“As I walked out the door toward the gate that would lead to my freedom, I knew if I didn’t leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I’d still be in prison.” – Nelson Mandela (1918-2013)

The world mourns the loss of a great human being. But Mandela’s words–and his message–they’re here for good. They have changed our world, and they’ll continue to change the future.

We particularly love this moving speech given after his release from prison.

Image: guardianlv

The post Nelson Mandela, RIP [Video] appeared first on EcoSalon.

Bringing meaning to the joy of eating.

When the “An apple a day keeps the doctor away” proverb is the only adage in your arsenal of food wisdom, it’s time to bulk up on new things to say. From Ireland to China and the likes of Helen Keller to Ronald Reagan, these 20 quotes will bring even more meaning and joy to the act of eating.

When I am eating I am deaf and dumb. –Russia

To eat is human, to digest, divine. –Mark Twain

Life is too short to drink bad wine. –France

Whose bread I eat, his song I sing. –Germany

Too many cooks spoil the broth. –Italy

At the table with good friends and family you do not become old. –Italy

If you can’t feed a hundred people, then just feed one. –Mother Theresa

Fine words do not produce food. –Nigeria

If you are looking for a fly in your food, it means that you are full. –South Africa

Avoid fruits and nuts. You are what you eat. –Jim Davis (Garfield)

Who fasts but does no other good saves his bread but goes to hell. –Italy

There is no sincerer love than the love of food. –Bernard Shaw

He who takes medicine and neglects to diet wastes the skill of his doctors. –China

It is easier to halve the potato when there’s love. –Ireland

A piece of bread in one’s pocket is better than a feather in one’s hat. –Sweden

You can tell a lot about a fellow’s character by his way of eating jelly beans. –Ronald Reagan

Give a man a fish, you have fed him for today. Teach a man to fish, and you have fed him for a lifetime. –China

The good Lord has changed water into wine, so how can drinking beer be a sin? –Belgium

Happiness rarely keeps company with an empty stomach. –Helen Keller

Food tastes best when you eat it with your own spoon. –Denmark

Images: B@ni

Aylin Erman currently resides in Istanbul and is creator of plant-based recipe website GlowKitchen.

Check out our article on 50 pick up lines for foodies

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South African designer Katie Thompson is revolutionizing the way we think about junk.

Katie Thompson of REcreate describes her work as a mish-mash of South African craftsmanship and high-end perfectionist eclecticism. We asked Katie what on earth that meant, and spent some time picking out thirteen of our favorite wares. Here’s what she said, and here’s some junk we could happily REload into our living room.

#1. (Above) A well-traveled suitcase gets REcreated as a chair, upholstered in locally designed and manufactured fabric.

What’s happening now in South African design and how are you deviating from it?

I don’t follow trends that much. I [simply] have a love for junk and creating beautiful, functional things. I think I, unknowingly, started REcreate at just the right time. South African design is now definitely [going] down the green road. For my part, I studied interior design and have always loved broken or discarded things. Recycling followed.

#2. Old broken kitchen scales REinvented as clocks.

Where do you find your materials?  

Everywhere! People are constantly throwing things away.

#3. Give a golf club, oar, or paddle a little REnewal on life as a towel rack.

Like outdated sports equipment! You have an eye for vintage rackets. Are they yours?

I’m rather lazy when it comes to sporty activities! I have no interest in athletics other than liking the shapes, textures and colors of discarded sports equipment. I am not sure whether it is typically South African, but we do have a lot of sports equipment [lying around]. I’m currently making a young boy a custom made bedside lamp from an old rugby ball. So there must be something typically South African about [our love of sports]!

#4. An old school racket press is REpurposed to store photos both old and new.

Your junk does not come cheap. Who typically buys your work?

Our work appeals to all genders, nationalities, races, and ages. However, as I am a perfectionist and I want the REcreate brand to represent perfectly finished, repurposed products, not everyone is always able to afford the REcreate quality. We do a lot of custom work, whereby customers can supply their own “junk” to be custom made into something functional.

#5. An Imperial typewriter REfashioned into a working desk lamp.

Are you an environmentalist, or simply an upcycler? 

I am not an environmentalist at all. The terminology even confuses me! REcreate did not even start because of the environment. I only learned what Repurposing was a year after I had started REcreate. I thought we were recycling and didn’t know the difference. Of course, now that I have a clearer understanding of the positive effects of what we are doing, it has snowballed. We reuse everything now before recycling!

