/ 5 September 1997

The Rose with a nose for profits

The Angella Johnson Interview

Dingaan Thobela, two times boxing world champion and all-round Mr Nice Guy, has a rather unusual day job. When he’s not in the ring trying to knock people out, he’s putting them in the ground.

The world-famous Rose of Soweto moonlights as a funeral director. Not that you’d think, looking at his grinning face, that he’s in the death business. “I don’t particularly want to look like an undertaker,” he says, revealing slightly crooked teeth.

The brilliant smile, blue polo shirt and leather jacket hanging over his chair have replaced the sombre expression and dark suit that usually go with the job. So how did he get into such a morbid industry?

“It’s a good living,” he shrugs nonchalantly. Actually, it’s a darn good living: when people are prepared to pay as much as R200 000 (including headstone) for their final journey, the Rose of Soweto is revelling in the sweet smell of success.

He hopes this will also be true when he steps into the ring in October on yet another boxing world title bid. “I have a dream to become world champion three times,” says the 31-year-old welterweight.

I had heard he was retired. Not so. He has been busy building up The Rose Funeral Services, in a not very impressive building in the middle of Industria – conveniently situated up the road from a cemetery.

Like most people, I find it hard to concentrate when surrounded by coffins, caskets, headstones and other death paraphernalia – even the calendar is covered with death motifs – and I tell Thobela so. “The bodies are in the fridge at the back,” he responds mischievously.

Family members of a client arrive with clothes to dress the body, and disappear behind curtains leading to the cold storage room, which contains a dozen stiffs. Thobela says it can hold up to 100 bodies.

What attracted him to this work? “There was a need for a black undertaker to cater for our people. The Indians have been running the show for a long time, but they did not understand the traditions and customs of the black community.” Not to mention the fact that there are big bucks to be made.

So after losing his world boxing title in 1983, Thobela thought it was time he had a sideline to fall back on when his career in the ring is over. “I had a friend who was in the business and he invited me to join him.” The first outlet was in Motlaking. “It took off very well because we offered a stylish service.”

Style is what it’s about. There’s a plush imported wooden and metal casket – with bedsprings, luxury ruffled duvet, sheets and pillow. “You can put this in the ocean and after 20 years the body will be inside unblemished – that’s a guarantee,” he says, pointing to a little American number on display.

“Caskets are more expensive because they are so comfortable.” Excuse me, did I hear correctly? These are dead people we’re talking about. “Yes, I know they don’t feel it, but the family appreciates the effort.”

So the elaborate funerals are about showing off? “A little bit, but mostly it’s so the living can pay tribute to their loved ones and show how much they care.”

He points out that most times the expenses are paid by insurance companies, or money squirrelled away by the deceased.

“Some of these people lived very poor lives and want to be surrounded by nice things they could not afford when alive. In any case, funerals are a social occasion, like a christening or a marriage, so they must be fancy.”

Behind Thobela’s desk are numerous newspaper clippings depicting his dual career successes. His boxing career is a rags-to-glory story: poor kid from the ghetto constantly involved in street brawls; his father decides to buy him a pair of gloves; he begins sparring in the backyard and shows promise; next stop the neighbourhood gym.

“I learnt some tricks and everyone said I had potential. Then after six months I started in tournaments as an amateur.” He won his first bout in Soweto on points. “It felt good and I knew I was capable of doing more.”

Muhammed Ali was his idol. “I liked his style, his banter and his successes in the ring. He was a real showman.” Which is what Thobela wanted to be. So at his first international fight, he entered the ring clutching an armful of red roses, which he lavishly doled out to women in the audience.

Thobela is an orthodox boxer. “That means I jab with my left and my big punch is with the right – same as Ali.”

It was not long before he was winning major competitions, beginning with the South African Amateur Boxing Union Championship in 1985. Turning professional the next year, he climbed the ladder to get a shot at the World Boxing Organisation title – and won.

He defended it twice. “There was no opposition from there on,” he remembers. So he relinquished the title and went for the more prestigious World Boxing Association crown. But he was defeated by Mexican American Tony Lopez. “It was daylight robbery. The judge saw things differently from the way I performed and there was worldwide outcry that I was cheated.”

In the return fight he won his second world title, and subsequently lost it. Despite several attempts to regain the belt, Thobela failed – due, he says, to a weight problem. But he’s not about to lie down and die: “I won’t stop until I’ve fulfilled my ambition to become three times world champion.”

Yet he insists that if he had a son (he has two young daughters), he would not let him box. “It’s because of the stress and worry he would have to go through.”

His pet peeve is that before a big match boxers have to abstain from sex for anything from eight weeks to three months. Something to do with it sapping their strength. I express healthy scepticism at this theory, and Thobelo looks amused, then delivers an impromptu biology lesson beginning with a question. “Tell me, what do you do immediately after making love?”

That’s a bit personal, I thought, but decide to play along. Light a cigarette? “Nope! You go to sleep, You lose your zip. Doctors say it takes 14 days to fill up your scrotum, which is a man’s strength.” And I thought that was where he kept his treasures.

It won’t be long before Thobela has to start abstaining again. But the potential rewards will no doubt ease the pain. “If I win next month, it will open the door for me to go back to world stardom. I don’t particularly like fame, but fame likes me and I did get to enjoy it.”

And the purses are getting higher. His biggest single payout was R150 000 – which is nothing compared to Tyson’s $30-million for biting his opponent’s ear off.

Whatever the outcome, Thobela need not worry about keeping his house in the northern suburbs, or the luxury BMW parked outside his building. As he points out: “Undertaking is one business that’s always prosperous. People must die; fortunately, when black people do they want to go out in style.” And we all know style costs.