Jozi My Jozi: How civic action is restoring pride in Joburg

On most mornings, the pavements of Marshalltown fill gradually. Office workers slip between heritage buildings, students move in lively clusters and pedestrians hurry along their commutes.

Coffee shops hum. Security guards stand posted on corners, ready to offer directions to a lost soul. 

It is here, in a part of the inner city that still carries a quiet dignity, where Innocent Mabusela, the chief executive of Jozi My Jozi, works and thinks daily about how to stitch Johannesburg back together.

When he first walked into a meeting about Jozi My Jozi, he thought he was signing up for modest volunteer work. He imagined clean-ups and small-scale charity projects, the kind of civic contribution that fits neatly into a few spare days each month. 

What he encountered instead was something more ambitious, a platform attempting to mobilise business, civil society and residents around a shared idea of restoring pride in the city.

“I came in thinking Jozi My Jozi was just a small organisation doing charitable work in the inner city,” he said. “Clean-ups, working with NGOs such as MES and Child Welfare. Then I realised it was more than that.”

Mabusela was raised in Orlando West, Soweto and remembers weekend trips into town as a teenager. The Kine Centre cinemas opposite the Carlton Centre formed part of that ritual, a reminder that the city centre once felt expansive and full
of possibility. 

Later, during his time at Anglo American working on economic development initiatives for Kimberley in the Northern Cape, a meeting with Jozi My Jozi’s leadership shifted his trajectory. 

The conversation moved beyond charity to coordination, beyond isolated acts to systemic collaboration. “As a person who grew up within the city and seeing how it is, I really want to play a role,” he said. “We can’t just leave.”

After leaving the mining industry in 2024, he offered three days a week to the organisation. The intention was to balance civic engagement with a slower personal rhythm.

That plan did not last long. Three days became five. The volunteer became CEO.

“I thought I’d have time to learn golf,” he said, smiling. “That didn’t happen.”

Today, Jozi My Jozi counts about 140 partners across corporates, civil society and education institutions. It operates in the space between municipal constraint and public frustration, convening stakeholders, aligning funding and coordinating visible projects. 

At the centre of its philosophy is what Mabusela calls “story doing”. In a city long accustomed to plans and pronouncements, he argues that credibility must be earned through visible action.

“Rather than going out there and telling people what you are going to do and making promises, focus should be on how you actually do,” he said. “That translates into a story people can see from your actions.”

The organisation’s mission is framed simply: inspire hope and restore pride. That ambition plays out through targeted interventions. The rehabilitation of the Nelson Mandela Bridge was positioned as a signal – a beacon of hope and pride – at one of 13 identified gateways into the inner city. 

Solar street lights are being rolled out in priority corridors. Integrated emergency response centres are in development to coordinate police, private security and emergency services more effectively. 

“It’s not only about CCTV cameras, response is also critical,” Mabusela said.

This is also an election year. Campaign posters will soon multiply across the city. Political rhetoric thickens the air with promises of revival and renewal. Some of it sounds persuasive.

Some of it sounds like bull jive. Against that noise, Jozi My Jozi presents itself as deliberately practical, less interested in slogans than in pavements.

Through its Babize Bonke campaign, the organisation profiles inner city champions in the arts, social development and business. The focus is on individuals who continue
building despite deteriorating infrastructure and economic pressure. Mass participation events, from races to civic activations, draw thousands into the central business district, reframing the area as a site of possibility rather than abandonment.

“After these events, people contact us and say, how can I help? That shows people want to do good,” he said.

Mabusela is realistic about the scale of the challenge. Behavioural change around littering and maintenance requires repetition. 

University chapters at the University of the Witwatersrand and the University of Johannesburg — and soon at Maharishi Invincibility Institute — encourage students to engage in civic projects early. 

Smaller initiatives help informal playgroups formalise as registered early childhood development centres, while digital hubs focused on coding and robotics introduce young people to new skills pathways.

“We shouldn’t think that by speaking to people once, we can change their thinking,” Mabusela added. “We need to continue storytelling. We need to continue implementing projects. Gradually, that will help us drive change.”

Plans are under way to replicate aspects of the model in other metros and cities through a national vehicle referred to as Newco, with Bea Swanepoel moving into the role of its CEO. 

But for now, Mabusela’s focus remains on Johannesburg, strengthening governance structures and embedding systems that can outlast individual personalities.

“One of the greatest things for me is seeing the appreciation from our beneficiaries, when you can see your work materialise,” he said. “We are trying to develop a movement of the people, by the people, doing work on the ground.”

In a city often narrated through its crises, Jozi My Jozi is advancing a steadier argument.

Change, it suggests, is cumulative. 

It is built in partnerships, in maintained bridges, in corridors that feel safer than they did before. It might not shout as loudly as campaign speeches but it is visible to anyone paying attention.