Joburg’s inner city has a reputation. Crime, decay, broken buildings and abandoned dreams. That’s the story most of us believe. On Monday, I discovered another one.
Johannesburg, South Africa (07 March 2026) – I stood in a kitchen, in the middle of the inner city of Joburg, where everything is “broken”. Crying. I was trying to hold it back. But it wasn’t working. Hope is contagious.
In the middle of a conversation with Chef Anthony, standing in a massive what-used-to-be corporate kitchen, listening to what they do. I cried. Robbie Brozin (who was standing next to me) hugged me. Ja, the co-founder of ‘Nando’s’ and the founder of ‘Jozi My Jozi’ could see (and feel) what was going on. And he comforted me.
The work that I do takes me to places that move me. Often. Our emails overflow with good news, but in equal measure, we receive daily messages from people in need. We connect them with the people who can help them. That’s exactly why we created ‘The Helpers’. Our “sister” platform. A place that connects South Africans with the help they need. And connects the helpers with South Africans (so that we can help them). And it’s working. The platform is busy. It’s connecting people. ‘The Helpers’ is helping.
But the work I do also takes me to places, physically.
Robbie has been trying to get me to come see what they are doing at ‘Jozi My Jozi’. He is so passionate about fixing the inner city. If you haven’t watched my poddie with him, please do. It’s such an important conversation.
And even though I sat in a room with him, talking about the work he is doing, I didn’t fully understand it.
I do now.
Hope is contagious.
So, we set a date. “Meet me at 44 Main, Marshalltown, on Monday”. This Monday. Last Monday. It’s taken me a while to process. But sitting here this morning, after MCing a three-day conference, watching the sunrise on a Saturday, I’m ready to tell you a story.
I wrapped up at eNCA on Monday morning and made my way to 44 Stanley. Ja, that wasn’t a typo. I instinctively thought I was going to that beautiful little shopping centre in Braams. Like, we were going “for lunch”, so it made sense. I had my birthday there a couple of years ago. At the brewery. It’s the cutest. You must go. But I was wrong. 44 Main is in the middle of the CBD.
I HATE the middle of Joburg. It scares me. It’s filled with crime. And you have to be on super-alert all the time. It’s dirty. And falling apart. Nothing works there. Everything is broken.
But when Robbie asks you to go to lunch, you go where he tells you.
I changed the address and followed my WAZE. It took me to a multi-storey parking. A massive plaque said “Anglo American Only”. I explained that I was there for ‘Jozi My Jozi’ and the security guard, with the biggest smile, welcomed me. I parked, and he explained that I needed to cross the road, walk down a block, then turn left to see the entrance.
WALK?!?! IN THE MIDDLE OF THE JOBURG CBD?!?!?
Verkeerde WhatsApp-groepie, Maritjie.
But it wasn’t. And I had to.
I took a deep breath. Shoved my phone deep into my pocket. And started walking.
There were security guards on every corner. And it was clean. And the gardens were so beautiful. There were people everywhere. Walking around. Corporates, students, tourists, and everything in between. At one point, I saw a ballerina, in full garb, drinking an iced coffee, walking like she was in the middle of New York.
I wish I had taken a picture.
A young lady, dressed in her ballet kit, walking in the inner city without a care in the world. Her hair looked like it had been glued back, with the most perfect bun I have ever seen. With one hand, she was sipping her coffee; on the other, she had a bag loosely hanging over her shoulder. Not clutching it in fear of anything. Confident as all hell. Walking in the middle of Joburg’s inner city.
This is not the Joburg I carry in my mind. This is not the Joburg anyone would imagine. But it is real. And it is true.
The entrance to the building was unreal. No, the entire building is unreal. Anglo American built it in the 1930s. It was, and still is, an absolute marvel. It was their headquarters for almost 100 years. But they left seven years ago. The building sat empty. They were trying to sell it. To leave the city, like so many have. “No one wants to be in the Joburg CBD.”
Robbie stepped in a couple of years ago and suggested that they don’t. His belief is that the Anglo building was one of the first in the city, and it needed to be steadfast. It needed to stay. And become something else. It needed to be the thing that helps rebuild the city.
Mal, I know. This guy is nuts. But it’s the “crazy” ones that get things done.
They trusted him and in just two short years, the plan started to take shape.
I met Robbie in his office. Right next to the original Oppenheimer office. Every corner of this building carries history. You can see it. You can feel it. The wooden panels, the windows, the thick carpets, the furniture, the art. Every single surface holds a story. I told Robbie, while looking out his window, “you would swear you were in New York. Or London. Or Paris.” It’s unreal.
We chatted for a while and then Robbie took me on a tour of the building. The Dr John Kani Performing Arts Academy has moved in. And the Joburg Ballet school (hence the ballerina walking the streets like she owns the place).
He took me to a floor to meet an organisation that is changing the way we address homelessness in the city. We went deep into a conversation about how they are breaking the cycle with real, sustainable tools. There are no “real” stats on the homelessness crisis in Joburg. The numbers sit anywhere between 8,000 to 30,000, depending on who you ask. But this organisation is physically changing that. They are getting people off the streets. And helping them restart their lives. They aren’t just talking about what they do. They are doing it.
It was at this point that I could start to see what Robbie is creating. The vision. The mission. The action. But this is just the tip of the iceberg. One of the buildings. One of the projects.
Robbie then told me that we had to visit the building across the road. On the way there, he pointed out other buildings. And what was going on behind the facades. Wits Business School is moving in there. All seven storeys. “MIT” is moving in there. Ja, a play on the words of the famous MIT. A school for information and technology. And that building is where the new clinic and pharmacy are going.
