Goodbye Ufrieda Ho, keeper of Jozi and wordsmith of the people

“Oh, by the way, there is a mouse in your drawer.”

Thirty years later Ufrieda would still laugh at how I leapt to my feet and moved swiftly away from the offending drawer, stumbling towards the door. We were tucked into an icy room next to the air-conditioned IT servers on The Star’s first floor.

As “regional” reporters for Looking North, South, East and West, we were really out of sight and, if possible, out of mind from the more illustrious newsroom. It was my first day at work at Looking South and she sat at the desk next to me, with Shaun Smillie and the late Rodney Victor sharing our cubbyhole.

The mouse wasn’t alive (and was rather more useful than the rodent it was named for) and once that was settled, we started a long friendship that included journalism, cats and food. Or should that be cats, journalism and delectable Chinese food, ordered in Cantonese with delight and precision from various restaurants in Chinatown in Cyrildene? Hot pot, dim sum, chicken feet…

Ufrieda was extraordinary. At one time the queen of cute, loving tiny things like fancy pencils and delicate, intricate origami animals, of which I have a much-loved collection; at another, a hard-nosed reporter and journalist who would, with skill, dexterity and without sentiment, unpack the facts behind a scenario she believed was simply wrong.

Her recent exposé of Oscar Chalupsky’s battles with Discovery Health for full cancer treatment coverage was not only extraordinary for its depth and understanding, but also because at the time she was managing her own cancer treatment.

I always looked for an opportunity to work with Ufrieda, and during my stint as editor of the Saturday Star, she helped turn my concept of looking back at 20 years of democracy with a series named Another Country into amazing human-centred pieces. One diary meeting went something like this:

Me: Let’s go to Potgietersrus (now Mokopane, in Limpopo) and find the family that ensured that every child has access to education, no matter their race. I remember they had to run the gauntlet of the right wing to be able to enter the school.

Ufrieda: But how will we know whether somebody there will remember the story, let alone the family?

Me: Dunno, but let’s try. Somebody will remember.

Off she went into the heart of what was once the land of the right wing, where white families lined up but failed to bar the three black children from the school. She got the story; she also got one of the three children, Nhlanhla Matukane (aged six at the time) and his mother, Phepheyaphi Matukane, to return to the school and retell their story 19 years later. So, she documented trailblazer lives, our Rosa Parks.

Another Country started with the memory of the death of The Star photographer Ken Oostebroek and included a wide range of stories, including interviews with the convicted armed robbers from the State vs Makwanyane and Mchunu case, which overturned the death penalty.

Her love of the city was famous, and without sentiment and with loads of joy she documented the art, the artists and the trailblazer residents who took it upon themselves to reclaim spaces long forgotten and neglected by our city fathers: The Wilds, art under the highway bridges and, of course, her famous moonwalk through Kensington.

Of course, our friendship was more than journalism and intersected in a more personal way when I was desperately looking for a home for two tiny grey kittens, named Pinky and Blacky for the colours of their noses. My elder brother found the two abandoned and starving when he worked in an East Rand industrial area. Ignoring his colleagues who laughed at his efforts to keep the two alive with taunts of “Auntie Pat… with his plastic tit”, the kittens, now adventurous teens, finally needed a home.

Renamed Houngie and Choi, these two lived a life of joy and comfort in the home of Ufrieda and her partner, Shaun Smillie. Over the years Ufrieda shared her joy, fears (when one mysteriously went missing and was found weeks later) and sadness when they died.

There was no end to her writing abilities. In her memoir about growing up Chinese in SA, Paper Sons and Daughters, the opening lines describe a child in a car with a beloved toy. It showed that she saw what we all noticed (but never put into words) and was able to use that to recreate the distracted mind of a young child.

“I lie on the lap of a giant pink teddy bear and stare up at a galaxy of full stops in the perforated canopy of my dad’s old Cortina.”

Perfection.

Ufrieda was complex. Angry about being ill with lung cancer despite living a good life. Angry about her medical care which was confusing and often contradictory. Angry that, as she told me once, she wanted a long life and was given a short life, yet her love for those around her was undiminished.

Ufrieda and Shaun initially shared a secret relationship – when they finally came out, we were all aghast. This relationship deepened and lasted more than 30 years: both constant and full of contradictions.

She writes her tribute to him in Paper Sons and Daughters.

“Shaun, thanks for loving me through this book, listening to confused thinking out loud, my long ramblings, my rages, even the tears, and always urging me on because you know this is the project of my heart.”

