The good side of spaza shops

There’s been a lot of conversation lately about foreigner-owned spaza shops across the country, especially with the alarming incidents of food poisoning.

People are debating about the businesses – some even calling for stricter regulations, or shutting them down.

ALSO READ: Soweto school children poisonings: Health minister confirms chemical as the cause of deaths

But I find myself thinking beyond the surface of these debates.

I’m not interested in the business side of things, but rather to explore the beauty of the human side behind some of these stores.

The friendships I’ve formed with some of them echo in my head and as I write this.

I’m fascinated by how the shopkeepers are able to embed themselves so seamlessly into our communities.

They make an effort. Many of them even try to learn our languages and pick up the local lingo.

You go to buy from them two or three times and by the fourth visit, they know your name, what you are likely to buy and greet you like an old friend.

It’s heart-warming and authentic, a reminder of the human side of business. Maybe it’s easy for me to connect with people.

Just a few metres from my house is Samuel, a 16-year-old boy from Ethiopia, who is being groomed to take over a chain of spaza shops across Soweto.

When he arrived from Ethiopia in 2021, everyone around called him “Sarimuta,” a demeaning name to mock him. But I was concerned not about the nickname, but about him.

Why was this kid running a shop instead of being in school? I learnt later that he dropped out in Grade 5 to follow his older brothers and father to join the family business.

ALSO READ: Concerns about food poisoning incidents disrupting teaching and learning

Our interactions have turned into an unlikely friendship. In fact, it feels more like a sibling relationship – my “younger brother,” as I often refer to him.

I often stop by the shop and spend time, chatting about anything and everything, and he will update me on the latest township gossip.

He’s funny, observant and now knows the community like the back of his hand.

He’ll jump to my defence and restrain anyone who bothers me with a swift warning, or promise of a quick hot klap from behind the welded steel gate.

It’s interesting to watch him grow out of being the timid boy he was.

Likewise, if someone speaks to him rudely, I’m quick to put them in their place.

People don’t always understand it and maybe I also don’t, but our bond is real.

I remember the expression on his face when I shared the news of my father’s death; he went silent and then quietly said: “Thando, I didn’t know. Are you okay?”

Moments later, after processing what I had dumped on him, he started apologising profusely, asking how my young sisters were holding up. It was an unexpected, heartfelt moment.

Through him, I’ve learnt about his family back in Ethiopia, his siblings and his dreams.

ALSO READ: Spaza shops: State urged to intensify policing of informal food outlets

That’s the beauty of life: being able to form friendships, even in the most unlikely dynamics. Irrespective of our nationalities, cultures and backgrounds.

For me, it goes beyond these spaza shops extending credit, it’s a beautiful reminder that friendships can grow from the most unexpected places and teaches us to see people as people.

Shops flouting regulations should be fined or even closed down. But while the law takes its course, let’s not forget the humanity within these shops.