South Africanisms: Beauty and the Streets

In Mzansi, corporate success and romantic immunity are not in the same WhatsApp group. You can climb the corporate ladder. Corner office. Seven-figure salary. Gucci. Prada. But none of that protects you at a robot. Because somewhere, in the back of a bakkie that has seen things, sits Bra Sticks.

Reflective vest. Dust on his boots. Confidence fully loaded like a Kentucky box meal.

Then boom, the robot turns red.

You’re in your custom Range Rover, minding your executive business. An entire Spotify Premium subscription, listening to your favourite personal growth podcast. Aircon set on soft life settings.

Then you hear it. “My size! Sweedat!”

He doesn’t know your LinkedIn bio. He doesn’t care about your Investec portfolio. He has assessed the situation and decided: Today is the day. There goes the love of my life.

You look straight ahead. A wink. A hand gesture. Bra Sticks has dololo shares, but he’s ready to share the rest of his life with you.

You think maybe it’s a once-off. Then you see him again at your Corporate Office Park.

He’s on scaffolding, throwing bricks to another guy. Mid-air coordination happening.

Eye contact. Smile. Shot taken. Corporate rank does not intimidate him. Your weave? He believes he can weave himself into your life.

He might be collecting his fortnightly wage in a brown envelope. You might be discussing offshore investments. Balance sheets don’t matter. His job security might be tough, but Ok’salayo Bra sticks will shoot his shot.

In South Africa, confidence is the real currency and Bra Sticks? He has romantic liquidity.

Working your way up the corporate ladder may increase your net worth. But it will never reduce your visibility at a red robot.

Mzansi love, or at least an attempt, doesn’t need FICA verification or a payslip.