Dear Ufrieda, I am sure you are in a place where you have a soft giant pink teddy bear, where you are greeting those who went before you, handing out origami animals, reclaiming the clouds and drinking tea with your beloved father, the fahfee man, the man who fought for his family’s survival, the one you took after, brave and determined. I know I will miss you here. Till we meet again. – Cecilia Russell, semi-retired editor and journalism trainer now working as the commissioning editor for Inter Press Service. She worked for more than 25 years at The Star and Saturday Star, where she worked with Ufrieda Ho.

I have no words to describe my sense of loss at Ufrieda’s passing.

Knowing her since the days of the regional newspapers, she was always inspirational — professional, a brilliant journalist, funny and, most importantly, a real friend.

During my own cancer journey six years ago, Ufrieda would arrive to visit carrying her magic Chinese soup, which she vowed would cure me. As it turns out, I was cured, and we often joked afterwards that we should start marketing it as a guaranteed cure.

Little did we know that six years later she would succumb to this terrible illness herself.

A group of us old colleagues would often meet for lunch with Shirley Woodgate until her passing a few years ago, maintaining our strong bonds of friendship through food — something that has always been important to our group. We would try different restaurants: Italian ones from my suggestions and Chinese ones from hers. On cold winter nights we would gather for hot pot dinners in little-known upstairs restaurants in Derrick Avenue, Cyrildene, enjoying delicious new tastes and plenty of laughter.

Ufrieda’s legacy remains not only in journalism but also in her community work. She organised the Moon Walks in Kensington to show the positive side of the suburb — not only the crime, water cuts and electricity outages that so often dominate the narrative. She reignited pride in the suburb and gave hope to people who were feeling despondent about living there. She united residents across the community, including the newly established Ethiopian community that has made Kensington home.

You have no idea how much those walks meant to people. I only wish you were here to read the many messages and comments about the difference you made. So passionate are residents about your impact that they have dedicated a Moon Walk in your honour on 21 March.

Ufrieda, I am privileged to have known you and to have been part of your life – in sickness and in health. I walked this journey with you from the time you were diagnosed just over a year ago. The last few months were the hardest, as none of us knew what the prognosis would be. We battled through difficult medical decisions and better ones, and I was privileged to visit you in hospital in your final days and to see you just hours before you passed.

Your last words to me, as I left that day – not knowing it would be the final time I would see you – were: “Look after Shaun for me. He is not taking this well.”

I will honour the promise I made to you.

Rest in peace my beautiful friend. You have no idea how much you will be missed. Your legacy will never be forgotten. – Anna Cox, journalist and colleague

Ufrieda’s presence had a profound impact on everyone she came into contact with. It was defined by deep care, genuine interest and a real sense of connection. There was nothing superficial about her, she carried a depth of character and a sincere love for people.

How do we navigate a world without her? Her gift for holding people together through such genuine love and compassion was so rare.

We have lost something extraordinary – a rarity, a gift we may never fully appreciate, yet one that was expressed in the simplest and purest ways: love, kindness and genuine care.

If you were in her orbit, you mattered to her. You had value because she saw you and valued you so completely. It didn’t matter whether you were a petrol attendant, a waitress she might never see again, or a lifelong friend. That was Ufrieda’s gift to the world.

In that way, her presence continues through the compassion she showed us and in the way she taught us, by example, how to treat one another. – Melanie Feris, friend and newsroom colleague

“I have a story for you.” This is often how many of my conversations with Ufrieda would start. Not unexpected from a freelance journalist but what would follow would be completely unexpected and original. “I want to tell the story of an apple,” she once pitched, following it up with a detailed explanation of what the journey of an apple – from farm, to market, to table – could tell you about a city, its people, the cost of living…

This was Ufrieda’s gift, she didn’t just look at the world around her, she really saw it. She understood instinctively that stories are never really just about events or institutions or statistics but about people, their contradictions, their dignity, their small triumphs and quiet griefs.

I often wondered why Ufrieda chose to be a freelancer for most of her career. Any number of newsrooms would (and probably tried to) snap her up. I now know it gave her the freedom to choose the stories she told, how she practised her craft… and to have a guilt-free nap in the afternoon.

Ufrieda listened closely. Whether you were the president or a child sharing their love of Japanese anime. She noticed the small details that revealed the character behind the masks we wear. She encouraged you to explore your interests – it did not matter whether that interest was in skulls or daisies. You always left her space feeling heard. Like you mattered. I hope she felt the same from me.

Conversations with Ufrieda were never short. But neither were they rambling. They were always thought-provoking and challenging.

During our last conversation while she lay in hospital talking about her diagnosis, peppered with hope and simmering with anger, she stated: “When I get to the other side, I have some fucking questions.”

