Introduction: The Making of a Township Philosopher
The Township Philosopher is not created in classrooms alone.
I am Mpumelelo Ncwana, founder of Funds & Galore. But before the philosophy, before the markets, and before the systems people see today, I was simply a boy growing up in a township trying to understand the world around him.
A boy raised not only by family, but by an entire environment.
When people talk about success stories, they often imagine a single turning point. A moment of luck. A blessing from the universe. A sudden opportunity that changes everything.
But my experience has taught me something very different.
A human being is built slowly.
Piece by piece.
By people, environments, moments, and experiences that quietly shape the subconscious mind long before we realise it.
Looking back now, I understand that the philosophy behind Funds & Galore was not created in a single moment. It was built over years by people who influenced me in different ways.
Some of those people were family.
Some were mentors.
Some were men the world would judge harshly without understanding their stories.
But each of them left something inside my mind.
And when I reflect on my life today, I realise something important.
The person I became was shaped by both gentlemen and gangsters.
That is the paradox that built the Township Philosopher.
Jammie (Quiet Power): The Township Philosopher
My earliest memory of Jammie takes me back to when I was just a small boy.
Every morning he would take me to crèche in Orkney. We called it Shalom Crèche.
He would lift me onto his shoulders and walk with me down the street. It was only a five- or ten-minute walk, but that same road still exists in my daily life today.
Melton Avenue.
Every morning I run along that same street.
Life has a strange way of connecting past and present.
Back then I never saw Jammie as an uncle.
To me he was a big brother.
The cool big brother every young boy looks up to.
He had a natural charisma that attracted people. At Eddie’s place in Vaal Reefs there were always people around him. What fascinated me was that he never chased attention.
People came to him.
As I grew older, I started hearing stories about him from others in the community.
“Is that your uncle?”
“Do you know who your uncle is?”
They spoke about him with respect.
They said he was calm. Quiet. Not someone who looked for trouble.
But if someone crossed him, he handled it with his fists.
No weapons.
Just presence.
And once people saw that side of him, they understood something.
No one played with Jammie.
But the real lesson he gave me had nothing to do with fighting.
It was about control.
He never displayed his power.
He carried it quietly.
That taught me something important that still influences my life today.
Real power does not shout.
Real power does not threaten.
Real power simply exists.
One day he told me something that stayed with me.
“Don’t call me uncle. Call me Jammie.”
That small sentence broke a barrier between us.
Many young people feel like they must hide parts of their lives from adults.
But he created a space where I could talk openly.
That is something I want to carry forward one day when I become a father.
Because children grow stronger when they feel safe to speak.
Through his connections, he also helped organise one of my early performances with my poi Prince at Red Club in Vaal Reefs.
At the time it seemed like a small opportunity.
But moments like that build confidence.
They tell a young boy:
“You belong here.”
Those small moments often become the invisible foundation of a person’s future.
Nella: The Sister the World Didn’t See
Some people in life are difficult to talk about.
Not because the memories are bad.
But because they are filled with emotion.
Nella was not just my aunt.
She was not just the mother of my cousins.
To me, she was my big sister.
She supported everything I did growing up. My sports, my school life, my dreams.
I played hockey.
I played soccer.
And she was always paying attention.
But what made her special was her ability to listen.
I could talk to her about anything.
Even the girlfriends I was dating at the time.
She would laugh and ask questions.
“What happened to that girlfriend?”
“What about the new one?”
Sometimes she would tease me about dating girls from different backgrounds.
But it was never judgement.
Just curiosity.
Just love.
With her, I never felt like I had to hide parts of my life.
That kind of support is rare for a young person.
She also had a strength that many people would describe as gangster in spirit.
Not in a violent way.
But in a fearless way.
Strong. Protective. Unapologetic.
Looking back today, I realise that many of the strong women I respect carry a similar energy.
And that energy influenced how I understand loyalty, family, and strength.
Today she is no longer with us.
But the lessons she left behind remain part of the foundation that shaped me.
Some people leave this world.
But the space they occupied in your life never disappears.
The Street Generals (Discipline in Unexpected Places): The Township Philosopher
There was a time in my life when I was lost.
My conscious mind and subconscious mind were still battling each other.
Something inside me felt incomplete.
So I spent more time in the streets than at home.
And through that world I met the street generals.
Older men many people would describe as gang leaders.
But when we sat with them, we saw something different.
They were fathers.
They invited us to sit with them and talk.
They never tried to recruit us.
Instead, they gave us advice.
They could see we were young boys still going to school, just navigating confusion.
So they told us stories about their lives.
Their mistakes.
Their regrets.
And one thing they always made clear.
They did not want us to follow their path.
Even inside that environment there was discipline.
When they had serious meetings, they would say:
“Boys, please step outside.”
Then they would add something that showed their code.
“You can leave your phones here charging. Nobody will touch them.”
And when we came back later, our phones were exactly where we left them.
Untouched.
That moment taught me something powerful.
Even in environments society fears, there can still be honour and discipline.
The Street Soldiers: The Broken Boys of the System
The street soldiers were different.
These were the young men living directly in the struggle.
Trying to survive.
Trying to eat.
Trying to support their mothers.
Some of them were my friends.
Boys I went to school with.
Smart boys.
Boys who helped us with schoolwork.
But life pushed them down a different road.
And it breaks my heart when I think about it today.
Because many of them were simply products of their environment.
There was one street soldier I remember clearly.
Let’s call him Kay.
To the public he was known as dangerous.
But to me, he protected me.
Inside abandoned buildings where we sometimes hung out, groups of street soldiers would enter.
That could easily become a dangerous situation.
Street soldiers often test people to see how they react.
But when Kay saw me sitting there, he would simply say:
“Not this one.”
And immediately the room would respect that.
That moment taught me something about hierarchy and discipline.
Respect can carry you through environments where fear cannot.
There were nights when I would sit in rooms with many street soldiers.
A small candle lighting the space.
Sometimes I was the only one with a phone.
Yet none of them ever stole from me.
And when I left at two or three in the morning to walk home through the quiet streets of Orkney, none of them followed me.
Because even in that world, there was still a code.
Conclusion: The Philosophy of the Township
When I reflect on everything today, one truth becomes clear.
The Township Philosopher is shaped by many hands.
By mothers.
By mentors.
By sisters.
By communities.
Some of the men who shaped me wore suits.
Others carried the scars of the streets.
But every one of them left lessons inside my subconscious mind.
Those lessons eventually formed the philosophy behind Funds & Galore.
South Africa faces many challenges today.
Unemployment.
Inequality.
Broken opportunities.
According to research on South African township communities (https://www.worldbank.org/en/country/southafrica/overview), these environments often produce both hardship and resilience.
But one powerful force still exists in our communities.
Ubuntu.
The understanding that people build people.
If we build a South Africa where young men have dignity and opportunity, we will see fewer street soldiers and far more leaders.
And that is the future the Township Philosopher believes in.