Upcycling Unleashed

If you followed the sound of a hand drill down a sunlit lane in South Africa, you’d find him—sleeves rolled, eyes steady, hands doing what the world too often forgets to try: mending. Around him, scrap becomes story—and a home takes shape from what others left behind.

The workshop changes with the light: pallets grow into bookshelves, bottles glow into lamps, a cracked tabletop becomes a coffee table that wears its scars like a map. There’s a hand-painted sign by the door that reads, “Nothing wasted.” It’s not a slogan. It’s a promise.

Against the back wall rests a rusted iron frame that someone called junk. He doesn’t argue with rust; he answers it. Wire-brush, primer, patient hands. He maps each bolt hole like a cartographer, measures twice, then once more, and begins the slow ceremony of making a bed. Near the door, a neat stack of tyres waits its turn. He works them like notes in a song—cuts, cleans, binds—tops them with round wooden lids he’s sealed smooth. The result is a ring of stools that roll easily into a circle for tea, homework, or unplanned laughter.