Countdown to Miss World 2025: South Africa's Zoalize makes strides with purpose
The anticipation builds for Miss World 2025 as South Africa's Zoalise scores big with top 20 multimedia finish and a stunning award-winning gown celebrating her rich heritage.
The anticipation builds for Miss World 2025 as South Africa's Zoalise scores big with top 20 multimedia finish and a stunning award-winning gown celebrating her rich heritage.
As anticipation builds for the 72nd edition of the Miss World pageant, set to take place on May 31, 2025, at the HITEX Exhibition Centre in Hyderabad, Telangana, the competition is heating up.
Contestants from across the globe are showcasing their talents and cultural heritage in pursuit of the prestigious title.
Among them, Miss World South Africa Zoalize Jansen Van Rensburg is making headlines with her outstanding performances, securing a place in the top 20 finalists for the multimedia challenge.
In addition to her multimedia success, Jansen Van Rensburg has also been recognised as the winner of the World Designer Award - Africa.
The beauty queen took to the stage wearing a stunning creation by designer Juan William Aria, a gown that not only highlights her individual beauty but also encapsulates the richness of South Africa's natural landscapes and cultural ethos.
This exquisite gown, crafted from satin glass fabric, is adorned with intricate hand-embroidered motifs and bespoke artwork. Its design pays tribute to the vibrant flora of South Africa, with the protea—the national flower—symbolising unity, innovation, and the humble strength of the nation.
'It is a celebration of who we are as a people – diverse, rooted, and proud,' Jansen Van Rensburg remarked, expressing her appreciation for the artistry and vision that went into her attire.
She has been on an enlightening journey throughout the Miss World competition, frequently documenting her experiences on social media. She recently shared an important lesson she has gleaned from her journey: the significance of leading with purpose. 'Always lead with purpose,' she emphasised, noting the invaluable role of compassionate leadership in effecting meaningful change in the world. This mantra resonates closely with the 'Beauty with a Purpose' programme established by Ms Julia Morley CBE, which seeks to empower communities and inspire action towards social causes.
anita.nkonki@inl.co.za
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Mail & Guardian
4 hours ago
- Mail & Guardian
Noxolo Dlamini returns to the stage as Sarafina
Third time lucky: Noxolo Dlamini returns to the role of Sarafina in a production of the musical, on at the Joburg Theatre until 15 June. (Photo supplied) For Noxolo Dlamini, acting isn't merely a job — it is spiritual. It's a channel that allows her to connect with people through their spirit. I can immediately sense the passion she has for the vocation when she speaks. For her, the art of acting is one that enables her to portray characters that stand up for others and seek social justice. Her portrayal of Sarafina is no exception. She has returned to theatre to reprise her role in the critically acclaimed musical by late South African playwright Mbongeni Ngema. The opening night of Sarafina took place on 30 May at the Joburg Theatre and it will run until 15 June. The award-winning actress recounts how acting was a big part of her childhood, long before she stepped onto the stage and screen. 'I've always acted,' she says. 'I started in nursery school. The earliest memory or story I've heard from my mother is that there was a show that we did. I was like five, six. We did the Down in the Jungle song and I got to play the mama. 'And I remember my mom saying that my teacher at the time went up to her after the performance and said, 'I don't know if you know this, but Nox is really good at this thing, you know. She seems to really enjoy it too.' And my mom was like, 'Oh, okay. Well that's really nice.' 'And so my mom always reminds me of that story and I think that's when she first realised. 'But, for me, I used to love playing in the mirror. I used to dance, sing and act in front of the mirror. It's just something I really liked. I just enjoyed it. I got to primary school and that's all I did.' During her time at Craighall Primary School in Johannesburg, Dlamini had a drama teacher, Mrs Martel, who would later on put in a word to convince her mom to allow her to pursue her love of acting. 'When I got to grade seven, she's the one that spoke to my mother about the National School of the Arts and she's, like, 'I think she should go there because she clearly loves it and she's good at it.' 'So then I went to the National School of the Arts. She really fought for me, you know, and my mom was very supportive. 'It was really lovely because my mom's a single mom of five and I think she appreciated the help of someone else spotting my talent and actually pushing for me to, I guess, go for what I really love.' Dlamini was cast as Sarafina in 2017 and again in 2019. After that, she took a break from theatre to focus on film and television projects. Photo supplied 'I've always done theatre. My career studying-wise was always theatre. Film and television wasn't the thing I was actually planning on doing until 2018. 'The idea started playing in my head in 2017, but in 2018, I made the decision that, in 2019, I'm not auditioning for theatre anymore.' It was during this break from theatre that she won a South African Film and Television Award in 2023 for the best actress in a feature film category for her performance in Netflix's Silverton Siege. The actress recently starred in Amazon Prime's action film G20, inspired by the G20 meeting set to take place in South Africa in November. It stars Emmy, Grammy, Oscar and Tony award-winning American actress Viola Davis as 'Potus', the president of the US, and New Zealand actor Antony Starr as Rutledge, the villain. 