The gold-rush warrior woman who taught me the secrets of financial freedom (In celebration of International Women's Day)

My husband once told me about his grandmother, Mtise Mabena Mahlangu, who in the early 20th Century had to hustle her way through the rough and tumble mining town of Johannesburg.

She was the daughter of the Ndebele chief at Kromdraai, near Middelburg in the old Transvaal. In the early 1900s, she eloped with a Scottish mission school teacher who was also an engineer. Her father disowned her, not because she eloped with a white man, but because she “selfishly” took away the only teacher in the mission school.

In the early days of mining the reef for gold, Johannesburg was not a place for a young black woman. Mtise had to be accompanied by her husband at all times, or carry her marriage certificate, to verify her claims of living at 144 Sivewright avenue, Doornfontein.

Times got tougher on the reef, as the cut-throat business of mining gold was slowly taken over by the bigger mining conglomerates. Mtise’s husband left, to return to his family’s homestead in Natal. Mr. Bower, the Scotsman, as he was fondly known, never returned. From 1912, Mtise had to fend for herself and her two young children.

Her first resolve for financial freedom was to move closer to her home town of Witbank, where she would serve home-brewed beer to the migrant mine workers who dug coal out of the open pit to fuel the burgeoning economy at the time.

The special brew called Skokiaan was a potent concoction that would get her customers in the mood after one pint, but really boisterous after two and definitely coming back for more.

So cunning was Mtise as a businesswoman that she could increase her price as the evening turned deep night and the men grew rowdier. She hardly broke her frown for a smile as it would show weakness.

Mtise knew she had to survive and raise her children without a father, and this meant that she was to do everything counter-cultural. She, a black woman, was to forge an alliance with the district Police chief whom she met in Johannesburg, District Superintendent van der Linde. This was to guard against her brew being raided, leaving her cash strapped.

Her very thirsty customers would bank with her, pawning items of high value for a pint. She was a trusted supplier of many services which steadily built her a wealthy sum. Among these items were a gentlemen’s gold pocket watch, 12 rough diamonds, a pistol with 24 bullets and a brooch with which she was buried.

Mtise bought a hectare of land on intelligence from her old acquaintance, Mr van der Linde. A piece of land that would give her sustenance. She would plant potatoes and cabbage and carrots, rosemary, wild garlic, mint, and parsley.

She had an orchid of Fig trees and Apricots for jam making. Quinces, and pomegranate trees were her exotic luxuries. She even kept a few chickens. All her produce would be for sale as well as feed her household.

She accomplished this in the very early 1950s as a citizen of the Union of South Africa. Her ID card read: Johanna Bower, married to Walter Bower. This was serious currency at the time, as she was able to not only buy land but live in a farming district that would benefit her life, even after she passed on at the ripe age of 104.

The story fascinated me and had me thinking a lot about what it means to be financially free. I am inspired by the industrious things Mtise managed to do, despite the massive obstacles.

She had a vision for a time and place when her children and grandchildren would be free and able to build from a foundation she had started for them. This at a time when some never knew what it was like to hold a title deed, let alone have the audacity to strive for a better quality of life.

Even with significantly fewer constraints, her grandchildren still don’t know true financial freedom. There is tremendous pressure for them to leave things better off than they found them, so that the generations that follow can progress things further.

Something tells me there’s no finish line, but Mtise and her quest for freedom continue to inspire me to no end.

*This article was initially written for The Change Exchange Blog