
Johann Botha was a gentle giant of a man, with a voice like warm velvet and thunder wrapped in kindness.
He was a quiet genius who never once made anyone feel small.
He carried greatness so lightly that you never felt his shadow, only his warmth.
In his presence, every soul felt seen, valued, and strangely at home.
My children adored him.
My wife loved him like a brother.
And I… I was blessed to call him my gentle friend.
The kind of friend you find once in a lifetime.
The kind whose name alone can still bring tears rushing uncontrollably down your face, years later.
The kind you reach for in the quiet moments, only to remember he’s no longer there.
The pain is deep.
The pain is raw.
It cuts like it happened yesterday.
They murdered my friend.
I'm weeping like a child.
sowetan.co.za/news/2017-06-0…

English

