#6. A mismatched tea set impaled upon a lamp. What a clever and REvisionary mad-hatter?

#7. A vintage hatbox REcreated as an ottoman stool with storage.

#8. An empty bottle of Irish whiskey REborn as a sobering table lamp.

#9. An old (and mysterious) box is REfilled with natural canvas and transformed into furniture.

#10. An injured chair gets REfitted with Perspex.

#11. A sturdy frame REupholstered with roses.

#12. Herbs REplanted in abandoned tea cups.

#13. Antiseptic REinvestigated as a desk lamp.

The post 13 Creative Ways to REpurpose Your Home appeared first on EcoSalon.

Driving east beyond the Cape of Good Hope and the true terminus of Africa, Cape Agulhas, where the convergence of the Indian and The Atlantic Ocean dance to support untold stories of life and struggle in the ocean – the land of South Africa opens up. For the wild beasts of the continent, roads represent interruptions in natural corridors, obstacles that herd, and grazing animals must transect in order to get to ungrazed lands, water, and mating grounds. The result is a smattering of civilization and wilderness in conflict at times, and wildlife management replaces the natural order.

Now, it is the dry season, and at this time, the few watering holes represent the gathering points for species in the wild. Here there are elephants, hippos, hyena, rhino, zebra, lion, gazelle, cheetah; all the usual suspects that remind me of my youth spent staring at the Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom show on TV. A lot has changed since then.

Throughout the countryside, there are game reserves and game parks, the former, similar to national parks in the United States. In national reserves, there is no take, but in other places massive swatches of land are bought up to create the appearance of the wild, where hunters will come to track and kill large game. These areas are all fenced in with electric wire to keep the prized beasts from moving out. European, Arab, and American hunters alike will pay top dollar to kill large beasts. I’m told it costs up to 30k U.S to shoot an elephant. Lions can fetch up to 50k. Animals are specifically bred for this purpose and roam on massive hunting parks where hunters can hire a guide to track animals the old way, and claim their prize with a gun. Exporting of the tusks and such is difficult in the United States but I was told by a taxidermist in Namibia that other than the U.S, taking prizes home from these beasts is not as difficult.

In the Northwest of South Africa, Kruger National Park – the most healthy environment and one private game park, where no hunting is allowed – has emerged as model for restoring things to their natural populations. The place is called, Londolozi, started by the Varty family and is perhaps the most exclusive safari spot in this region. Dave Varty wrote an incredible book about the project entitled The Full Circle. Celebrities visit it often, and accommodation costs 1k per person per day. It is so wild that guests are escorted from their rooms to the dining area, as it’s far too dangerous even amongst the hotel buildings to wander the grounds, especially at night.

For the animals that populate the area, the natural order reigns, and the cruelty of nature is law. The game rangers are selected in Top Gun fashion and undergo a series of very rigorous and dangerous tests to be hired. The park is massive and a prospective ranger is asked to transect it with only a knife – and stay alive amidst some of the biggest predators known to man. If confronted by a lion, the ranger must hold his ground, staring the lion down. I’m told that the lion will often charge and stop, testing the ranger, sometimes up to three times. If it happens a fourth, typically the man is doomed. Another test is meant to teach the ranger the true difficulty of being a predator in the wild. Killing one’s food is one thing, but eating it is another. Many animals will compete for a hunter’s kill, and protecting one’s meal means surviving to the next one. To pass the test, a ranger is given a rifle with three bullets and is asked to hunt and kill an Impala, at least 1.5 kilometers from camp, gut it, and carry it back on his shoulders fending off any competitors. Killing an Impala farther away means more distance to cover. And the smell of fresh kills excites predators for miles upon miles. Night or day, the ranger must return and I was told of one story where a ranger, covered in the animals blood, successfully fended off a pack of Hyena tracking him.

On more of a budget, I traveled to Addo National Elephant Reserve, and took a driving tour with a guide. The herd was over 400 and the reserve was set up to protect the animals from poachers. Elephants were everywhere and would often walk with in feet of our vehicle moving to the next food source – in English, my guide referred to the tree as the Bacon Tree (which to me sounds magical) and told me that elephants can feed up to 22 hours a day in order to survive.

Leaving Africa means another month at sea for me, back to the plastic pollution work and a constant life of discovery. Blessed.

