By Aurelia Mbokazi-Kashe

There’s something profoundly healing about going home to the village; a quiet magic that words can barely contain. The Shona call it Kumusha — a place of peace, your ancestral home that anchors you to memory and meaning. It’s not just where your parents live; it’s where your spirit exhales.

Since my parents retired and returned to our village before COVID-19, my trips home have become few and far between. Nearly two years had passed since my last visit, and I missed everything, from the rolling hills, the chatter and even the chickens who seemed to cluck just as loud as if adding their two cents to the animated conversations. Village life may have its struggles, but it also has the calmness of whistling winds and starlit nights that turn the sky into a bejewelled wonder.

So, I packed my offspring into the luxurious Audi Q7, a top-of-the-range 7-seater with all the bells and whistles I could think of, stocked up on provisions, and set off on the long road from Johannesburg to Tholeni village, Butterworth.

The Preparation
If you’ve ever driven through towns in the former Transkei, you’ll know that a supermarket trip is an extreme sport punctuated by long queues, chaos, and slow service. With only three days to spend at home, I wasn’t about to lose one to the crowds eGcuwa.

Instead, I made a detour to the Johannesburg Fresh Produce Market in City Deep the day before the trip, filling the Q7’s cavernous boot, since we did not need the last row of seats, with fresh fruit, vegetables, grains, and even trays of eggs. In my culture, umphako, the act of not arriving empty-handed, is sacred. It honours family and neighbours and the spirit of homecoming.

Fortunately, the Q7 seemed to understand this unspoken ritual. It swallowed four overnight bags and all my groceries with room to spare; a true testament to its space and clever storage design.

The Drive
We left Johannesburg just after sunrise. For the first few kilometres, My playlist for the roadtrip consisted of a mix of gospel and Afro-pop and my thoughts to keep me company, since everyone drifted off to sleep before we even reached Grasmere Toll Plaza, sprawled comfortably in the Q7, including the reclining back seats which became a firm favourite.

The Audi Q7 was built for this kind of journey, long stretches of open road where its adaptive cruise control, whisper-quiet cabin, and seamless gear shifts make hours disappear. It’s a car that marries comfort and power beautifully — steady on the bends of the Eastern Cape’s winding roads, yet gentle enough to make every kilometre feel effortless.

The Performance
As our journey unfolded, mainly along the N1 freeway until Bloemfontein, before weaving through the N6’s endless stretches of Free State farmland and into the lush landscapes of the Eastern Cape via the R61, the Audi Q7 proved to be more than a trusted companion. I kept track of the route, thanks to the car’s crystal-clear high-resolution display constantly showed every road name, big or small.

From smooth highways to narrow rural roads where I had to be on high alert for unexpected animals or pedestrians, the Q7’s 8-speed automatic transmission delivered effortless performance throughout. Its acceleration was insane, and almost unreal for such a large vehicle carrying a full load, living up to Audi’s claim of 0–100 km/h in about 5.6 seconds. Thankfully, there was no need to test its 250 km/h top speed; this trip wasn’t about speed. It was about the journey, a drive to reconnect, reset, and return to my happy place, the source of where it all began for me.

Small Town Stories
A road trip through South Africa is never just a drive; it’s a collection of small-town
stories stitched together by petrol stops and padstalls.

Winburg, a quaint Free State farming town, is my first and most cherished stop. The Fat Butcher remains a pilgrimage site for its biltong, game pies, and heavenly milk tarts. Once stocked up, I glide through Bloemfontein, saving my next pause for Aliwal North, one of the most picturesque towns on the banks of the Orange River. Die Tollhuis Padstall is a gem here, serving tramezzini and burgers so good they’ve become a family legend.

Then comes Queenstown, the prelude to chaos. It’s busy and loud, but Queens Casino and Hotel offers an oasis of calm, with lush gardens and old-world charm. It’s the perfect pitstop before the final stretch.

The Last Leg
Beyond Queenstown, the road turns intimate — villages with painted houses, dusty intersections, and battered Hilux bakkies ferrying people home. Cofimvaba, Tsomo, and finally Nqamakhwe roll past, each bursting with life and noise. By the time I reach the gravel road that leads to Tholeni Head, I’m dodging cattle, stray dogs, and overconfident taxis — the final test of endurance. And then, there it is —home. The smell of my mother’s freshly baked umbhako fills the air, laughter spills from
the kitchen, and voices overlap in joyful chaos.