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Lesedi: Hey, just letting you know this story mentions suicidal thoughts, so please take care as you listen.
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Lesedi: Hi, I am Lesedi Mogoatlhe. This is Radio Workshop. Youth Unemployment in South Africa is among the highest in the world. And 23-year-old reporter Kabir Jugram says young men like himself are feeling the pressure. Kabir says, this is how it plays out. You finish high school, then if you are lucky, you get through university, but then there are no jobs. So you hustle to make whatever money you can to support yourself, and in some cases your entire family. But even harder than this, is feeling that you just can’t ask for any help. When young men struggle to hold it all together, they’re told to man up and make a plan. So they learn at an early age that they can’t share their feelings and they’re on their own.
Lesedi: Here’s more from Kabir.
Kabir: Hey, I’m Kabir Jugram. I’m 23 years old and I live in Johannesburg or Jozi, the city of gold. Home to more dollar millionaires than anywhere else in Africa. And this is where young men from all over Africa chase dreams as jagged as the city’s streets. My dad runs a pharmacy in the heart of this chaos in a part of the city called Hillbrow.
And it’s funny, Hillbrow used to be prime real estate. They called it the Manhattan of Africa back in the day. But the Hillbrow that I know is everything people fear about Jozi. It’s overcrowded, violent, and there’s dealers lurking on every other street corner. As a kid, my dad would take me with him to work on weekends.
He had one rule though. I had to go home before it got dark. And one day my dad came home and his jacket was soaked with blood. I couldn’t tell whose blood it was ’cause he didn’t seem to be injured. All he said was that someone tried to rob him and that the guy would’ve shot his head clean off. But the trigger jammed.
I poured him a glass of coke and he sank into the couch in front of the tv, but he just sat there still with the glass in his hand. It was like his eyes looked somewhere past the tv. It was kind of like he was lost. The next day, he opened and closed the shop at the same time, like nothing happened.
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Kabir: But let’s be real. Most men don’t speak about pain. They carry it like a secret. And I do the same thing. I go through all these crazy things, grief, shame, hurt, and I never share any of it with anybody because none of us do. But something happened earlier this year and has been sitting heavy on my mind. It was around midnight and my friend Shacky called, and he didn’t sound like his usual, upbeat, motivational speaker type of self. He said he was sitting in his car at a park, alone and that he wanted to end it all. And that’s how I found myself speeding down the highway late at night, hoping to arrive before Shacky did something stupid. That moment changed me. It changed our whole friendship, yet we never talked about it.
But how do you just keep quiet after something like that? And it made me wonder, do I? Really know who Shacky is.
Shacky: So my name, government name, Mishak Davies Piri. Um, but a lot of my friends call me Shacky. Yeah, I’m 26. What else can I say about myself?
Kabir: That’s my boy Shacky. Like me, he was raised in the badness of Jozi, and he talks a lot like lowkey like he’s afraid of silence. Shacky is a born hustler, and at the moment, he’s making his money as an Uber driver.
He lives just northeast of the city center in a suburb called Orange Grove, and he stays there in the house with his three brothers and their two dogs.
Shacky: Oh, okay. So this is Mulan. Um, Mulan was a stray and she was a very small pup, you know, so we’re like, Hey, man. So we just took her literally and raised her.
Kabir: Shacky uses his Uber money to take care of the house and the dogs. Mulan and Zeus, and also his two younger brothers, Wandile and Gustavo. Gustavo’s 22 and his room looks like a scene from the movie. A Beautiful mind. You know what I’m talking about? Walls scribble with formulas and equations. He taught himself to code and he swears that he’s gonna use it to get rich off of online trading.
Kabir: Is this all like trading stuff?
Shacky: Yeah. Yeah.
Kabir: Dang. For real, bro.
Kabir: In the cottage outside, there’s Wandile, the baby of the family. He’s in high school, 15, doing grade nine right now. And he’s talkative. Just like Shacky.
Wandile: He’s actually a great brother, you know, he’s very supportive and he really thinks about us a lot.
Wandile: ’cause like I needed a phone and then he actually got me one so that I could like do my homework, communicate with the rest, you know, if I’m in need of something.
