Transoranje School for the Deaf, nestled in Pretoria West, Gauteng, is home to an extraordinary group of young people who are showing South Africa, and the world, that music is not confined to hearing. The school’s Hands of Harmony Choir, made up of profoundly Deaf learners, recently completed a life-changing Karoo tour spanning five provinces and more than 3,000 kilometers, leaving audiences inspired and eager for more.
The tour saw the choir performing in towns such as Sutherland, Merweville, Bloemfontein, Kimberley, and Wolmaransstad, with their main highlight being a moving performance at the Merweville Dankfees in the heart of the Karoo.
Everywhere they went, they were met with standing ovations. Audiences, many of whom had never experienced music visually before, were astonished as songs were interpreted into South African Sign Language (SASL), rhythms were felt through vibrations, and stories were told with hands, faces, and spirit.
For the learners themselves, the journey was equally transformative. They discovered the power of vibration through church organs that shook the wooden floors beneath their feet, or the deep hum of motorbikes at the Bloemfontein Bikers Club. They marveled at natural wonders like the Gariep Dam’s rainbow spray when the sluice gates opened, the Kimberley Big Hole, the giant wind turbines, and even the magic of the night sky at Sutherland’s planetarium. For many, these were first-time experiences, as unforgettable as the performances themselves.
As one choir member explained: “I feel the rhythm through the floor and speakers, and I watch my conductor’s hands, body movements, and facial expressions.”
How the Deaf community creates music
To many, the idea of a Deaf choir may sound impossible. But at Transoranje, music is about more than sound, it’s about connection, presence, and creativity.
The learners use vibrations as their compass. Deep bass and organ notes resonate through floors and walls, allowing them to physically “feel” rhythm. Their conductors, Megan Bester and Carmen Bredenkamp, guide them visually through expressive gestures, facial cues, and body movements. Lyrics are translated into SASL, making each performance a blend of language, rhythm, and storytelling that bridges Deaf and hearing audiences.
Music collaborator Rudi van Wyk, who toured with the choir, describes the experience as life-changing:
“Deaf people do not want to be defined by their hearing ability, they live full, normal lives, with the same hopes, dreams, and needs as anyone else. This journey changed the way I see music, communication, and the power of human connection.”
Rudi shared how everyday environments became part of the music: the pulsing vibrations of motorcycles, the rushing water at Gariep Dam, even the silence of the Karoo night sky, all woven into a sensory tapestry the learners could experience. “Waar Stilte Sing (Where Silence Sings) showed us that rhythm can be felt, dynamics can be seen, and music is truly a universal language,” he said. “Waar stilte sing” was composed by Prof. Theo van Wyk from the University of Pretoria, with lyrics by Rudi van Wyk. Prof. Van Wyk is a leading South African organist and composer, known for bridging tradition with innovation. They were inspired after realising that Transoranje learners experienced the powerful vibrations of the organ. This moment sparked the vision to write a composition built on sound that can be felt as well as heard, allowing Deaf learners to fully share in the music. Rudi’s lyrics capture the vast Karoo landscape and its silent beauty. The work was premiered and officially released for the first time on the Karoo Tour.
Lessons for audiences and learners alike
One of the most moving elements of the tour was watching how audiences engaged with Deaf culture for the first time. Instead of clapping, crowds quickly learned to raise their hands in the traditional Deaf way of showing praise. Children in the audience asked questions about SASL, eager to try their first signs. Concerts became moments of dialogue and awareness, not just entertainment.
Audiences were struck by the learners’ confidence and joy. Many said they had never seen music come alive so visually, and they left with a deeper appreciation for Deaf culture. They learned about traditions like sign names. This is where the Deaf community gives a specific “name” according to a physical feature that stands out to them from the person, as names are not finger spelled. This is a special gift as it can only be given by the Deaf community. They also saw that Deaf children’s lives, hopes, and dreams are no different from anyone else’s.
