News24 | WATCH | Cape Town’s kota bozza: Words may stutter, but Meli Gingqini’s kota’s speak volumes

• Meli Gingqini started Jamludi Eatery, creating a sustainable income while navigating barriers like advanced stuttering.
• Despite operating with limited resources, the Jamludi Eatery is popular among students on a budget.
• Jamludi Eatery serves as Meli’s testament to hope and empowerment for young South Africans, and proof that success can emerge from humble beginnings with perseverance.

It is no secret that Cape Town stands out for its exceptional food offerings, complemented by views of sweeping vistas and the vast Atlantic Ocean.

In Singabalapha, an informal settlement on Observatory’s Main Road, just opposite KFC and the neighbouring McDonald’s, you’ll find a tiny cultural food pocket called Jamludi Eatery, a kota business run by 25-year-old finance student Meli Gingqini.

He tells News24 Food that he started the business in response to limited employment opportunities, creating a sustainable income stream while completing his studies.

Living with advanced stuttering, he faced repeated barriers in traditional work environments, prompting him to build something of his own instead.

On an average day, the eatery produces between 40 and 50 kotas; during its viral surge in October, demand exceeded capacity, resulting in complete sell-outs.

The daily grind

Meli’s days begin around 05:00 as he starts preparing for service.

Bags of potatoes are peeled, cut, washed, and portioned, and fries are readied before most of the city has fully woken up.

As a finance student at Cape Peninsula University of Technology, he typically uses the residence kitchen for prep. However, with universities now closed, this preparation takes place in Singabalapha.

By 09:00, the bulk of prep is done.

Meli transports the fries to the stall by scooter, checking that everything is in order before leaving the business in his employee, Vincent Kudzanji’s hands. He then heads to campus, attending classes until late afternoon.

At around 16:00, Meli returns to relieve Vincent, who needs to catch a taxi back to Langa. From that point, he takes over operations, serving customers and pushing through the evening trade until roughly 21:00.

By the time he gets home, usually close to 23:00, the working day isn’t quite over. That’s when he opens his books, fitting in an hour of studying before exhaustion finally wins. “There is no rest,” he says.

Entrepreneurship breeds dignity

Being in his final year of university, Meli tells News24 Food that securing formal employment proved difficult. Living with advanced stuttering, Meli found that interviews often ended before they began, not because he lacked answers, but because employers assumed he did.

Rather than accept this as a stopping point, Meli made a practical decision.

“I realised that for someone like me to survive in this environment, I couldn’t wait for opportunity,” he says. “I had to make it.”

That entrepreneurial instinct wasn’t new.

Long before Jamludi Eatery took shape, Meli who grew up in Khayelitsha Park sold grapes door-to-door for R5.

The kitchen had been familiar territory growing up as well.

At home, he would cook alongside his mother, braaiing for family gatherings.

When he arrived at university, he began selling umbengo (braai meat) with pap and chakalaka to fellow students. The response was immediate, but short-lived.

Residence regulations quickly shut down the operation.

In 2021, while travelling on a Golden Arrow bus, Meli noticed the stretch of Main Road in Observatory where Jamludi now stands.

There was foot traffic, a Pick’n Pay up the road, and Groote Schuur Hospital nearby.

“When you’re choosing a place, it depends on what you’re selling,” he explains. “If there’s a shopping centre, that’s a tick. A school close by, that’s a tick.”

The Jamludi Eatery grew in layers.

He explains that his menu, which is named after different car models, was designed with students, low-income workers, and people who need a full meal without it tipping into luxury in mind.

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“I didn’t want to add more stuff, and suddenly it’s R60,” he says.

The “Toyota” comes with chips, atchar, French polony, and BBQ sauce for R25. The “BMW”, at R40, includes additional cheese, Russian dressing, and extra sauces.

“We used to debate about cars, a friend of mine who is a star now, Sweet Guluva. He loved Toyota, and I loved Mercedes-Benz. So I put it on the menu to provoke him.”

