Guluva earned his name. He didn’t win it while playing a game of dice on a dodgy street corner, the type of corner where you say a little prayer before passing it, to avoid being robbed. He grew up an orphan and an only child. His father originated from Lesotho, dealing in dagga to make a living, a heavy drinker who abused his mother and beat her to a pulp, for dubious reasons only his intoxicated mind could think of.

The beatings happened each time his father came home in the early hours of the morning from his long drinking sprees at Sis’Rose’s shebeen. His mother was an industrious woman from Greytown, just outside of Pietermaritzburg, who never waited for her boyfriend’s money to make their three-roomed mud house a home. She grew up an orphan too, her parents died during the gruesome political wars of the early 90s. She sold vetkoeks next to Edendale hospital. Coincidentally, that is where she took her last breath after succumbing to multiple stab wounds Guluva’s father inflicted on her. After realising what he had done, Guluva’s cowardly father hanged himself from a tree, next to a small river, a few metres away from Qokololo stadium.

Nowadays, Edendale mall stands in place of the once-famous stadium, named after a local struggle stalwart, Qokololo Hlophe. Maritzburg City, a team famous for producing such football talents as Jimmy Tau and Mbulelo Mabizela (who both captained Orlando Pirates at their prime and played for the national team) used to play their games there, attracting capacity crowds. As a youngster, Guluva used to watch every game played in that stadium before tragedy forced him to grow up too soon.

With no one to turn to for help, at an early age Guluva took after his parents, being self-sufficient. He dropped out of school and started selling sweets and biscuits to put food on the table. He was just 15 years old at the time. He managed to convince his neighbours and school teachers not to involve social workers in his situation. He was going to man up and face life head on. He was a strong-willed boy with big dreams.

By the age of twenty, he had graduated from selling sweets and biscuits to selling beer and dagga from the same dilapidated mud house his parents left him with. He was making good money. Luckily, he wasn’t a drinker or a drug user, and he was also not your typical young man whose thinking was affected by his libido. He was able to save money to start something bigger and realise his dreams of owning a big business.

At the age of 25, Guluva was the talk of the township. He owned the famous Guluva’s pub and grill, raking in the Randelas. He drove a red Polo Playa, attracting a lot of admirers in the form of other young men in the township, who looked up to him for inspiration, and the ladies, of course.

A beautiful six-roomed house now stood where his parents old mud house used to cut a sad, depressed figure. In short, he was sorted, and to top it all off, he was a disciplined young man who was chasing a bigger dream. He didn’t let the temptations of a life of glamour and glitter lure him into oblivion. He stayed away from women, alcohol and a life of showing off. He only had a small circle of close friends.

There was a girl, though, that he really liked and had a weakness for. Her name was Mbali, the beautiful and down-to-earth daughter of a struggling but vicious shebeen queen, Sis’Rose. Mbali was every young man’s dream girlfriend, a yellow bone, average height, and curvy in all the right places.

Her mother was well known in KwaDambuza for all the wrong reasons. On top of being 55 years old and still demanding to be called Sis’Rose, she was famous for sleeping with men who frequented her shebeen, and making sure she drained them of every cent they had. Men would go back home drunk, sexually satisfied and with gaping holes in their pockets. Women dared not confront her about her activities with their husbands and boyfriends: Sis’Rose was a skilled user of the famous okapi she kept in her bra, comfortably tucked in between her gigantic breasts.

Guluva, with a little encouragement from his peers and a heart longing for the pleasures of romance, began courting Mbali. He used to imagine a life of bliss with the shebeen queen’s daughter: taking her to the University of KwaZulu Natal to study further, waiting for her to finish before getting married and having children. He was going to make sure his mother-in- law was well taken care of as well, finally stopping the life of a shebeen queen.

It didn’t take long for Guluva and Mbali to be an item. Guluva had a way with words and, a closet charmer, convinced Mbali that he was the man for her. They became the talk of the township, two young people with so much promise of a bright future – relationship goals, as the young generation would say, envied by many who wanted the life they had. They spent a lot of time together, talking about their future plans and helping each other at Guluva’s pub and grill. Guluva would give Mbali some money to take home, for buying clothes and doing her hair. Occasionally they would go on dates and watch movies at the Liberty Midlands Mall, or drive to Durban to spend time at the beach. They were a happy couple.

Tell us: What do you think about the life Guluva lived?