For the learners, the tour was just as enriching. They gained confidence, teamwork, and stage presence, learning to adapt to long travel days and packed schedules. Teachers reflected that the learners returned with a stronger sense of identity and pride: proof that “Deaf can”.
A campaign to keep the music alive
The success of the Karoo tour has sparked a renewed dream: to take the choir on a second regional tour in 2026 while also ensuring they can perform throughout the year at festivals, Deaf Awareness Month events, and community concerts. To make this possible, the school has launched a revamped crowdfunding campaign on BackaBuddy.
Their target is R55,000, which will cover essentials such as:
Transport and tolls – R16,000
Meals and catering – R10,000
Accommodation – R5,000
Performance wear and uniforms – R9,000 total
Festival entry fees – R5,000
Other performances across the year – R9,000
During their first campaign, the choir raised R12,400 from 8 generous donors, funds that helped make their Karoo tour possible in 2025. With additional in-kind sponsorships and donations, they stretched that budget to cover essentials like travel, food, and even a much-needed bass speaker. Now, as they look ahead to their next dream, a regional tour planned for 2026, the school has set a new target of R55,000. At present, fundraising for this upcoming goal has yet to begin, making community support more vital than ever.
As the school explains: “This is about more than another tour, it’s about creating opportunities for our learners to showcase their talent, share Deaf culture, and inspire communities across the country.”
More than music
For Hands of Harmony, music is not simply performance, it is identity, advocacy, and hope. Through every song, they remind audiences that Deaf culture is rich, proud, and full of talent. They show that inclusion is possible, that art transcends barriers, and that silence can indeed sing.
By supporting their campaign, South Africans can ensure these young performers continue to grow in confidence, explore the country, and prove that “Deaf can.”
The 10th of September—World Suicide Prevention Day—South Africa must face a crisis we often avoid. Lino Muller(49), CEO of SafeTalk, is asking us to answer with compassion and action: training teachers, parents and community leaders to spot warning signs, ask brave, caring questions and connect people to life-saving help. By prying open the silence, he’s starting a healing movement where children can speak and adults feel equipped to hold the big, scary word “suicide” with steadiness. To keep this work moving, he’s launched a community crowdfunding initiative so that the hope that SafeTalk delivers to so many can keep moving forward.
The person behind SafeTalks
Lino speaks English, Afrikaans, German and conversational Sesotho, shaped by a life moving between South Africa, Lesotho and Austria. He keeps grounded with exercise, connected breathing and quiet reading—but what steadies him most is the courage he witnesses in ordinary rooms.
“Every session becomes an ‘aha’ moment,” he says. “People who have hidden their pain for years finally feel safe to speak.”
Twenty-five years ago, Lino’s brother died by suicide—an experience that taught him how stigma fuels silence.
“One of the strongest myths around suicide is that it’s selfish,” he reflects. “In reality, it’s the opposite. People who reach that point often believe their loved ones would be better off without them.”
Determined to change this narrative, Lino founded SafeTalk(2024) in Johannesburg, Gauteng, drawing on international best practice while tailoring the content to South African realities where resources are scarce and the need is great. SafeTalk’s focus is practical: awareness, anti-stigma education, and community training that equips ordinary people to notice distress, open a safe conversation, and connect someone to professional care.
What does a SafeTalks Workshop look like?
Inside a three- to four-hour SafeTalk workshop, participants practise how to ask directly about suicide in a safe way, listen without judgement, and guide a person to support.
“People leave feeling more confident to recognise the signs,” Lino says.
