by Tessa Van Rensberg | Sep 11, 2025 | Campaign, Featured
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.
To support this amazing cause visit: https://www.backabuddy.co.za/campaign/save-lives-suicide-prevention-in-sa
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by Zane Groenewald | Sep 10, 2025 | Campaign, Featured
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.
To support Dave visit his BackaBuddy campaign link here:
https://www.backabuddy.co.za/campaign/hope-powers-dave
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by Tessa Van Rensberg | Sep 10, 2025 | Campaign, Featured
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
More information can be found on Penelope’s website where you can find many helpful mental health resources and enquire about booking a session with Penelope.
Please share her story with friends, family, and colleagues—the more people who know, the more companions she’ll meet on the path.
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by Simbulele Jezile | Sep 2, 2025 | Campaign, Featured
Dr Ephraim Kgoete (33) from Limpopo is raising funds for 43-year-old Petros Malepe, who has lived with a severe keloid on his chin for more than a decade. Thanks to the Khayalami Health Foundation and the kindness of strangers, a life-changing surgery is finally within reach.
A Journey of Pain and Perseverance
For more than 10 years, Petros Malepe from Ga-Manoke, Burgersfort in Limpopo, has carried the physical and emotional weight of a large keloid stretching from his chin. The condition has not only caused discomfort but has also stolen much of his confidence and limited his ability to pursue work or meaningful relationships.
“Petros has been unable to pursue stable work opportunities because of the visible nature of his condition and the stigma surrounding it. This has deeply affected his self-confidence and his ability to form and maintain personal relationships.” shares Dr Kgoete.
Despite years of moving in and out of hospitals without lasting help, Petros’ resilience and faith kept him going. “At times he felt like giving up,” Dr Kgoete explains, “but the kindness of strangers has given him hope where he once had none.”
Now, through the efforts of the Khayalami Health Foundation, Petros’ story has reached thousands of South Africans who are rallying to give him the gift of healing.
“Petros will require surgery to remove the massive keloid, followed by radiotherapy and continued medical treatment to prevent it from growing back. At this stage, it is crucial because the condition is worsening, and without intervention, his quality of life will continue to decline,” says Dr Kgoete.
Meeting Through Social Media
Dr Ephraim Kgoete, a general medical practitioner affectionately known as Dr Macutcut or Dr Ya Batho, first came across Petros’ case on TikTok.
“I first became aware of Mr. Malepe’s case through TikTok, where he had shared his struggles with his condition,” he recalls. “After learning about his story, I reached out to him directly, and from there, Khayalami Health Foundation began assisting him with support and guidance.”
Moved by Petros’ courage and the years he endured without meaningful intervention, Dr Kgoete launched a BackaBuddy crowdfunding campaign on 15 July 2025 to cover the cost of surgery, hospitalisation, radiotherapy, and ongoing emotional support.
“I was deeply moved by his story. Supporting him was not just about treating a medical condition — it was about restoring dignity and hope,” he says.
Community Kindness Turns into Action
Since its launch, the campaign has drawn incredible generosity. More than 26 donors have already contributed over R26,000 towards the R70,000 target. The funds will cover surgery to remove the keloid, radiotherapy to reduce the chance of regrowth, medication, and psychological care to help Petros rebuild his life.
“The urgency is very high,” stresses Dr Kgoete. “The keloid is not only disfiguring but also carries risks of infection, bleeding, and increasing disability. If left untreated, his suffering will worsen, and his chances of recovery will diminish significantly.”
For Petros, every donation is a reminder that he is not alone. “Every contribution, no matter how small, is a step toward changing my life, and I am truly thankful,” he says.
Through the Khayalami Health Foundation, Dr Kgoete has dedicated his career to helping those who often fall through the cracks of the public healthcare system.
“Community support bridges the gap where public healthcare falls short,” he explains. “It reminds patients like Petros that they matter, and that their future is worth fighting for.”
For Petros, the campaign is more than just a fundraiser — it is the first real chance at reclaiming his life after years of stigma, neglect, and isolation.
To support Petros, visit his BackaBuddy campaign link here:
https://www.backabuddy.co.za/campaign/surgery-drive-fundraiser-for-mr-petros-malepe
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by Tessa Van Rensberg | Aug 14, 2025 | Campaign, Featured
Anastacia Marais, 22, from Meyerton, Gauteng, has been fighting acute myeloid leukemia since 2022 and is now racing to fund the bone marrow transplant that can save her life. On the 22nd of July, Ana’s boyfriend’s father, Christoffel Van Der Merwe, launched a community crowdfunding campaign in the hopes that Anastacia can receive the operation at a private Pretoria hospital with the right doctors, equipment and care. In the first 10 days, 44 donors gave R35,750 toward a target of R800,000—an early surge of kindness that mirrors Anastacia’s determination and the impact she has on those around her. Thanks to DKMS, half of the transplant cost will be covered; the campaign aims to raise the remaining amount so she can proceed without delay.