'When I got G20, I was like, 'Oh, my gosh, I actually get to work with her [Davis]!' Dlamini remembers. 'You know, the first time I worked with her briefly on The Woman King, doing stunts, but now I actually have a scene with her.' What makes the movie an exciting watch, for South Africans anyway, is spotting the local accents of several of the characters. Dlamini plays Lesedi, a South African government agent posing as a hotel staff member. 'Lesedi is a badass. I think what's lovely about her is that she's such a powerful representation of what a South African woman is — in an action sense, of course. 'But I think my favourite thing is how we were allowed to firstly play ourselves — South Africans — but also, that we were allowed to be a part of the heroes.' 'Lesedi, I think this is like with any soldier — she lends herself … to protect others, to help others. 'I did learn from her that there's nothing wrong with lending yourself, ' Dlamini says. Recently, before the announcement of her return as Sarafina, she spoke about the theatre itch she hadn't been able to quite shake off. 'Like, right now, I'm definitely going back to theatre. There's something in my heart that feels like it needs to happen. 'And, instead of feeling like I'm angry or like I'm tired of filming television, I realised I need to go back into theatre again. I need to fuel up. 'I need to inject myself with that love and that creativity and just give all of that again, to get back to going, 'Okay, okay, okay, fine, I'm okay.' I just needed a dose of that. 'But, yeah, I think I shouldn't leave it for too long, actually. 'I miss the adrenaline. I love the rehearsal space. I love rehearsal time. I love finding the character. 'I love getting to do the same show five times, six times in the week where you can literally have a different show every night because things happen differently. I just miss that.' Some might call it fate that the actress has been cast as Sarafina three times. After all, Dlamini's love for the character began when she watched the 1992 film adaptation of the musical starring South African actress Leleti Khumalo and American actress Whoopi Goldberg. The movie is what finally inspired her to become an actress. 'The earliest I can remember, because I'm thinking of the cassettes we used to watch, we used to have Sarafina. I loved Sarafina. I loved it because it incorporated everything I enjoy. It had the acting, the dancing, the singing and I was just like, 'Yoh!' 'You know what it feels like to me, it feels like … I don't know how to explain it. I think musical theatre people, people who do theatre, will understand the feeling of, like, after doing a huge number on stage and it's at the end. Just that feeling, that exhilarating feeling. That's how it makes me feel. 'And that makes me feel alive. And it makes me feel like I just did everything in the world, you know?' Noxolo Dlamini. (Photo supplied) Sarafina showcases a pivotal moment in South Africa's history when students led protests during the 1976 Soweto Uprising. The characters depict the violent trauma that many students experienced under the apartheid regime. It is for this reason it is crucial for actors to be able to step back from a role. 'We use ourselves. We are the vessel that the character is coming alive through. And some people use their own past experiences to reach certain things. To be a human being and to put yourself through something that isn't actually happening, you know it, but your body and your mind don't really,' Dlamini says. 'That's why they're always talking about de-roling. And it's because your body actually goes through it. The trauma of the character, your body goes through it too.' She says an actor's mind does it too: 'Oh, by the way, just so you know, this is not real, you know, because you're using your actual emotions and you're using your actual self. 'It's really important to understand how you get in and out of that. How to get to a point where you go, 'Okay, the character's done. Now we have Nox. How do we get back to Nox? What does Nox like?' 'It's really important to have that relationship with yourself so that you're able to kind of lend yourself out to your characters.' The actress says she has reached a milestone in her career — and has no plans to slow down. 'My career has been so blessed. I've just reached the 10-year point. I was starting to kind of feel like it's slowing down and I'm just like, 'Ah, do I still want to do this?' ''Of course I want to do this, but what do I want to do? There's something else. There's something else that's meant to happen.' 'I don't know what it is right now. And I love that feeling because it's brought me closer to God again. Because, initially, the reason I wanted to do it was because I believe it is what God gave me. He put that dream in my heart. I can't give up on myself because I feel like giving up on myself is giving up on God.' Dlamini's focus at the moment is on returning to the stage and making her mark once again. 'I think, more than anything, I love what I do because I get to express myself. It's that one feeling of being on stage and going, 'Huh!' And, 'I gave everything that I could.' 'And also, the energy! There's so much energy in what you get from the audience, what you give to the audience. And it's just … it's beautiful to be in the space where we're all telling a story. 'The energies are so different because every show feels so different. 'I get to go home and sleep. And then the next morning, I get to wake up and do it again.'
