precise it feels intentional, like the grid has learned your habits and resents them. You could hear the last gurgle of water threatening to tip into steam before everything stopped, the fridge silenced mid-hum, the ceiling light clipped off, and the world collapsed into one single remaining source of glow,  the candle on the counter. It’s an old one. Bent slightly. Smells vaguely of wax paper and the back of a drawer. You don’t even remember where you bought it, but it’s been there through so many outages it’s starting to feel like a housemate.…

In the quiet hours when most of South Africa sleeps, a different kind of city comes to life. The highways thin out, the shops close their shutters, and the streets grow still. But behind petrol station counters, inside bakery kitchens, at factory gates and hospital corridors, there’s movement. It’s the hum of the night shift, the invisible engine that keeps the country running while the rest of it dreams. For many, night shift work isn’t a choice. It’s necessity. The extra pay might help cover school fees, or it might simply be the only available shift. But beyond the economic reasons, there’s a strange, quiet rhythm that pulls people into…

For many South Africans and cinema-goers around the world, the first introduction to Presley Chweneyagae came in the form of a quiet, intense performance that needed no bravado to leave its mark. As the lead character in Tsotsi, South Africa’s first film to win an Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film, Chweneyagae brought an incredible depth to a troubled young man navigating the fractured streets of Johannesburg. His portrayal of a hardened gangster softened by an unexpected moral awakening resonated across cultural and geographic lines. The performance was so raw and so intimate that it elevated the film to international acclaim and marked the arrival of a new talent…