Editor’s Note: This is part 11 in a special series. Voyage with Stiv and catch the exclusive each week here at EcoSalon during his months-long journey into the heart of the South Atlantic Gyre and beyond.

Image: flowcomm, Sara&Joachim

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The rains coming in mean bad news. In Gugulethu, the shanties here are on dirt and when the water comes, this equals mud. But even though the rain has poured during what is typically the dry season, people are out and about preparing for the Christmas tradition. Here, there are no gifts. No decorations. No blinking lights or packed car parks. The “better off” people of this area are buying live chickens and preparing Christmas meals. What characterizes the holiday is open doors and closed doors. A closed door means you have nothing to offer in the way of food to passersby. An open door means anyone can come in for a snack. Children roam the dirt and mud corridors, going from door to door, stuffing their faces with good eats. When they get full, they put food in their bags and carry on. It’s like a like a savory U.S. Halloween with no ghosts.

This was how Laura, our guide described Christmas tradition. But as we drove with her, the meta-stories turned more personal. Though she’s what anyone would call a survivor – educated, powerful and kind – she’s had a tough year. Many in her family have died from all sorts of ailments and she’s been looking after a ten-year-old girl with HIV whose parents passed away earlier in the year. The child doesn’t know she has HIV and her parents made Laura promise she would not tell her. The girl takes anti-retro viral drugs but is told that the drugs are for asthma. What concerns Laura is that the girl is looking to start drinking and when drinking happens with women, it means sex. Yes, we’re talking about a ten-year-old girl. Many are mothers by 13 and 14, and eager boys will use inebriation to initiate sex with their young counterparts. Laura is concerned about the HIV and doesn’t know what to do. She’s concerned about the girl drinking and having sex too, but much is out of her power. Drugs and alcohol are big problems in the slums.

The men are the ones who typically drink. They brew a crude beer there and spend the days drinking it. With so much unemployment, there is little else to do. Meth is an issue and so is something new: Smoking anti retro viral drugs. The HIV medication is so plentiful and cheap here that apparently one can smoke it and get a crack-like high. The come down, I’m told, is extremely painful and thus the drugs used this way are highly, highly addictive. But again, Laura invites to look at the good things we see – the children laughing, the young girl playing a game called Puca which involved drawing a circle and placing stones inside it. The goal is to throw one stone in the air and remove one from the circle before the stone is then caught with the same hand. Once all stones are out of the circle, they replaced in the same but opposite fashion. If successful without dropping the thrown stone, the player wins. Imagination holds children’s minds here – there are almost no books (the pages of books are often used as toilet paper), and definitely no soccer fields. The family dwellings are squatted illegally, but no one kicks anyone out. There is nowhere for them to go. Power is supplied but there is no plumbing. Several families share what amounts to a stone outhouse with a bucket. Once a week, if they are lucky, a service comes round and empties the bucket. With the sun beating during our visit, the evidence of too many people sharing the same bathroom lingers thick in the air.

On the outskirts of Gugulethu, just before a Muslim camp, we come across a circumcision shanty situated between the freeway and the off ramp. When boys are 18 they are sent here to be circumcised without anesthesia as part of a ritual into manhood. The shanty amounts to what look like several igloo shapes, only made of old tarps and plastic bags. They are hot and dirty and unsanitary. Laura explains that many boys get infections from the procedure.

But there are no hospitals. Well, there are, kind of, but ordinary people can’t walk into them and be treated. One hospital serves two million on the outskirts of Cape Town and I’m told that people fear it as it is a place where you go to die. There has been some aid from Doctors Without Borders, but two million people is a lot. Much of the resources that would go to help people here are cutoff by corruption in government. Corruption happens at a very low level and as soon as someone gains a bit of power, he looks to siphon money from aid. There are crackdowns occasionally, but officials are rarely, if ever, prosecuted.

As Laura drives us back into the colored and white part of Cape Town, we see the hustle and bustle of holiday shopping by those who can afford to do it. We’re getting dropped off at The Two Oceans Aquarium and I’m talking about the work on pollution that 5 Gyres does; we have a display we have at the aquarium. Laura mentions that she’s never been to an aquarium. When she says this, I can’t believe it. She’s educated, she’s a home owner, she makes a living. But the stigma things such as aquariums being for people other than her is pervasive. I tell Laura to park the car and come in with me. She’s like a child in a candy store looking at the sharks. She’s amazed. She’s heard about these creatures but has never seen them. We are together and still worlds apart.