At a large primary school, a principal assured Lino there were “no mental-health issues” because discipline was strict. Lino invited 200 learners to stand, then to sit if a statement resonated: Have you ever gone without food? Do you have problems you can’t talk about? Do you feel ashamed sharing your struggles? By the third question, every learner was seated. He then asked them—anonymously—to write one thing they would never tell anyone. As he read a handful aloud, the room heard stories of self-harm, anxiety, depression and suicidal thoughts. The principal wept. In private, she thanked Lino and said her approach would change. It was a stark, compassionate awakening: even where adults believe “there are no problems,” young people are carrying heavy, hidden burdens. SafeTalk exists to make those burdens visible—and bearable—by giving communities safe language, clear steps and real pathways to support.
Why the work of SafeTalks is so important
Official figures suggest around 14,000 South Africans die by suicide each year—already a national emergency—and frontline experience shows many cases go unreported. The pain isn’t confined to teens; middle-aged adults are increasingly at risk too, often under the same roof. That’s the hard truth. The hopeful truth is just as real: when even one trained person is present in a school, clinic or workplace, the chances of someone reaching out rise dramatically. SafeTalk’s three-to-four-hour workshops turn fear into readiness—so the next time a learner whispers “I’m not okay,” someone nearby knows what to do.
“World Suicide Prevention Day is about more than awareness,” he says. “It is a call to end the silence, to see each other fully, and to create communities where no one feels invisible in their pain.”
SafeTalk is based in Johannesburg but also runs online workshops nationwide and travels where resources allow, ensuring access for communities that rarely receive specialised training, and in turn hope for those who didn’t know speaking out was ok.
What R150,000 makes possible
Lino has carried roughly 98% of costs himself to date—training sessions, support groups, transport, venues, even borrowing equipment—because the need outpaced the funding. The BackaBuddy campaign seeks R150,000 to keep doors open and widen the circle of care:
Training for teachers, parents, community leaders (and, as resources grow, nurses and police).
Educational materials & awareness that reduce stigma and spread simple, lifesaving steps.
Outreach to under-resourced and rural areas where help is scarcest.
Dignity support—food, clothing and care—so conversations about mental health can land where stomachs aren’t empty.
Every rand turns into seats in a room, pages in a hand, fuel in a car, and—most importantly—confidence to speak out. As of now, early donors have contributed, and the gap to the goal is where you can make the difference.
A word from the CEO of LifeTalk himself
When we asked Lino what he would say to someone who felt like a burden he replied:
“You are not a burden. You matter. You’ve been carrying something heavy alone for too long—please reach out. One small step, one conversation, can start to lift that weight.”
For families, peers and colleagues, his advice is practical: show up, listen without judgement, check in again tomorrow, and help connect a person to care. Immediate Support For immediate support, South Africans can contact the SADAG Suicide Crisis Line on 0800 567 567, or WhatsApp 076 882 2775 / 087 163 2030. With steady backing, SafeTalk plans to complement these services with its own call-centre capacity to meet growing demand.
Conclusion
A once-off or recurring donation means more schools reached, more adults equipped, more children heard before harm. But the movement is bigger than money. Hope starts with one conversation: today, ask your classmate, your colleague, the shop attendant, the woman waiting for a taxi, “How are you—really?” A simple question can provide hope and maybe even save a life, because we are not meant to walk it alone. If you would like to book a workshop or find out more about SafeTalk, visit Safetalk.
Call to Action
Here’s how you can help today in 3 steps:
Share this story with friends, family and online communities.
Support with volunteer time, venues, printing, transport or food parcels.
Donate—every rand counts and directly powers training, support groups and outreach.
Pictured above: Nickey Seger, Dave Spurgeon and Grant Clack.
Nickey Seger (52) from Roodekrans, Gauteng, is no stranger to standing by those she loves. But when her friend Dave Spurgeon (65) from Bryanston, Sandton, was diagnosed with throat cancer in July 2025, she knew she needed to do something extraordinary to help.
Within days of hearing the news, Nickey and her partner, Grant Clack (63), launched the Hope Powers Dave campaign on BackaBuddy. Their mission: to raise R500,000 so Dave can begin urgent chemotherapy and radiation. To inspire support, they committed to running 21.6 km every day for 30 consecutive days — totalling a staggering 650 km.
