Man Oh Man – Moss Makwati

To fans of Moja Love’s Moss Makwati is that animated presenter known for exposing cheating scandals all while donning three-piece suits. Yet behind it all, lies a God-loving 36-year-old on a mission to redeem himself!

How did you get into TV presenting?

I started doing TV work around age eight. I was introduced to voice-overs by the legendary Polao Mohoto, who also happened to be friends with my father. He would rope me in whenever they had voice-over gigs. As a child, I’d observe visitors’ mannerisms and then emulate them the minute they left — an early sign of my passion for TV. I got my first TV breakthrough as a contestant on the SABC1 show, Friends Like These, with DJ Sbu. Thereafter, CEO and founder of Urban Brew, Danie Ferreira, gave me a chance to work for his company. I worked behind the scenes and gathered as much experience as I could before working my way up from runner to director. The goal was always to be in front of the camera. I first appeared on the SABC3 comedy skit show called Last Say on Sunday, alongside Trevor Gumbi and Darren Maule, then went on to present Ntunjambili, an SABC1 children’s show.

I was there for seven years, particularly because I loved working with children. Ntunjambili went on to become the most successful kiddies show in the history of YoTV.

What aspects of your childhood still haunt you?

I was born and raised all over Soweto until my parents finally settled in Dobsonville. I used to get teased about my receding hairline and big forehead — my playmates insisted on calling me Pongopongo [chuckles]. My head also had three corners, so my other nickname was Three Corners.

Who is Moss outside of TV?

I’m a servant of God — I love praying and listening to the word of the Lord. Instead of being chuffed about Uyajola 9/9 trending, I get scared because I know that not everyone will be happy. I have, however, found my refuge in God.

Which public figure do you spend your days studying online?

Trevor Noah, without a doubt. I know him from when he was still a kasi boy from humble beginnings, and that he’s now buying R300 million properties in the US is inspirational. I know the sacrifices he made to get to the top. He was always focused and that’s where he beat most of us. Trevor’s success is not by chance or luck. His story is testament to the fact that anyone who puts their mind to anything can make it in life.

With gender-based violence being so prevalent in SA, what message would you like to convey to other men?

This is a subject that is very close to my heart because I’m a victim of crimes of passion. My mom and aunt were brutally murdered by my aunt’s husband, and losing them the way I did, is still a sore point in my life. These women were my rocks, biggest motivators and taught me every value that I hold dear. However, I only understood my purpose once I’d lost them. Men haven’t been taught how to love women wholeheartedly and nurture relationships. Plus, this social ill of absent fathers also doesn’t make matters any easier. For too long, it was cool and acceptable, for a man to have multiple relationships, have children with different mothers, and be an ATM dad. These family imbalances may seem minute, but they make a big impact. I believe that’s the reason why we’re so desensitised to women being abused and children molested. I’m happy to be in a position to fight these ills through my work. No Excuse, Pay Papgeld and Uyajola 9/9 may seem like sensationalist TV shows, but they’re meant to conscientise society about these social ills. My job is not to judge, but to remind everyone to go back to basics.

What would you ask the first love of your life if you were to bump into her now?

I’d ask how she is and ensure we part on a positive note [chuckles].

What’s the hardest lesson you’ve learned to date?

That I’m not in control. For instance, I’d love nothing more than to live with my daughters but that can’t be the case. I’ve come to be humbled by the bigger power and source of energy that runs the world. I’ve chosen to surrender and allow that to take control.

What is that one thing you’re yet to achieve?

My ultimate desire is to get to a point where I can hear God’s voice clearly because He speaks, hears and knows. As someone who wears their spirituality on their sleeve, I’ve been told to tone it down, but I have no intentions of doing so anytime soon. I understand that one needs to be at a certain spiritual level to be able to discern between God’s and worldly voices — but it’s possible!

What do you owe your teenage self?

I need to go back to being wildly ambitious. I learnt to make the most of the little that I have from my mother. She would wear the same shoes for three years just so we could go to the best schools. I’m nowhere near where I need to be, but I’m grateful that I’m no longer where I used to be.

What has fame now versus then taught you?

I’m now more in control of my choices — where I go, who I choose to hang out with and what behaviours I indulge in. I earned this wisdom through turning to God. Now I know for sure that it is not by my power nor might, but by His spirit, that I’ve been able to achieve the little that I have. Fame is easier to handle this time around because I know that I’m not doing all the work. When I was young, I had money, attracted girls and was self-conscious of what I wore and where I went. Women would leave their numbers on my windscreen wipers and I thought, ‘how great am I?’ But I learnt, very quickly, that I was and had nothing. When all my material possessions were repossessed, I was left with nothing but a sponge. I used to sleep in a garage, in a North Riding complex. I was the first one to leave in the morning and the last to arrive because I was too ashamed of being seen without any possessions. The cold got so much that it started biting into my spine. Just as I was contemplating calling an ambulance, a cousin I hadn’t spoken to in months called and begged me to move back home and start afresh.

What’s your fondest memory about your mom?

My mom always stressed the amount of power in the line ‘Maw’phuma ekasi dubula’ from Kabelo Mabalane’s song, Dubula — meaning that being from the hood shouldn’t stop one from shooting for the moon.