Merry Christmas Laura. You’re an inspiration to the world you serve. And beyond.

Editor’s Note: This is part 9 in a special series. Voyage with Stiv and catch the exclusive each week here at EcoSalon during his months-long journey into the heart of the South Atlantic Gyre and beyond.

Images: Stiv Wilson

The post Christmas in the Slums of Gugulethu: Part 2 appeared first on EcoSalon.

I travel the world looking at garbage. Plastic garbage. This is my job. Our NGO quantifies plastic density in the oceanic gyres, but because all would-be plastic patches are land born, we study garbage wherever we can. When I arrive in a new country, I’m keen to investigate waste management infrastructure because I believe, as does our organization, that pollution is a symptom of poverty and poverty is a symptom of pollution. Environmental catastrophes are created by humans and require solutions that have a positive effect on human quality of life. This is my mantra.

Cape Town is an extremely diverse and complex city. Eleven different languages are spoken in South Africa, and the population is composed of African blacks, whites and “colored.” Colored has a different meaning here – it denotes being of non African descent and of mixed race. It’s not derogatory. Coloreds speak Afrikaans and English as do Whites – for the most part. Blacks speak several languages including Xhosa, the language of Nelson Mandela and this the language we hear in the slum villages. But language can change from block to block at times. Many of the the coloreds are of Malaysian slave descent and comprise the Muslim community and some of their communities are within a stones throw of the shanty towns, though the two cultures rarely, if ever, mix in the townships. Affluent blacks, whites and coloreds do mix in the higher income parts of the city, as well as in the workplace and in politics.

What characterizes any metropolis in South Africa is this shantytown slum situation on the outskirts of the city. It’s quite possible to go from Dolce and Gabbana to abject dirt floor subsistence squatting in tin shacks within a five minute drive. America is very good at making poverty invisible, but here, squatter villages line the highways and are the first thing a traveler is confronted with driving from the airport into the city.

Cape Town in general has security issues – mainly theft rather than violent crime (but confrontational robberies are not uncommon) which is to be expected when have nots live close to haves. As a white person, it is unwise to go into the shanties without a guide. But I was not content to see these places from locked car doors at fifty miles an hour.

Laura the Amazing.

We met Laura outside of a ritzy shopping center in the money part of Cape Town. She grew up in the townships (slums) and was lucky enough to get a scholarship for a university education. Laura has been guiding for over a decade. Her presence commands respect and she has an exceptional power and charm that exudes from her being. For 350 rand, about $50 US, she agreed to show us around the townships. This is how she makes a living. And some of the money goes to support a breakfast program she runs out of her house to feed children before school. No school means no free breakfast and the incentive is enough get kids motivated. As she sees it, the only way to break the cycle of AIDS and poverty is through education – 60 percent of blacks are unemployed and there are 9 million people that have HIV (that have been tested) in South Africa – that’s about 1 in 5.

At first, Laura was trying to figure out what we could handle. We explained that we worked for an NGO on pollution issues and said that we didn’t want the sanitized tour. As I sat in the front seat of her white Mercedes driving north, she started explaining all that we would see. Her knowledge of her country, it’s complexities, issues and histories were out of this world. School was in session as I feverishly took notes on my iPhone as we drove.

Langa was our first township. We entered a typical apartment shared by three families. Three twin beds in a single room, windows without glass, exposed wires and heaps of garbage outside. Residents here pay 20 rand a month (about three dollars) to rent these places. Everything is dirty but the tap water is clean. Though meager, an exceptional amount of care is taken in the dwellings. Beds are made and the floor is swept. But the close quarters make for hard relations – sex for example – sex is something that often occurs in front of children, or as Laura describes it, “they are witness to deeds that exceed their tender years.” Typical motherhood occurs at 14-16. HIV is a major problem and as Laura says, “We bury 100 people every Saturday.” But she’s quick to say it’s not all doom and gloom. Twenty years ago the beating of women and child molestation were common practices. But now, there are legal consequences for such actions, an improvement made from having women in political power. Still, the poverty is pervasive and most here subsist on 500 rands a month ($70) or less. In order to be considered a “worker” by a bank, a family must make ten times that a month. Then, credit and things such as a mortgage becomes possible. For most families here, this not an achievable goal any time soon. But what’s dominant here, beyond the plastic garbage and dirt, are the smiles of children – something that is beautiful anywhere in the world.