Me too, Ufrieda. Me too. – Jillian Green, friend, colleague and Daily Maverick Editor-in-Chief

In life, there are those people that you meet and just know that this is a once-in-a-lifetime force of a person. Ufrieda was one of those people whose energy, kindness, big heart, ever-present twinkle in her eye and sheer chutzpah blew me away everytime I spoke with her.

The first time I met her was through her writing, which was just unmistakably human and compassionate and coloured with her drive for social justice, and I instantly connected with her. Having known and worked with her is such an honour and privilege that I will always treasure.

This loss is one that will be felt for a very long time to come. She was just absolutely wonderful and so very special. The world was a better place for having had her in it, and we are poorer now that she has left. Peace be the journey, dear comrade, I will miss your cheerful rainbow, heart, flower and random animal emojis in my messages.

Lots of love, Zukiswa Pikoli, Managing Editor, Maverick Citizen (Daily Maverick)

“There is no easy way to write what I write next. I know that receiving this means you also have to hold a heavy thing in your heart. In December 2024, I received a shock diagnosis of lung cancer...”

That was the message I got from my dear friend Ufrieda Ho a couple of weeks ago. The next few minutes were a total blur. I was numb. What do you say when a friend tells you they have a terminal illness and only have a few days left? How do you even react when your friend says goodbye in so many words?

Uffie was an AMAZING person. Warm, kind, witty, smart, a gifted journalist, a deep thinker, and conscious about protecting the environment, she stood for justice. She was not afraid to speak her mind. She was also a cat lover. She took lots of photos... all the time. She was the kind of person to live in the moment. That was Uffie.

On Monday morning I got the news I was dreading. Uffie left us. That is not the kind of news to get on a Monday morning. Even if she had prepared us, the news was devastating.

I will miss you, Uffie... Rest now, you were so tired, and I know that while you have left your diseased body, your soul is free and happy. – Mapie Mhlangu, Editor-in-Chief, Newzroom Afrika

Farewell my Ufi Ufi. From newsroom buddies to the most fabulous outings and lunches. You were my kinda gal – artistic, fun, a foodie, a kitty lover and most of all, kind. I’ll never forget the hug you gave me at Johnny Hogg’s birthday party. Unmasked at the height of Covid as if it was our last meeting. You pulled out a little art piece from your pocket and asked me if John would like it. We both had a giggle. Condolences to Shaun Smillie, Cecilia Russell, Anna Cox and Melanie Feris, family and friends. Fly with the angels into the arms of our beloved Shirley Woodgate. Newsroom buddies for life. We will miss you. – Sumi Cruz, former colleague at The Star

Comrade Ufrieda. You touched the lives of so many of us at TAC. For over a decade you stood with us, side by side, a true comrade in the struggle for a health system that actually cares and works for us. Your meticulous, well written, caring stories helped us expose the impact of a broken healthcare system across countless communities in the country. Together we listened to the people of the Free State give emotion-filled pleas, full of determination and intent, and you helped us to unmask a provincial healthcare system in peril. You walked with us as we built Ritshidze, uncovering the extent of the crisis in our clinics, telling people’s stories with such power and dignity.

You told us how hearing the voices of the comrades was a powerful reminder of action, faith, activism and ways to look on darkness, and not look away. You were a teacher too. You taught us that everyone has a story to tell.

You taught us that no one story is more serious than another, that they stand as separate experiences but reflect the burden of healthcare failure that people carry collectively. You taught our comrades embedded in communities how to ask questions with curiosity and compassion, how to be journalists. Skills they’ll have for life.

Comrade, we won’t forget how you really listened and cared, to us and our communities. And the little things like the memory of you bringing origami gifts, before we got stuck into holding duty bearers’ feet to the fire, or sitting at the back of the congress helping to hurriedly write award scripts that hadn’t been got to, or your calls and concern amid an unprecedented funding crisis. Yours was a life well lived. We will miss you. – Anele Yawa and Lotti Rutter, of the Treatment Action Campaign and Ritshidze

The first shock for me was receiving the news that Ufrieda was sick, very sick. Ufrieda, the bringer of love, life, joy and energy? Ufrieda, the most alive, professional, empathetic, kindest, hardworking journalist I have ever had the honour of working with? Ufrieda, who never said no to doing a story?

I first met her in The Star newsroom in the 90s, an earnest, always smiling journalist with a small ego and a big heart. Our paths crossed many times over the 30 or so years as she told the story of our country in ways very few have done. Going through the close to 300 stories she produced for Daily Maverick and Spotlight alone, you can only marvel at her ability to tackle any subject and make it accessible, impactful and to connect with her readers in a way very few can.