One viral moment

Meli says that he had never imagined that a casual day could change everything for him, which recently resulted in snaking queues in Singabalapha. Marketing strategy was never his strength; consistency and quality were his currency.

“I didn’t really take social media seriously. I believed that if I were selling a nice kota, customers would eventually line up. It worked for me. If you tasted my kota, you’d come back.”

That consistency caught the eye of Nkosi Nsumba, a model and filmmaker from Samora Machel in Cape Town.

One morning, Nkosi set out for a 21-kilometre run, but something told him to take a different route and scale back to five. That detour brought him past Jamludi Eatery.

“I just felt this gravitational pull,” Nkosi recalls. What he found was surprising: a kota place, unassuming and empty. In the suburbs, a spot like this should have been packed, and the prices were shockingly reasonable.

Nkosi asked to film Meli. The encounter was unscripted; Meli’s energy and confidence shone through in every single frame.

“There is love behind the food,” Nkosi says. “He doesn’t just make kotas, he makes kotas with love, and people can feel that.”

The response was instantaneous. A story on Nkosi’s Instagram, followed by a reel and TikTok post, triggered an avalanche. Views climbed, comments multiplied, and people began planning visits. The next morning, Nkosi saw it with his own eyes: a queue winding along Main Road.

Cape Town Magazine picked up the story, amplifying the buzz. People travelled from Bellville, Gordon’s Bay, and even Johannesburg. Customer Shaun Zitha had been eating bread at home until Nkosi’s viral video introduced him to Jamludi.

“I never knew there was a kota place hiding just behind my backyard,” he says. “It’s the kind of kota I grew up with in Johannesburg.”

Harsh realities

For Meli, Jamludi Eatery started as a solution to his own employment barriers, a means to survive in an environment where opportunities are scarce. However, survival in the informal sector comes with its own set of hurdles.

To sell food legally in the city, a vendor must hold a Certificate of Acceptability (CoA).

The document confirms that a food-handling establishment complies with hygiene and safety regulations, covering all aspects from preparation to transportation. According to the City of Cape Town, a “food premises” can be a building, a stall, or even Meli’s food trailer.

But obtaining the certificate is easier said than done.

Meli has been trying to formalise Jamludi since 2021.

“I’ve applied for permits; my application is there on the City portal. When the police come, they just tell you to shut up. They don’t care whether this is your livelihood, whether you survive from this thing,” he says.

Enforcement is blunt and uncompromising, including fines, threats, and even potential seizure of the stall.

“It’s difficult,” Meli says. “The same people in power who tell young people to go out and challenge the status quo, to confront poverty, are the very same ones who stand in my way. They complain about young people sitting idle, but when you start something, they tell you to close down.”

Vincent, whom Meli calls Mr Vin, joined the business through a family connection.

Vincent had recently lost his job when the shop he worked at closed after the owner returned to Somalia. In the evenings, Meli returns to take over so Vincent can catch a taxi back to Langa.

His brother introduced him to Meli when the workload became too heavy to manage on his own.

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Recently, law enforcement issued a fine for operating without a trading permit.

“They told Vincent that if they came back and found the trailer, there is a possibility that next time it wouldn’t be here,” Meli says. It is a familiar threat, one that hovers constantly, unspoken but understood.

The working conditions themselves are a challenge.

In Singabalapha, there is no electricity, no running water, and no toilets. Water for cleaning must be bought daily from Pick n Pay in five-litre containers. For some first-time customers, the environment can be off-putting.

“Some come from suburbs, and when they look at this place, they say, ‘nah, it’s dirty, you cannot buy from here’,” Meli admits.

Legacy

The choice to sell kotas was both practical and symbolic.

“This place is full of students, and the majority are from Joburg, Limpopo and Mpumalanga. A kota to them is something that they know. I feel like iKota is part of our identity as South Africans.”

Despite his wings being clipped every so often, Meli believes that the Jamludi Eatery is more than just a business, but a statement.

“I want this place to show people that it is possible, you can do it. You can do it without funds; you can start it and push it.”