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Kabir: Shacky’s parents don’t live with them in the house. They moved to Malawi in 2019 when the money dried up in SA. And then now, they’re citizens in both countries and they thought they’d have better luck in Malawi. Shacky’s older brother Nomis was the first to run the household when the parents left, but he burnt out, so now it’s Shacky’s turn.
Back in the day when his parents were still in South Africa, they lived in an apartment in Hillbrow, actually not far from my dad’s shop. And this is where Shacky was born. He says that when he was a kid, his parents were busy all of the time, so he was basically raised by the tv.
Shacky: So I can say that, yeah, that with the movies and all of that, that influenced me greatly in terms of like what a family’s supposed to be like…
Kabir: but the reality was very different. Shacky’s parents were not like those parents in the movies.
Shacky: I remember the first time I said, I love you to, my parents they were Shocked bro. Like, they didn’t know what to do, bro. They were like, whoa. They looked at me, they looked at each other, and then they, they kind of laughed, you know?
And then it was like an embarrassed thing, where they were like, yeah, just go to your room, bro. You know? And then later my mom called me as like, don’t worry about it. Like, we love you too.
Kabir: Shacky says his parents had no time for emotions. They were too busy working and at some point it felt like the family could even live that soft life. Shacky’s dad was an electrician, and when Shacky was about 14, his dad got a promotion. That’s when they left their flat in hillbrow for the house in the suburbs.
Shacky: Yeah, man,
Kabir: and that’s where Shacky’s at right now.
Shacky: I’d like to look at this house also like a canvas, you know, because in a lot of people’s minds, especially my brothers and I… we saw it turn from, you know, what my mom’s ideal look of the house, or as to now these broken windows and all of that, you know. Um,
Kabir: Pretty soon after the family moved into the house, things started to go downhill. Like real quick, a year after moving in, Shacky’s dad lost his job. Suddenly there was no money coming in. So Shacky’s dad built up the garage to rent out a room, but it wasn’t enough to pay the bills. Eventually, the electricity got cut off. That’s when his parents figured they’d go to Malawi and try change their luck.
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But the thing is they never came back. It’s been six or seven years since they left that big house in the leafy suburbs for Shacky and his bros. But right now it feels more like a burden than a blessing.
Shacky: We had to understand that no matter how many times you say eo, there’s no food eo, there’s nothing. They’d be like, uh, okay, we’ll send something soon, but like.
One year passes by. We had to understand that, hey, we literally on our own right now. You get what I’m trying to say? Like we can’t depend on them.
Kabir: I met Shacky when he was 20. I was around 17 at the time. I just started hanging out with a bunch of these gents from my high school, and they called themselves 12 dogs. They were this hip hop group and they had no plan, no studio, none of that fancy shit, man. Just the guitar covered in stickers, a laptop and a mic in a homie’s cottage. And I was lowkey excited to have a space where I could bring my writing to life.
One day I came to record and Shacky was just there yapping and cracking jokes. And while I sat in a corner writing a verse, he was outside the cottage with a bunch of the gents. He was passing a joint one way. He bit a fat chunk out of a mango and he passed it the other way. And I was there thinking, what is this gent even doing here?
Then he stepped to the mic with mango juice stains on his hand. Suddenly these sweet, sentimental type of words started flowing from him. And somehow they just fit perfectly with the kind of music we made. And he Low-key, agreed.
Shacky: I was like, Yea. Yeah, yea. Yeah. You know, finally, there’s some people who are doing music out there, you know, who are on that level that I’m like, yeah, you see now, now I can work with someone.
Now we can make something beautiful. You know? And from there, that’s when everything really started for me, music-wise.
Kabir: But it wasn’t just about music. We spent hours with our friend Lucas, smoking weed, talking shit. Watching that Jozi Skyline fade away from the stoop. And Shacky always told these crazy stories about growing up.
He had low-key, seen more of life by 20 than most adults ever will. We actually shared a lot of Shacky and I.