“When I heard Dave had throat cancer and no medical aid, my heart just sank. This is the reality for so many South Africans. I just felt the need to make a difference and help him in the best way I know how,” says Nickey.
A Friendship That Sparked Action
Nickey met Dave about 18 months ago at a friend’s birthday party, and in that short time, their bond has grown into a strong friendship. What struck her most was Dave’s humility and kindness. Despite his own hardships — including losing his medical aid when he was retrenched during Covid — Dave has always been generous and supportive of others.
“Dave is thoughtful, compassionate, and giving. He has often taken people under his wing, offering guidance, support, and encouragement,” says Dianne, his partner’s sister. “He has truly added value to those around him.”
For Nickey, standing on the sidelines wasn’t an option.
“I believe we are stronger together. Anyone can make a difference — and if my running can give Dave a fighting chance, then every step is worth it,” she says.
“Time is not on our side, which is why this campaign is so important,” explains Nickey. “The funds will go directly to covering Dave’s urgent medical needs and giving him a chance at recovery.”
Community of Care
For Nickey, this journey is about more than fundraising — it’s about proving the power of community. The campaign has drawn messages of encouragement from near and far, with friends describing Dave as fun-loving, dependable, and deeply devoted to his family.
“He’s been more than a friend — he’s family,” says Dick Roberts, who has known Dave for 30 years. “His humour, energy, and love for his daughters make him someone truly special.”
Nickey hopes their story will inspire others to get involved.
“Every donation, no matter the size, and every share of the campaign helps. Together, we can make sure Dave gets the treatment he urgently needs,” she says.
On 17 September, Hout Bay therapist, coach and wilderness guide, Penelope van Maasdyk, will set out across northern Spain to walk up to 1,000km on the Camino de Santiago—linking the Del Norte, the Primitivo and sections of the Via de la Plata—by 30 October. Her mission, Walking for Mental Health, is to offer free on-trail coaching, walk-and-talk support, and craniosacral therapy to fellow pilgrims processing grief, change or trauma, while raising R55,000 to keep the journey safe and simple. Since launching her crowdfund on 5 August 2025, supporters have given R18,900 offline and R3,883 online—with six donors already stepping in. A QR code on her backpack will let anyone book time to walk beside her, talk, breathe, and begin again.
Why Walk, Why Now
Penelope is deeply attuned to people. Clients describe a listener who notices what’s said, what’s unsaid, and what the body is whispering. She speaks frankly about surviving childhood sexual abuse, depression and years of silence that bred shame. Naming her story, she says, loosened its grip—and shaped her vow to create safe, stigma-free spaces where it’s okay not to be okay.
“Life happens in spirals,” she says. “We meet old pain as new selves.”
The Camino called to that vow. One cold evening, watching The Salt Path, the clarity landed:
“I had my answer to all the things that weren’t aligned … I had to walk. Why? Because that’s what I have always done through all the tough times in my life.”
With limited time, she chose a demanding route: Irún to Bilbao along the hilly coast; Santander to Oviedo to join the ancient, forested Primitivo; then a bus to Sevilla or Mérida to meet the Via de la Plata and walk north as far as Ourense—or the calendar allows. Her aim is simple: be a steady presence, a regulated nervous system others can borrow, a companion who will walk as long as it takes.
Therapy on the Move – A Day on the Camino
Days begin in the soft shuffle of headlamps and zips at 5:30am. Penelope with intention, steps into the dark, and walks toward sunrise. Eucalyptus breath drifts from wet groves; salt rides in from the Bay of Biscay; a bakery’s first loaves send warm air into the lane. Way-markers flash yellow; shells clack on backpacks; bells call from unseen chapels. Around 7am she pauses at a lookout to mix her plant-based superfoods—vital for a vegan in rural Spain—before walking on through quiet hours that invite conversation or silence.
