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About Polokwane

Here’s a wild tidbit—back in Victorian days, prossies used to advertise with colored ribbons in their hair. Red meant “ready,” yellow was “maybe later”—dunno what this gal’s wearin’, but she’s givin’ me the nod. I’m chuffed, yeah, happy as a pig in mud, but then—bam!—some greasy git tries to jack her earnings. Made me furious, I tell ya! I slam my staff down, roar, “You shall not pass!” and he bolts like a scared mutt. She laughs, calls me “old man”—cheeky cow, I love it.

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Ever walked near the Klein River? It's sneaky and unpredictable, swirling around like your last bad date. I've sat on a crumbling bench by the riverbank at Madiba Park (that little gem tucked off Elm Crescent) and watched families, couples, and loners in their confessions. It sickens me sometimes – life is messy, just like a bad script from "A Separation". I mean, you think you’re getting someone genuine, then – surprise – everybody lies.

Khoisan settlement edges closer to eviction from forestry department land in Grabouw