Part Two – Christmas in a squatter’s camp.

Editor’s Note: This is part 8 in a special series. Voyage with Stiv and catch the exclusive each week here at EcoSalon during his months-long journey into the heart of the South Atlantic Gyre and beyond.

Images: Stiv Wilson

The post The Slums of Cape Town: Part 1 appeared first on EcoSalon.

After a journey that was punctuated by storms and unfavorable wind directions, the 5 Gyres crew arrived in Cape Town, South Africa. 31 days, 4100 nautical miles and plastic all the way.

But I am proud. No one has ever explored the South Atlantic Gyre for plastic pollution before. We never batted an eye at the cost incurred when sailing 13 people across an ocean. We believed, we found the resources, we executed. We made it. 67 samples taken every 60 nautical miles all positive for what has become the vomit of land upon our blue planet: plastic. It is of course a bittersweet accomplishment. Acrid because we found what we anticipated what would be there, sweet because we have the data to prove it. We have the assets now to show the world that this human born problem is global. It is an issue that not only affects the environment, but also the quality and standard of living for all beings on earth.

Driving north of Cape Town, we see the residue of apartheid, the slums of Langa and Gugulethu. There it is again, strewn on razor wire, crammed between the corrugated tin shanties, piled and discarded, the ubiquitous calling card of convenience: plastic. It is the alpha land of the sea’s omega. Full circle.

Land ho. Security is ever present in Cape Town, especially in places like ritzy harbors. The approach was hairy: fog, darkness and 50 ships all converging for safe haven on the Cape Of Good Hope. My first walk on land in 31 days was difficult. After so much time at sea the leg muscles tend to atrophy a bit. I couldn’t walk straight. We arrived late – just after 2 a.m. local time trumpeted only by the bark of resident fur seals. But attempting to stroll, wanting for the smell of green flora, I was approached by security. From all appearances, my gait was that of a drunk. Attempting to explain my extreme sobriety of a month without alcohol was fruitless. I was raw, dirty with an unkempt beard – hell I hadn’t worn shoes in twenty days! I was asked to return to my ship. Politics, civil code – land life all set in. I had arrived.

We are docked in front if the Two Oceans Aquarium where we’ve held press events and public education forums. Here we have a bit of celebrity. It’s exciting. I like that the 5 gyres directors are the front (wo)men. I do not like the camera from the other side, but I do like documenting worthy people. My role is perfect here – all I want in my heart is for everyone to see and feel what I saw. Understand the complexity and scale of the issue. The speed by which it worsens. The horror that it wreaks. But also the hope I carry that the problem can and will be solved. It may not be solved by us, but we are laying a foundation that will empower this and the next generation. Life feels good when you think these kinds of things.

And life feels better when you remember why you fight. About a week before we landed, we cruised with a Minke Whale. She found our ship and swam along side, not more than 200 feet from us, breaching and sailing along with us at the same speed. She must have been with us for a half hour at least. Dolphins encounters bring glee to the crew, whales bring ecstasy. Joy.

A Minke is a Baleen whale which means it filters water for food constantly with its mouth. The device by which we scour the ocean for plastic is 25 by 60 centimeters wide, deployed for an hour over about one nautical mile. And every time we have a handful of plastic. Now take a 35 foot whale’s mouth sifting like we are but always, always, always. There is evil math in that. Ugly math.

But though the equation gives us pause, the Minke’s inspire us to keep sailing and attempt to help give the earth back what she deserves: dignity.

Editor’s Note: This is part 7 in a special series. Voyage with Stiv and catch the exclusive each week here at EcoSalon during his month-long journey into the heart of the South Atlantic Gyre.

Images: Stiv Wilson

The post Arrival In Cape Town appeared first on EcoSalon.

Genius. Pure, simple, and genius. Haldane Martin has spread his creative genius all over his Cape Town, South Africa home. The foundation of Haldane’s alluring interiors is soft neutral color, using white and/or light grey paint to coat his walls, floors, and ceilings. Bold, vivid colors infuse pure drama into select vignettes; saturated colors directly adjacent to pristine white floors. Well done, Haldane. Well done.

The contrast of sleek, smooth wood lounging below feathery globes of light is almost as delightful as the tension of soalid shapes of considerable mass balancing on delicate spindles. The minimalism is beautifully accented by individually curated loveliness. Each piece has character and charisma.