She could tackle the most complex health story and turn it into something that had real impact. She treated her subjects who shared their stories of pain and loss with so much empathy and love that it poured from her stories. There are many stories to share, and gathering reflections from friends (some of whom were also colleagues) is one small way Marcus Low and I hoped to pay tribute to this force of humanity.

A month ago, she sent me this WhatsApp: “Thank you with my grateful heart. I’m scared and sad. But it’s love and compassion and kindness and grace, yours too, that is making this dark journey also one filled with light and humanity. The next is uncertain, but I am fighting on, And I know I'm not alone. Love to you, Dankie, Dankie...❤️❤️❤️”

Fly to the light, you beautiful human – our people, our animals, our earth, our craft and our country are poorer without you. – Anso Thom, fellow traveller and journalist colleague

In the decade or so that I worked with Ufrieda Ho, she was always kind, always friendly, always willing to take on a story, and though the consequences of government dysfunction sometimes got her down, she never wavered from her commitment to telling people’s stories with sensitivity and dignity, especially the stories of those on the margins of our society. She was a reliable, old-school journalist with all the right values – what made her work stand out was her exceptional compassion and humanity. That basic kindness and decency also made her just an all-round lovely person. It was a privilege for me to know and work with you. Rest in peace Ufrieda. You were one of the really good ones.” – Marcus Low, Editor of Spotlight

Ufrieda enriched the South African literary landscape with her uniquely empathetic and insightful journalism as well as the 2011 publication of her acclaimed memoir, Paper Sons and Daughters. With her passing, we have all lost a true friend of stories and books, and we will miss Ufrieda’s gentle presence and regular support at book launches. The Pan Macmillan team extends its deepest condolences to her loved ones. – Andrea Nattrass, publisher at Pan Macmillan South Africa

Several things struck me about Ufrieda. She understood the urgency and often life-threatening nature of the issues we dealt with, and she worked with speed. But she never sacrificed thoroughness of journalistic ethics and integrity for urgency.

She was passionate and principled, but didn’t wear her beliefs in justice on her sleeve, she just practised them in her craft. In the health sector, she was trusted by the vulnerable people she interacted with, and sympathised with them, but she always sought to give the transgressors a voice to explain their misdeeds.

Latterly I worked with Ufrieda on a wider range of issues to do with local activism, and there I saw a different part of her: her love and joy in community, her free spirit, a bit of her dreams. I didn’t know she was ill with a life-threatening disease. I’m so sorry now that I didn’t join the monthly “full moon walk” she invited me to in late 2025

Read more: The Night Walkers

There’s a lesson there. Love your friends, while you can. They may not be here tomorrow. – Mark Heywood, social justice activist, founding editor of Maverick Citizen

Everyone at SECTION27 was so saddened to hear of Ufrieda’s passing. We will miss Ufrieda’s excellent health and social justice journalism and her interest in the people behind the stories she told so well. Her recent coverage of the USAid cuts and the various problems in Gauteng health, from cancer care to health worker payment issues, brought painful realities into the public eye. Ufrieda made sure that she really understood what a person was saying, and she got the best out of her interviewees. Her dedication and her warmth will be sorely missed. – Sasha Stevenson, Executive Director, SECTION27

The late Ufrieda Ho. The wordsmith and daughter of Johannesburg, Ufrieda Ho, passed away this week. The city will miss her.

“Ufrieda was an award-winning journalist and writer with a particular passion for all things ‘Heritage’. She was Johannesburg born and bred and wrote many heritage-themed articles about the city. As a person, Ufrieda was effervescent, curious, encouraging and empathetic – always keen to know about the person she was engaging with with,” said the Johannesburg Heritage Foundation in tribute.

Johannesburg In Your Pocket Publisher Laurice Taitz-Buntman said: “Ufried lived with an uncommon kindness – she cared deeply, listened closely, and generously made space for others. Warmth seemed to radiate from her. Some of you will remember the magical Moonrise Walk in Kensington last year – one of those quiet, luminous evenings that captured the spirit of the city and the people in it. She was endlessly curious about the world and about others.” Hamba Kahle, Ufrieda. With love from your friends at the Daily Maverick. We send love and light to her partner Shaun Smillie, who is also our colleague. – Ferial Haffajee, Associate Editor at Daily Maverick and Johannesburg Bureau Editor

*A remembrance walk and get-together in honour of Ufrieda will be held on Saturday, 21 March at 7pm. Meet at the corner of Highlands and London Roads in Kensington and join the walk up Langerman Kop. Bring along bright clothes, warm hearts and your favourite Ufrieda story or experience. DM