Mail & Guardian
2 days ago
- Mail & Guardian
‘Kivuli & Nuru': Wild and wet in Africa
Desire After Dark re-edit There are stories that seduce and then there are stories that awaken. Kivuli & Nuru: The Afrodisiacs Collection is the latter. Produced by HolaAfrica! the two albums of sonic storytelling don't so much whisper to your senses as they dance, boldly and barefoot, across your chest. Curated by the unapologetically audacious Tiffany Mugo, this collection is a defiant celebration of African eroticism; it is a reclamation, a resurrection, a rhythmic sermon preached in moans and murmurs. 'Kivuli and nuru — shadow and light,' Mugo says, 'are in constant battle. Human desire is always trying to move from the dark into the light. 'You only need to look at someone's Tuesday evening browser history to know that.' These aren't just concepts, they're mirrors. The shadow is where we bury our want: in prayer, in shame, in cultural silence. The light is where it spills, bold and breathless. The two aren't enemies, they're dance partners. Mugo, a daughter of Kenya, roots the entire experience in language that calls home to the soul. The titles weren't always this clear. 'Initially, the albums were separated into white gold and black gold but that just felt lame,' she says. 'The notion of the shadow and the light eventually came to me and I realised we have so many magical ways we speak of things in our various African languages.' Kiswahili, with its lyrical clarity, carried the intention: 'I wanted people to know that you were on the continent the minute you saw the title, no time to waste.' Whispers of the Tryst This clarity is important because African erotic storytelling still exists in a contested space. The stories in Kivuli, especially, are not soft-focus fantasies. They are textured, layered, emotional, and personal. 'The call for submissions was essentially, 'Go wild!'' Mugo says. 'And that's exactly what they did. 'People wrote about secret crushes, rural loves, fantasies on public transport. Desire is not universal — it is personal.' But while the experiences are intimate, the locations ground them. Kivuli & Nuru don't take you to the usual, Western suspects. These stories move through Afrobeat clubs in Lagos, down side streets in Nairobi, in the quiet moments of Cairo and beside a roadside mango vendor in Cape Town. 'Desire is at your doorstep,' Mugo insists. 'It is not a visa application and a 14-hour plane ride away. 'The continent is a character in this anthology — one could argue the main character.' If the stories are homegrown, so too are their contradictions. 'Africa has a rich history of physical intimacies relegated to, and lurking in, the shadows — cultural spaces, mythology and the like,' Mugo reflects. 'But we also have a very 'robust' history of suppressing those desires.' Kivuli & Nuru are not offering escape but confrontation. 'Even the existence of this work is an instance of that epic battle; desires that have been shamed into the shadows coming into the light. 'That, and I am sure I have family members clutching their pearls at the thought of this existing.' Interestingly, masculinity and femininity fade as fixed concepts in the storytelling. 'These are very personal narratives, some fantasies, some memories, some fictional musings,' Mugo says. 'We're met with simply humans who have sensual, sweet or freaky thoughts. When the lights go out or stay on, if that's your thing, those societal roles start to melt.' The sensory richness of the collection is intentional. It doesn't just tell you what's happening — it makes you feel it. Tiffany Mugo, curator of Kivuli & Nuru: The Afrodisiacs Collection. 'Rachel Wamoto, the mind behind sound mixing and mastering, wanted you to not only hear the voices but for the sounds to sit in your skin,' Mugo explains. 'It's like literary ASMR [autonomous sensory meridian response]. The sensations needed to come from more than one sense.' The result is hypnotic. A gasp, a whisper, the distant sound of beads against skin — these are not flourishes. They are invitations. As for distinguishing fantasy from reality? 'Each author was given carte blanche,' she says. 'These stories just … are. Like WhatsApp, the sources are encrypted — even I don't know what's fantasy and what's real. 'I could know an honest-to-God immortal being, if the story I Killed Flowers For You is to be believed.' Mugo understands the emotional reactions to these stories will vary. 'This collection will touch different things in different people, depending on who you are, where you are in your love and lust life, what your history is or what your politics are. 'Even your current location could affect what comes up. I want this collection to come for all the emotions, good and bad, but all I ask is you feel something. Anything,' she says. And what if what you feel is discomfort or arousal? 'If I am completely honest, the most important emotion is stirring in your unmentionable areas because these are erotic stories,' she says. 'Even if you are a little mad at it, feel something delicious.' Audio storytelling was a deliberate choice: 'With an audio offering, we are doing the heavy lifting. 