As I mentioned before, back when I was 19, I used to drive Sis Jeanette around, as a way to earn some money for myself, despite not having a driver’s licence.
My main job was to drive her to town and back, helping her stock up for her shops, along with any other errands she needed running.
Due to the apartheid government’s restrictions, women weren’t allowed to obtain a driver’s licence, so Sis Jeanette made it her mission to ensure I got mine.
She was worried about the trouble I could find myself in if I was ever stopped by a traffic officer.
She went ahead and paid for both my learner’s and driver’s licence tests, which, admittedly, I failed seven times before I finally passed.
Back then, a learner’s licence lasted only six months, and on the very day mine was set to expire I booked another driving test.
Luck was on my side that day, as the head official conducted my test, and despite my imperfections, he passed me.
He said I knew how to drive, but still had a lot to learn on the road.
I left the traffic department with my licence in hand.
My time with Sis Jeanette didn’t just help me legally get behind the wheel, it also opened my eyes to the potential of making a living through selling liquor.
Initially, I began by collecting and reselling empty liquor bottles, alongside running a small spaza shop from my back room, selling sweets and bread.
The profit from the bottles was surprisingly good, leading me to eventually focus solely on this venture, shutting down the spaza shop.
Even when I went back to school to finish my matric in 1980, I kept the bottle business going at weekends, dedicating weekdays to my studies.
After obtaining my matric in 1981, I fully submerged myself in growing my business and managed to buy my first car with the money I had saved up.
It was a Ford Anglia and cost me R90, a significant milestone which facilitated stocking up my spaza shop and shebeen.
Not long after, I ventured into the taxi business, recognising the potential to diversify my income streams.
As my aspirations and things started to move, I knew operating from my parents’ backyard would become increasingly impractical.
It was not sustainable, and I needed to make a plan.
I reached out to a local councillor in hopes of a housing solution which could accommodate my expanding ventures.
My application was successful, thanks to Uitenhage [now Kariega] stalwart, the late Ponana Tini, a councillor in the black township, who helped me secure a house at 85 25thAvenue, right on the same street I grew up in.
This new house allowed me to broaden my operations, adopting a business model which involved partnering with homeowners.
I would negotiate the use of their back rooms for my business, similar to how I started at my parents, and an agreeable fee.
I employed my new partners’ children to sell, cashier, bartend and stock — at least one at each respective partner’s home.
Through this model, I was able to expand my network of shebeens to four locations: two along 25th Avenue, one on 16th Avenue, and another on Bam Street, all within KwaLanga.
In addition to running these establishments, I also dealt with paraffin.
Managing my liquor outlets proved to be a manageable task at the time.
I operated my house as the office and the central management hub for all the sites.
To ensure smooth operations during the day, I hired staff to manage the day-to-day activities of the businesses.
My growing business activities required a bigger vehicle, so I purchased a Chevrolet El Camino bakkie for R600 and gifted the Ford Anglia to Mzwanele Nqoza, one of my best friends, a brother and neighbour I had known since childhood.
I collected cash every evening from the shebeen, which was a highly risky thing to do, exposing myself to robbery or theft.
Nonetheless, I felt safe. I had built strong and close relationships with the community.
I helped financially struggling families with groceries, uniforms, or school fees, which made me feel safe and confident enough not to arm myself with a pistol for protection, as was typical with some business owners in the township.
After collecting the day’s earnings, I would take a moment to reconcile all the cash with my books, accounting for sales and stock.
From there, I would allocate funds to replenish the inventory and set aside any surplus for savings.
I had two methods of saving money: one was to put it in a call account, and the other was to use the money to buy empty bottles from the community which I would resell to the distributors, which generated profits of about 30-35% each month.
I would invest the money into my fixed deposit account.
After mastering this business operation, I started selling Amakhamba, a locally brewed beer made from maize, maize malt, sorghum malt, yeast and water.
This helped diversify my income flow and gave me a competitive edge over other astute, well-established businessmen such as Jimmy Nzuzo, who owned and operated more than 10 spaza shops from various sites. I wanted to be and do more.
This is an extract from ‘The Birth of a Pioneer’ — a self-published book written by entrepreneur Stephen M Dondolo. The book can be purchased online from www.birthofpioneer.com and at Astron Energy stores in Kariega.
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