A mother who never left her side and a family that knows this fight
Christoffel started the campaign because Anastacia isn’t only dating his son, Gerhard—she’s become a special piece of the Van Der Merwe family.
“She’s a big part of our family—that’s why I started the campaign,” he says.
Their understanding runs deep: when Gerhard was just two, he too battled leukemia. The family remembers the fear and the long nights, and they’ve chosen, again, to meet it with gentleness and action.
Just as steadfast has been Anastacia’s mother, who has stood by her side from day one—taking her to every appointment, sitting long hours in wards, and phoning twice a day (three times when she couldn’t visit).
“My mother was my rock—she came to the hospital every single day for the first four months,” Anastacia says, adding heartfelt thanks to her stepfather and a far-flung network of relatives who checked in, visited, and brought comfort.
Anastacia grew up between Port Elizabeth and Cape Town with a devoted single mom—early lessons in courage and adaptation that now serve her daily. During the hardest stretches, Anastacia lived with Gerhard’s family and they provided for her—rides to appointments, meals on the tough days, and laughter on the better ones. Before illness, she was a whirl of curiosity and movement.
“I was curious about everything—I wanted to experience the world in every way I could,” she reflects.
Hiking, dance, karate—if it promised discovery, she tried it. That spirit didn’t disappear when cancer arrived at 19; it adapted. There was remission in 2023, a shattering relapse in 2024, and—after more courage than most see in a lifetime—remission again.
Through it all, she insists, “I’ve never stopped fighting. Not once.”
‘I chose to live, not just survive’
Her love story with Gerhard is a thread of steadiness.
“When I found out I had leukemia, I gave him the option to leave,” she says. “But he chose to stay. Not out of obligation—but out of love.”
His family echoed that choice, showing up with practical help and quiet faith. On her own side, the support has been just as fierce:
Alongside him, her mother’s constancy never wavered: lifts to treatments, bedside vigils, and daily calls that stitched courage into the toughest hours.
“My mom really stood by my side,” Anastacia says. “She made so much effort, and I wouldn’t be who I am without her.”
In 2024, with renewed remission, Anastacia took a brave step into life: she and Gerhard moved into their own place—close enough to family for help, far enough to practice independence.
“I didn’t want to just survive anymore—I wanted to live,” she explains.
The small rituals feel like victory: morning coffees, late‑night talks, and a home that holds both the scars and the laughter.
This Women’s Month, her message is clear. “Vulnerability isn’t weakness—it is power,” she says. “It takes real courage to open up, to say, ‘I need help.’ But when you do, the world meets you with more kindness than you ever imagined.” And to every woman navigating a hard road: “We are women. And that alone makes us warriors.”
Why this transplant—and this moment—matter
Doctors agree that a bone marrow transplant is Anastacia’s best and only path to lasting survival. The Pretoria team is ready; DKMS’s sponsorship halves the financial mountain; and the remaining funds will unlock the operation, after‑care and the chance to plan a future that is bigger than appointments and blood counts.
The campaign has already shown what the community can do—R35,750 raised by 44 people—and this raise was done in just 10 days. Now the wider circle has a chance to finish what love began. Anastacia’s dream is disarmingly simple: study again, work a job she loves—perhaps genetics or zoology—earn her independence, and keep chasing sunrises with the people who never let go.
“That version of me still lives inside me today,” she says. “The illness changed my path, but it never dimmed my light or my hunger for life.”
Every rand given is routed straight to the hospital via a BackaBuddy Blue Tick campaign, ensuring transparency meets urgency. Each contribution becomes hospital days covered, specialist time secured, and a transplant scheduled at the right place with the right team. The generosity that carried her this far can carry her the final stretch—from surviving to living.
Share Anastacia’s story with your networks—every share widens the circle of care and brings her transplant closer.
To support Anastacia Marais visit their BackaBuddy campaign link here:
https://www.backabuddy.co.za/campaign/anastacia-marais
Become a blood stem cell donor in South Africa: start with DKMS Africa’s online sign-up to request a free cheek-swab kit (most donations are done as an outpatient via apheresis; ages 17–55). Alternatively, you can register with the South African Bone Marrow Registry (SABMR), which accepts donors aged 16–45 and ships a swab kit or books you at a nearby
depot.DKMS Africa (sign up): https://www.dkms-africa.org/register-now
SABMR (become a donor): https://sabmr.co.za/become-a-donor/
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