Mr. Martin is an acclaimed furniture designer, which means you can spread a bit of his genius inside your own walls, too. If you need a little additional inspiration, even the words at Martin’s namesake company are alluring, “Haldane Martin offers a sense of belonging to our world and the spirit of the times, by creating contemporary furniture that integrates, man, nature, culture and technology, with the human qualities of wisdom, love, and beauty.” Plus, Martin has a manifesto – devour it (as you know, I love a great manifesto).

(This stunning home tour was spotted at Apartment Therapy, contributed by Liezel Strauss. Images via Apartment Therapy.)

The post South African Allure appeared first on EcoSalon.

Lutz and Patmos (Tina Lutz and Marcia Patmos) are best known for their luxurious fabrics and forward design, collaborations, and working with guest designers like Kirsten Dunst, Sofia Coppola and their newest guest, Archbishop Desmond Tutu.

The Nobel peace Laureate and activist worked with Lutz and Patmos to design an organic cotton sweater and textile fabulous beaded necklace so that a portion all the proceeds could go towards the Desmond Tutu Peace Center (founded in 1998). The DTPC was created to deliver programs that promote conflict resolution and social justice to the marginalized people of South Africa.

For the Lutz and Patmos/Desmond Tutu collaboration, the two also reached out to South Africa’s Hillcrest Aids Center Trust (HACT), which works with local beading artists who are suffering or affected with AIDS, to create the necklace that comes with every “Tutu Sweater.”

Lutz and Patmos were introduced to HACT by artist, filmmaker and Reap What You Sew founder, Nicole Mackinlay Hahn, who had visited HACT and created a video about her experience.

Famous for her “fly on the wall” approach that “brings the voice and humanity of her subjects into sharper focus,” she just happened to shoot this video about a now deceased man from HACT named Sphiwe Dennis Madlala, who was a vital part of the thriving community.

“One year ago, I got an email from Tina Lutz of Lutz & Patmos. Tina was inquiring about apparel production in Africa. I was thrilled to hear that their new guest designer was to be Archbishop Desmond Tutu! I already knew Lutz & Patmos had been dedicating at least one style per season to a charity, and since this project would benefit the Desmond Tutu Peace Center in Cape Town, I shared all my South African contacts.

With a mission statement of ’empowering and uplifting people infected with and affected by HIV/AIDS to become economically self-sufficient through the production of crafts within their own environment,’ I remembered that I had briefly filmed at Hillcrest – maybe an hour or two at the most. To my surprise, I did not have much craft footage, and here is why:

In 2007 I spent two months in Africa gathering anecdotes for my Mirror/Africa project. After a busy month in Madagascar, I had only one day free before moving on to Lesotho, so I decided to fly into Durban to visit the Hillcrest AIDS Center. My friend Tamsin Smith – the founding president of (RED) and long-time advocate of trade ties with Africa – tipped me off to the amazing women beaders and quilters there. I had expected to be moved by mission of this faith based group, but hadn’t expected them to be creating such original and stylish works of art. I think that I shopped more than I filmed that day. But I did document some treasures. I came across a man in the Hillcrest garden, who was planting & potting with great care. He looked like a potential draft for the NBA. However his uniform was a Hillcrest apron and his title was “Horticulturist.” He was very much more than that and his name was Sphiwe. Below is a memoir of this man, given by his twin brother.”

About Sphiwe Dennis Madlala – by Mandla Madlala (Sphiwe’s twin brother):

He was born in December 22, 1978 in Pietermaritzburg in KwaZulu-Natal and he moved out of Pietermaritzburg to Molweni in 1990 and he died in Molweni. He passed away September 30, 2007, it was on Sunday. He was 32-years-old when he passed away. He had one child before passing away. He liked gospel and R&B. There is a lot of things that Sphiwe did before he died. He started to play soccer for Leken Stars, Swallows, then he moved to Brazil F.C. to play as a striker and the goalkeeper. After two years, Sphiwe became a coach for Brazil F.C., and he liked soccer same as me. He was a good coach for Brazil F.C. He looked after the club and he was a good communicator with the players, and he was also one of the managers of the team. I remember a lot of things that Sphiwe did at that time. The club was playing in West zone league and the club became position 3. When Sphiwe died the club was also finished at that time.

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