This all feels so hopeful. So… not broken.
The Maharishi Invincibility Institute (MII) is where we eventually landed up. A school and university that has around 3,000 students. Kids from the hardest backgrounds. All getting an education thanks to Dr Taddy Blecher.
The MII gets its name from Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, the Indian teacher who founded Transcendental Meditation. The “Maharishi” part is simply a nod to him and the philosophy that inspired the school, while “Invincibility” comes from his idea that education should help people develop such strong inner confidence, clarity of thinking and personal capability that they become “invincible” in life. It’s not about being physically unbeatable, but rather about building the kind of mindset, skills and self-belief that help someone overcome obstacles and succeed. The institute adopted the name because its model blends academic learning with personal development and meditation, with the belief that when students strengthen both their education and their inner resilience, they’re far better equipped to navigate the real world.
We walked through the halls and classrooms. State-of-the-art facilities. Computer labs. And meditation rooms. And classrooms that look like they should be in a private school. There’s even a “tinker room”… a place filled with LEGO and motors, and connections to teach the kids about robotics. Robbie tells me that they are entering the Robotics Olympics this year.
One of the many, many floors is dedicated to “security”. Kids getting the skills to become professional security guards. It’s a three-year course. And all the third-year students have to do “practical”. Most of the security around the area are these kids. Even the person who signed us into the school is part of the programme.
Robbie explained that MII identifies gaps in the employment sector and then provides kids with the education they need to get jobs. They even have contracts with massive corporates to upskill these kids, and then give them guaranteed employment. 95% of their students leave MII and get jobs.
This is goosebump stuff. Life-changing.
Robbie tells me that the kids come from terrible circumstances. But this is giving them an opportunity. It’s hope in action. Before leaving, we walked through a massive quad in the middle of the building. It felt like I was in Stellies. Students sitting around. Chatting. Singing. Eating lunch. Being students.
The quad led to a huge canteen. And behind it, a kitchen that used to feed all the Anglo employees. It’s now the heart of this incredible space.
We chatted with a student from the culinary school, doing their “practical” in the kitchen. Lunch is over. And the kids have all been fed. His smile is contagious. His love for this school is infectious.
He tells us that he is enjoying what he is learning but it’s the sport he loves the most. I would later learn (after meeting Kristen Scott) about Maharishi Park. A modern sports clubhouse and multi-purpose fields for basketball and soccer that work together with MII’s top-tier fitness centre, all designed to support physical well-being, academic success, and personal growth. Kristen tells me most of these kids have only played on dirt fields. Now they get to experience world-class facilities. Changing their “normal”.
“Sport has the power to change the world. It has the power to inspire. It has the power to unite people in a way that little else does.”
Kristen and the team at MII understand this.
Robbie asked the student to call the head chef. Anthony Morris. We waited a minute and a man dressed in his double-breasted chef’s jacket popped out the back. He gave me a hug, then explained that the kitchen feeds all the students. Every day. The passion in his words made me so happy. And so sad. They have a lunch programme. And a breakfast programme. And a dinner programme. They allow the students to bring Tupperware, in case they need to take food home for their families.
I need you to read that again.
Chef Antony tells me that the school holidays are the hardest for him. Because he knows that many of the kids would go hungry. And so would their families.
I was completely overwhelmed.
You see, it’s not just about the food. Or the love that Chef Antony has. Or what the school is doing. Or how this part of the city is coming back to life. Or the fact that there are plans to do more. Or that it is actually happening.
It’s that it is also helping.
Jozi My Jozi’s plan is working. It is changing the inner city.
And that’s when Robbie hugged me.
I get it now my friend. I understand what you have been working on.
Hope… is contagious.
We left the building and walked down Main Street. Passed more buildings with more plans. Passed more people walking around. Carrying their laptops. Drinking their coffees. Chatting to friends and colleagues. Eventually we landed up at Sadie’s Bistro. A beautiful restaurant. In the heart of the city. With tables in the street.
It feels like this little gem should be in Sandton, or the Parks… or even Paris. But here it is, in the middle of Jozi.
The owner, Julian Ribeiro, tells me that he left his very fancy corporate job, went to culinary school and opened Sadie’s Bistro in 2022. He knew that he wanted to open a restaurant. And he knew that he wanted it to be in the middle of the city.
He believes that is how we fix Joburg… by leaning in.
The restaurant, named after his grandmother, who gave him his passion for cooking, sits right next to the old JSE building. Julian took us into the reception where old photos hang on the walls, showing traders “back in the day”. The “Closing Prices” dated the 7th of December 1978 is still there, all written on a massive chalkboard.
Back at the restaurant, there is a buzz. It’s packed. People having meetings. People having lunch. And it was one of the best meals I have ever eaten. We sat chatting about the private tour Robbie just gave me. The insight into how this little part of the city is changing. And how that change is contagious.
When I walked back to my car, I felt less scared. My phone wasn’t as deep in my pocket. I looked around at how life is returning here. At how “not broken” this place is. At how this could possibly be the thing that turns Joburg around.
And yes, it’s just a small part of the city. And it’s absolutely crazy to think that this may be the start of a revolution.
But there is hope here.
And hope… is contagious.
by 
cottled hipsters of the world
THIS IS IT! Helping where each of us is able to – and NO, not the help that makes people dependent, but able to care for themselves and others, the pay it forward kind, with whatever skills and dreams you can imagine for a better world.
Hope is contagious, especially when there are tangible results and progress being made…