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Shacky: That was my time. You know, when I was introduced to what I refer to as a family. That was my time where I was introduced to people who would actually care about where I am at, how I’m doing, how I’m feeling, you know,
Kabir: And it was like this for about five years, all of us gents are like brothers. Then one day I woke up to a flood of messages on the group chat. Everyone’s talking about Shacky, something about an Instagram story. I opened my ig. And I can’t believe this shit. Shacky is talking shit about us. Saying something like we aren’t good friends to him.
We tried to hit him up, but he refused to take our calls and so we figured aiit, it is calm we’ll let him do his thing. He was done with us, I guess, done with his old way of living.
He was completely MIA for about a year and then he calls on a random Thursday. I’m with the boys and we’re loitering outside this depressingly empty bar. And we’re trying to laugh at how badly we bombed at this open mic night. Shacky first calls our friend Lucas from an unknown number, but the call doesn’t last long, and when Lucas comes back, he’s shook. He tells us that Shacky’s sitting in Da Gama park and he wants to take his life.
So we jump in the car, and boy, I fly down the M1. We don’t care about no speeding fines at this point ’cause Shacky is the only thing on our minds. Simon’s there in the passenger seat saying some bullshit to me, but I cannot hear him. I’m just there speeding, hoping that I get to Shacky in time. When we arrive at the park, we find him sitting in his car in the darkness.
He’s holding his head in his left hand and his phone in the right. His mom’s on speaker, quoting Bible verses to him, something about resisting the devil’s invite, but he just sits there motionless and unresponsive to her preachings.
Shacky: It was the first time like she experienced me in a mess. ’cause she was always like, yeah, this guy is the guy who’s numb. Literally. Right. You know, is the guy who doesn’t give a shit. Like, ’cause she was even like, bro, if you break down then you understand like, your bros are gone bro. You know? And she was more worried about like, yo, bro, you have to stand up.
Kabir: Shacky’s mom hung up when we told her we were there. We sat with him for almost an hour and we basically said nothing because sometimes there’s just nothing you can say. Nothing about the year gone by or how we got there. And when Shacky finally spoke, he said, yo, I almost let the devil in. I saw Shacky cry for the first time that night, and I saw him like really saw him.
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We drove him back to Lucas’s house and sat on the same stoop we always did. And we did what we always did, laugh, smoke, and stare out at that Jozi skyline. And the next day everything was just back to normal. Just like when my dad opened shop after his incident. Damn, just another day in the J we like to say.
Kabir: But that night with Shacky was not just another night, and I couldn’t just let it become that. So I finally asked Shacky dog, what really happened that night?
Shacky: You know? Then I drove up the hill, you check where to De Gama and that’s when like everything just started pouring. You know, rain was pouring.
Kabir: Here’s what he told me.
You know, in that whole year where Shacky was ghost, his life got really tough. He had to get real serious about making money. And he felt that he could only do that alone. No distractions, no time to kick it with the homies, no making music. For him, hustling, looked like the only solution to his problems.
He started a solar panel business with a friend and for a while, business was booming. Shacky and his brothers even moved into a new house and they were living that high life. They were even eating takeout now. Even the parents were eating ’cause they could rent out the old family home. And for the first time in years, it seemed like Shacky sacrifices were paying off.
But just six months in, it all came crashing down. The business tanked and Shacky says he didn’t like who he was becoming.
Shacky: I feel like I was becoming a person that I didn’t want the person that I literally swore down to never be like, and that’s when everything dawned on me, bro. I was like, yo, I’m, I’m literally being this guy,
Kabir: The kind of guy who borrows money and never pays it back. The kind who lies, not just to others, but to himself. Anything to avoid going back to the bottom. But that’s exactly where he went. He moved back into his parents’ house and it was a mess. There was no electricity. The city threatened to cut the water. Shacky’s parents were massively behind on mortgage payments.
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Kabir: And then the bank came calling. They were gonna take the house.
Shacky: That was my first, first ever like mental breakdown, like heavy way. Now it’s like, yo Shacky, bro, you tried your best neh, but here. It’s bigger than you boy. Bigger than me. I feel like when you in that state, you understand like that mindset, you know, like you can’t, you in control, but your emotions are just so heavy, bro, that all you can see is like the blurred darkness.
