14/08/2026
I first fell in love with African beadwork as a young child, maybe 5 or 6 years old at the time.
Back then, PheZulu was a more rural setting. Whenever we had family visiting us from the UK who would regularly visit every few years, I remember us visiting PheZulu on such occasions.
From Hillcrest, you'd make your way up the main road. As a child it felt like a steep climb towards Bothas Hill, the embankment leering above you on the left, bushes and native grasses and big white boulders that somehow stayed in place. And to your right, a steep drop that eventually petered off to the residential area of Westriding.
As you reached the top, there was a sharp, but long bend left, bringing you to the small hamlet that was Bothas Hill at the time. Further in, are the extensive grounds of Kearsney College, magnificent plane trees and old oak trees lining the long driveway up to the private boarding school for boys.
Past the few residential homes, the area became more rural, the roads dustier, before arriving at the dirt road where PheZulu was.
The main building, thatched roof, held a shop. As a child entering, it felt like the walls were really tall, heaving with an array of wooden masks. Shelves adorned with sculptures, hand carved and the bright, beautiful and vast assortment of beaded jewelry and homewares. It felt like Aladdin's cave. There was so much to take in. It was enthralling to say the least.
Now, whenever I smell woven baskets of grass that appear time and again in our stores, it takes me back to PheZulu, thatched roofs, beaded jewelry and the small town where I grew up.
📷 Hannah Paine