Some days are solitary; some are full of encounters. On her last Camino she met “Susie,” raw after a breakup and tangled in shame. They walked, rested, talked. Movement softened the edges; coaching gave language and tools. They still check in years later.
“Connection rewires shame,” Penelope says. “And walking makes truth easier to speak.”
Afternoons end at an albergue—a simple pilgrim hostel—where stories braid over sinks and supper. She never imposes therapy; she offers it. A scan of the QR code sets up a few hours of walk-and-talk the next day, or a quiet craniosacral session for nervous-system regulation. Her pack stays as light as she can manage (about 20% of her body weight), feet are slathered each morning with shea butter and massaged at night with arnica oil, and boundaries hold firm so she can hold others. Short videos on Instagram and YouTube will share the road so supporters can see the work unfold in real time.
Read Penelope’s blog on Camino symbols and what they’ve mean to her here
The Night She Almost Quit
There was a day she pushed close to 50km, much of it uphill through dripping forest. Supplies ran low; her period began; the last 15km offered no water, no café, only mud and roots. By dusk she limped into a hilltop village, only to hear the words every pilgrim dreads: “We’re full.” She slid to the floor and wept—spent, shaking, empty. A caretaker crouched, helped her off with her shoes, found a shower and a cushion, then an extra mattress at the town hall for the night.
Ten hours of dreamless sleep later, Penelope stepped into a pearly rain, following a mossed aqueduct with strangers who had become a community of the trail. Giving up wasn’t an option; there was only forward. That night is why she trusts this path to hold people when their own strength is gone.
Who she is matters as much as what she’s studied (integral coaching, craniosacral therapy, meditation/yoga, wilderness guiding) or where she’s worked (investment banking and consulting, NGO social development, writing).
Penelope(left) guiding a small group on a hike
Those chapters expanded her view: trauma is trauma, whether you wear a suit or sleep rough. Her promise on this pilgrimage is to listen without fixing, to sit with the hard, to be the calm in someone else’s storm.
Penelope’s therapy room in my Hout Bay Garden surrounded my Milkwood trees, birds and squirrels
What your support makes possible: a transparent, modest budget—ZAR12,000 flights (already covered offline via therapy-voucher sales); ZAR8,000 gear (ZAR6,500 sponsored); ZAR5,000 internal travel; ZAR20,000 accommodation; ZAR10,000 food & sundries (including a ZAR400 boost from Soaring Free Superfoods). Shout-outs to the friends who funded her Patagonia waterproof jacket and T-Rockets hiking sandals, and to psychologist Rick Hanson, who gifted a course on grief and loss. Every rand buys a bed after 30–40km, a simple meal, a bus between trailheads, and the data so a struggling pilgrim can find her.
Penelope’s future dreams are big, and she plans to seed monthly Cape Town wellness walks, donation-based community hikes and corporate nature immersions that will subsidise at-risk youth programs—movement medicine for a city that needs it. If you or someone you love needs support today, please reach out to SADAG Suicide Crisis Helpline: 0800 567 567 (WhatsApp 076 882 2775 / 087 163 2030). You are not alone.
Call to action
To support Penelope van Maasdyk visit their BackaBuddy campaign link here
Kim Conley [50] from Hout Bay, Cape Town, leads Amoyo Performing Arts Foundation’s after-school studio for children from Imizamo Yethu. On 11 July 2025, Amoyo launched a BackaBuddy campaign to raise R670,000 to keep 130 children in daily dance, drama and singing classes paired with life-skills coaching. Sparked by Mandela Day 2025, the idea is to turn one day of goodwill into steady monthly support that carries children through the rest of the year. In the first 10 days the drive drew 8 donors and R6000 online donations, alongside R83,300 in offline gifts—R89,400 toward the goal.