'You can lay back, relax and let us do the work.' And there's a deeper reach, too. 'Spotify and Apple Podcasts mean that people can access Kivuli & Nuru anytime, anywhere — unless it's banned in your context, of course.' The differences between Kivuli and Nuru were organic, not orchestrated. 'Goodness, you make this seem far more thought out than it is,' she responds. 'I wish I was this level of maestro, but alas, not in this life.' The emotional distinction isn't structural — it's spiritual. Kivuli lurks. Nuru glows. The people within shift, blur and burn. But perhaps the most profound impact of the collection lies in how it becomes medicine. 'One of the loveliest things I heard during this process was a contributor telling me, 'Wow, that felt amazing to put to paper and also say out loud in the studio.'' Mugo knows that erotica is more than titillation, it's transformation. 'It lets us imagine past the selves we are told we can be. It pushes us to think about the premium subscription to our wants, our needs and our sensual selves.' This isn't about climax. It's about clarity: 'Even if you can't get to the summit just yet, at least you know where your journey is taking you.' And for those who still think African sexuality is a blank page or a single story? 'We're not just a gaggle of countries that can't wrap our heads around desire, autonomy and general delicious goodness. 'We have a rich contribution to the global conversation about intimacies, wants and fantasies. We've been doing this before the boats arrived, and we'll keep on doing it, despite what people think. It stays wet and wild here on the continent.' So listen closely. The voices in Kivuli & Nuru don't just tell you how we desire — they remind you that we've always known how.
Mail & Guardian
3 days ago
- Mail & Guardian
Bitter Winter: the show will go on but what of the people in it?
In from the cold: A scene from Bitter Winter, Paul Slabolepszy's new play, which is on at the Baxter in Cape Town. Photos: RegardsVisser A new play by the masterful Paul Slabolepszy is always a cultural event. His latest is in many ways a form of meta-theatre, conveying a deep sense of the tragedy that awaits this country's artists at the tail end of life. But it is also a story of hope for the future. The trick, of course, is to stretch and expand time. That ability possessed by great writers to use words and dialogue, dramatic conflict and connection to parse open and peer inside those crucial moments between people. A well-made play goes inside and examines the interior landscape of the human soul and lays it out for an audience in ways that are entertaining, gripping and — if you are very lucky — capable of shifting your understanding of life itself. A great play puts human beings under a microscope, letting us under their skins, allowing us to see inside their souls so we get an inkling of what it means to be human. Among the most capable writers practising this sort of literary alchemy is Paul Slabolepszy, a legend of South African stage (and screen), and someone who has consistently placed this country's people under a microscope and taught audiences something about who we are. And, perhaps even more significantly, who we're capable of being. That's what struck me hardest while watching his latest play, a three-hander that debuted in Joburg earlier this year and is showing at the Baxter in Cape Town. It is not merely a dramatisation of an encounter between two very different men, it is in fact a celebration of what ultimately connects them. It is a play about what we share. And it is a play that makes you want to be a better person, to try harder and to work at looking more deeply into the eyes of other humans — especially strangers and presumed enemies. Bitter Winter is directed by Lesedi Job and, between them, a team of fastidious designers (set, lighting and sound are all nuanced and compelling) and three actors, what they've crafted is an instant classic, a humbling show that manages to contain an entire universe of human experience. It is wisdom distilled into something warm and tender, funny and entertaining. It is in some respects a small play, no interval and with most of the dialogue between two actors at opposite ends of their careers, characters who at first glance seem polar opposites, unlikely to ever see eye to eye. But Slabolepszy's triumph is that, like a sculptor, he's able to carve away the superficial exterior and expose the human beings at their core. It is riveting to watch, like a live dissection executed with incredible skill and grace and with great care. He puts beautiful truths and vivid stories into the mouths of the play's two stars, reveals their inner workings in honest, measured, sparkling dialogue, so that, by the end of it, you're genuinely touched, eyes doubtless a little wet. It never skips through time, nor does it use effects or stagey gimmicks. 