Kabir: I hear the boy and I feel for Shacky. I really wish that I knew, but I noticed that he’s becoming so much more open about his struggles. He’s no longer just this shit talking hustler that I knew before. He’s the same sweet, sentimental guy I met when we first made music. And I know that he’s healing ’cause he’s making music again,
Shacky(singing): my baby. You so fly
Shacky: Mind you, we can’t afford a therapist. You know, we can’t afford counseling or whatever. We just can’t even afford another day or another week unless we, you know, grind. But my point is, um, poetry and music just helps me deal with all of that. So it’s like slow it down. Let it out through the music, listen to the music, understand it, deal with it. You know,
Kabir: I pull up at least once a week now to check on him. And these visits have become like a ritual for us because it’s a way to keep each other going. I’m sitting on Shacky’s balcony, balcony. He’s telling me stories about the home he’s soon gonna say goodbye to.
Shacky: Um, this is where I think more than six, seven years ago. We used to like have dinners and brai’s until everything just once left. Unfortunately, can’t see the view, ’cause the tree’s blocking it there, but that’s the Santon view, you know, a million dollar view.
Kabir: Shacky is still figuring it out, but his suffering’s now out in the open, and funny enough, I don’t see him as any weaker for it. I just see him, and then when you ask about my pain, all of a sudden I feel ashamed. Maybe I’m scared of stepping outta my shell. Like if I show what’s going on inside me, I’ll be exposed and crushed. Because that part of me is just not the same as the man outside. And then I remember how brave he’s been sharing all he did with me. So I figure it’s only right. I keep it real with him.
Kabir: You know, it’s funny ’cause um, I get depressed like a lot. Like I was, I think most of my days of the week I’m depressed for some reason. I don’t understand why.
Shacky: Like dash in dash out.
Kabir: Yeah, exactly. You know, I get it. It’s like uncontrollable to me.
Shacky: Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Kabir: But it’s like. I don’t know, like now with all these conversations that happened and the fact that, you know, we actually now it’s like that space has always been there, but now I realize that space is there. Yeah. And it’s kind of like I’m okay and I’m not, it’s not so scary living with the fact that I’m always depressed, ’cause actually not, there’s not something wrong with me.
Shacky: There’s nothing wrong, bro.
Kabir: There’s nothing wrong, bro. Nothing to be ashamed of. I didn’t even know that I needed to hear that. See, I was raised to believe that silence makes you strong, but there’s so much freedom in being real. Two weeks ago, Shacky told me to pull up to the studio, same spot, same mic as back in the day, and he wanted me to hop on this new track he was working on. The beat dropped. It was this trippy, wavy kind of vibe. The windows were rattling, and I stood there trying to catch the bounce. And Shacky was pressing me to record, but I just couldn’t find the words. I was stuck and overthinking, so Shacky. Stepped in. He started playing with flows, fearless, genuine, and free.
Always finding the words when I can’t, and here’s what he came up with that day.
Shacky(singing): Ship to Cape Town feeling lonely, see my shawty fin the sound. she be quiet she be cozy. She trying to turn it to my spouse, pretty face, booty bad, the cutie, ey. crazy a she from the song.
Lesedi: This story was produced by Kabir Jugram. With help from Naomi Grewan. A big thanks to Shacky Mufasa for sharing his story with us. This episode was edited by me Lesedi Mogoatlhe and Naomi Grewan, with assistance from Sarah Kate Kramer. Original music by Qhamani Sambo at Edible Audio in Cape Town.
Additional music from Shacky Mufasa, and Lukas Van Garderen. Sound Engineering by Jo Jackson and Mike Rahfaldt. Jo Jackson is our managing producer. Mike Rahfaldt is our executive producer. Vuyo Lutseke is our executive director. Thank you to audio militia for the studio recording. And to Viki Merrick for the voice coaching. This episode and the work of Radio Workshop would not be possible without the support of Luminate, the Child Mind Institute, the Shin Creek Trust.
The Ann Levy Charitable Trust, the SCP Foundation and the Ford Foundation. Special thanks to Rob Byers and thanks to Hindenberg for supporting our projects across Africa with audio editing software. We can only do this work because of your generous support. You can make a donation at radioworkshop.org.