Why Kim started Amoyo—and why it matters now
In 2015, Kim and co-founders Mandisa Qwesha and Nandipha Sandlana opened Amoyo to offer a reliable, caring place after school for young people in Hout Bay. The heartbeat of the programme is routine and care: three to five afternoons a week, learners train in African, Contemporary and Fusion dance techniques, strengthen their voices in singing and Musical Theatre, release creative expression and develop confidence in Speech & Drama, and practise arriving on time, prepared and respectful. Each session links to a life-skills theme such as gratitude, decision-making, resilience or goal-setting.
As the team often says, “Amoyo means ‘spirit of appreciation’,” a value woven into every class.
Amoyo is formally registered—PBO 930054407 and NPO 169-708—which helps supporters and corporate partners back a well-governed programme rooted in Hout Bay.
What the campaign unlocks
The target is R670,000 for the rest of the year—about R55,833 per month, which works out to roughly R430 per child per month. That amount turns into very concrete things: qualified teachers’ hours, 120+ classes per child each year, a nutritious meal to fuel learning, safe transport to and from the studio, holiday workshops that keep children engaged when school is closed, and proper attire so every child feels part of the team. Public milestones, including Artscape’s Schools Arts Festival and Amoyo’s annual showcase, give learners a professional stage and a reason to keep striving. Monthly giving protects routine, and routine builds confidence.
From first alumni to new paths
Renecia Dama – Qualified Dance Teacher & Amoyo Foundation Alumnus Renecia Dama, a qualified dance teacher, began her performing arts journey at Amoyo in 2017. From day one she embraced every opportunity, developing technique as well as discipline, confidence, and resilience—qualities that helped her pass matric. Amoyo’s holistic training and mentorship gave her the foundation to pursue dance professionally. Since graduating, Renecia has consistently #givenback and is now proudly employed by Amoyo as a teacher. She uses her story and skills to inspire the next generation, sharing both technical knowledge and the values shaped during her formative years. From a young girl with a dream to a professional changing lives in her community, Renecia embodies Amoyo’s ethos of gratitude, passion, and giving back—the ripple effect of opportunity and mentorship in action.
Thobeka Shumi – Amoyo Foundation Alumnus & Aspiring Pilot Thobeka Shumi’s journey shows how arts education builds skills far beyond the stage. With Amoyo since day one, she moved from loving dance but fearing Speech & Drama and Singing to becoming one of our first Triple Threat students—a true “YES I CAN” person. After losing her home in a fire and briefly relocating, her family returned, believing Thobeka’s Amoyo childhood too valuable to leave. She thrived, resisted negative peer pressure, brought friends into Amoyo, and grew as a leader, supported by parents with strong work ethics and values. The first in her family to attend tertiary education, she’s now in her second year of International Business at the University of KwaZulu-Natal, crediting Amoyo for confidence, curiosity, time management, and grit—traits that set her apart. Her path from the arts to business shows how skills gained at Amoyo translate into any ambitious dream.
Thobeka represents the spirit of possibility that Amoyo strives to cultivate in every student. She embodies courage, ambition, and the drive to reach new heights of success. Her story inspires others to dream boldly and proves that with the right foundation you open yourself up to untold possibilities.
These journeys began with an open studio door at 3 p.m. and a promise that showing up matters. The current campaign keeps that promise for 130 children—not only by paying for teachers and transport but by making sure every child feels seen, prepared and part of a family. Budgets have to cover people and time—the two ingredients that make safety and growth possible. Without steady support, the programme can’t plan classes, retain coaches or guarantee transport. Every contribution helps close the gap between where we are today and the R670,000 goal. Monthly recurring donations are the most helpful because they anchor the plan: • R430 per month supports one child • R860 per month supports two children • R2,150 per month supports five children
From the first warm-up to the end-of-year showcase, children carry lessons beyond the studio: they speak up, arrive on time, and start to believe they belong in rooms they once thought were closed to them. That is what this campaign protects—130 daily chances to practise being ready for the next step.