'Now is the winter of our discontent …': Lesedi Job, the director of Bitter Winter, a three-hander written by Paul Slabolepszy. Photos: Gustav Gerdener It is one space, a casting agency waiting room where the kettle's on the fritz and the flimsy excuse for a coffee station is stocked with the cheap and nasty instant stuff. Plus there's a presumably emotionless clock-watching production assistant-type running around, always talking to actors with her back to them. As it turns out, she's human, too. Somehow, in this world of quick, fast, short sound bites, Slabolepszy puts words, sentences and memories together in ways that make you want to really listen to the stories, the longer the better. And when his words find their way into the mouths of such consummate actors as André Odendaal and Oarabile Ditsele, the result feels urgent, precious and prescient. Odendaal plays Jean-Louis, a much older, wiser and poorer actor who survives by occasionally covering shifts at a corner café and otherwise drawing a stipend from the Theatre Benevolent Fund. He does not even possess a cellphone. Ditsele's Prosper Mangane is, by contrast, a young, streetwise know-it-all, full of intelligence gleaned from a short but tempestuous life, and he comes pre-loaded with unfiltered disdain for old white men. The question of whether his disdain is the result of a specific chip on his shoulder, a characteristic of impatient youth or casual indifference to a stranger who is chewing up the oxygen in the room is part of the play's dramatic unfolding. What unfolds, too, is proof you do not need complicated plots, nor an avalanche of profanities, no overt politics, tales of abuse, nor some horrifying hidden secret to generate something powerful and impactful on stage. You simply need truth, stories with heart and relationships between characters whose underlying conflict is capable of going somewhere. You're set up from the start to assume Jean-Louis is cantankerous and gruff. That he is some badly-dressed fuddy-duddy looking after number one. And it's such assumptions that get knocked down again and again in Bitter Winter, a play that's figuratively about those bitter twilight years of old age but also, more literally, takes place on a cold winter afternoon in downtown Joburg. The audience is also set up to instantly judge and characterise Prosper, played so adorably and effortlessly by Ditsele that you almost assume that, like his character, he's not putting in the work, that perhaps he really is simply slouching around, easing into the role, doing what comes naturally. Which is often the bone older people like Jean-Louis have to pick with young people — they're unwilling to put in the hard slog. They think they know everything and, in some respects, they do. Prosper has quickly ratcheted up fame, has all the indulgent playthings of a get-rich-quick lifestyle, including a warm thermal undershirt in his bag and an Audi with a ding that'll cost a small fortune to fix. The casting agency waiting room says it all, though: the behind-the-scenes reality of an industry that is often associated with glamour and opening-night fanfare. But what we're confronted with here is anything but glitzy; it's downright appalling, not even a thought for a bit of heating to keep actors warm while waiting for some hotshot film director to arrive from the airport where he's just landed, no doubt having flown first class. The traditions Bitter Winter draws on are rich, from the great speeches of Shakespeare to Beckett's absurdist set-up of having two characters endlessly waiting for the arrival of some god-like figure. And there's the familiarity of something known to all of us — being uncomfortably stuck in a room with a stranger. Slabolepszy is such an expert on the human condition, and knows so well how to find the best in people, that he's able to draw his characters not into a punch-up, but into a far more dazzling and purposeful expression of all their inner turmoils, memories, hopes, dreams and hurts. Then there's that moment of mutual recognition, the point at which what we witness on stage is an expression of our shared humanity. Something you notice is that, despite his complaints about the cold and the physical pain he's in, Jean-Louis does not feel especially sorry for himself. To an extent, he has accepted his fate, knows enough about how the narrative plays out to realise how and why his life has taken the turn it has. There's a kind of sadness in that, too, but of course this tragic old thespian has been schooled not only by life but also by the parts he's played. And he's comforted, perhaps, by the knowledge that he still has it in him to act — and to do so with everything in his soul. He proves as much, in fact, in a heart-wrenching scene where, at Prosper's insistence, he performs a speech by Richard III's Duke of Gloucester. As Prosper watches Jean-Louis give the performance of a lifetime you see a switch being turned in the young man's heart. He has never had someone mentor him, never known anyone to take the time to show him what acting can in fact be. It's a profound and stirring moment, one in which theatre becomes a place of healing, a sanctuary where souls meet, a space where reality is shaped into something new. Bitter Winter will be playing at the Baxter Studio in Cape Town until 14 June.
