By Saul Molobi
In this edited version of an Otter transcript of my interview with Nonn Botha (NB) for 101.9 Chai FM, she reflects on her multicultural upbringing, early exposure to jazz through her activist uncles, and the joy she discovered in making people smile through music, which ultimately led her into broadcasting. She traces her journey from Radio Pick n Pay to Kaya FM, Joy of Jazz, 702 and Chai FM, sharing defining moments such as being moved to tears before introducing Hugh Masekela after becoming a new mother, and an embarrassing on-air moment where she forgot to switch off her mic. She emphasises humility, authenticity, and storytelling as the core of broadcasting, while expressing concern over “reckless communication” in unregulated podcasts and the absence of developmental programming on South African radio. Passionate about preserving culture, uplifting local musicians and mentoring young voices, she describes her forthcoming book, My Love Letter to Radio, as a tribute to listeners, colleagues and the platform that carried her through personal grief and growth.
PART ONE
SM: I’m hosting a special guest tonight – someone I’ve always looked up to from day one, from the first time I heard her voice over the radio. I’ve seen her at several jazz shows, particularly the Joy of Jazz, and trust me, every artist who played after she introduced them – I just fell in love with them because of her. I am now connecting with her telephonically. Allow me to welcome the princess of the airwaves – none other than Nonn Botha. Hello, Nonn.
NB: What a magical introduction, thank you so much. I guess I can say it’s good to be back home on Chai FM.
SM: You are welcome. And what you don’t know is that even the Station Manager, Kathy Kaler, kept asking me, “When are you featuring her?” I kept saying, “Soon – very, very soon.” They really miss you around here.
NB: I’m so happy to hear that. I was actually speaking to Kahy a few days ago because I was so excited that you invited me. Thank you, because you know I love your show so much – it really is a musical journey.
SM: Tonight it’s about you. Please tell our listeners, who is Nonn Botha?
NB: I was born in Alex, and at the age of five I went to live with my maternal family in the Vaal, in Evaton. My friends would say, “Oh Nonn, you’re like a soda, you’re like tonic,” because I’ve been blessed with so much in terms of background. On my maternal side my grandmother’s father is actually Jewish, so often I’d be like a kid in a candy store asking questions about my heritage. I’m a melting pot of so many cultures. I grew up with jazz – I have about seven uncles and I was the first great-grandchild and first grandchild, so I was spoiled.
SM: No wonder you are always so stylish! In the townships, if someone dresses sharply, they say “Jewish,” meaning stylish – and in your case, you are literally Jewish.
NB: (laughs) Yes! I grew up with so much music and so much love and laughter. I grew up with the likes of Miles Davis and Herbie Hancock, and at home I grew up with Ma’am…it was really a house filled with music and food.
SM: And then your transition into radio presenting and music – take us there.
NB: In the past, South Africa didn’t have much to smile about. I was raised in a home aware of the injustices of the past, and my uncles were activists. I’d see them angry during the week, but on Sunday afternoons, when they put on the record while polishing their shoes, they would smile. I thought to myself: when I grow up, I want to make people smile — and I want to do it through music. I thought I would sing, but I was told I don’t have a great singing voice.
SM: You’re just like me – failed musicians! That’s why we end up presenting and writing about music.
NB: (laughs) I actually play the trumpet. I’m not confident enough yet, but you’ll see me soon – the musician in me refuses to say I’ve failed.
SM: So how did you then end up in broadcasting formally?
NB: I wanted to find out what it takes to be a broadcaster. Someone once told me, “You have to be a teacher.” I said no. Then I thought maybe I’d study law. But when I got to Standard 10 – Grade 11 – I decided I wanted to study advertising. I wanted my words on billboards. So I went to AAA School of Advertising and studied to be a copywriter. While I was there, someone working at Radio Pick n Pay told me I had a great voice and should translate. That’s how I started – doing the morning show at Radio Pick n Pay, which was like an internal audio newsletter.
SM: And from there you found yourself at Kaya FM?
NB: Yes. After Pick n Pay, I joined Kaya FM to focus on the music I grew up listening to and curate a show. I spent nine and a half years at Kaya, when we were still in Newtown – when it was the cultural hub of Johannesburg. There were live music venues everywhere: Niki’s Oasis, Shivava, Sophiatown, Shikisha – you could immerse yourself in culture.
SM: And then came Joy of Jazz, where you became an anchor voice on stage…
NB: Yes. Joy of Jazz called me to MC. And one of my favourite elders I’ve had the pleasure of introducing is Abdullah Ibrahim – the grace he commands even backstage, the discipline, the meditation before a show – it is powerful. Growing up listening to him and then introducing him was one of the most humbling experiences of my career.
SM: That must have been a powerful moment for you – not only as a broadcaster, but as someone who grew up with this music. What other such moments shaped you as a presenter?
NB: Growing up listening to someone and then seeing them in person – and witnessing the humility they carry – is profoundly grounding. I also saw how younger jazz artists respond when legends walk backstage. If someone was whispering or out of focus, the whole room shifts the minute an elder walks in. As an MC I’m backstage two hours before; I have to own the room, meditate and pray so that I deliver the right energy in my intro.
SM: Let’s talk about the craft itself. What message would you give to young people who dream of going into broadcasting? What are the pitfalls and opportunities?
NB: More than anything, broadcasters today need to recharge the art of storytelling. In this age of artificial intelligence, there is too much mimicking – trying to duplicate someone else’s voice, someone else’s style. I always tell young people I mentor: it’s beautiful to admire others, but your voice is unique. Whether your show is 30 minutes or an hour — your authenticity is your power.
NB (continues): I consider myself a fighter for South African jazz. After Kaya, I went to 702 where I had another incredible nine years, and I also came to Chai FM to learn news reading, thanks to Cathy and the team. It’s important to know that your voice matters. Be humble, have a teachable spirit. No one wants to work with arrogance – I’ve seen very arrogant people break up teams. If you are not teachable, you can’t grow.
SM: Humility is a big lesson for new presenters.
NB: Absolutely. I once went to Bree Street Taxi Rank to buy cheques, and a taxi driver recognised me. I won’t lie – I didn’t expect that a taxi driver listens to 702 or Kaya FM. We assume they only listen to other formats, but he said my payoff line, word for word. It reminded me that your audience is wider than you imagine – people connect with your honesty.
SM: And in your journey, besides Abdullah Ibrahim, is there another moment in your career that stands out, that still gives you goosebumps?
NB: Yes, with Bra Hugh Masekela. This was just after I’d had my daughter, who’s now 19. In our culture, after giving birth you’re not supposed to leave home for four months. This was my very first outing after that period. Kaya FM told me I had to go MC at Birchwood for the “Jazz Comes Alive” evenings. I was nervous, biting my nails backstage. There was also a young lady performing a song called Take Me to Soweto. I loved the musical father–daughter energy between them.
Then Bra Hugh walked in. I started crying – because here I was, introducing a man I grew up listening to, the voice of Africa, our cultural ambassador. And what he gave me was tough love. He said, “You’re the MC, right? So get it together.” In that moment he became human to me – not just a legend – but a father figure holding me accountable to the calling.
SM: That’s a beautiful moment. You triggered something earlier: you said you’re writing a book, “My Love Letter to Radio”. Tell me about it.
NB: Yes, “My Love Letter to Radio”. In it I show that radio raised me, carried me. I still get star-struck. The people I grew up listening to, I eventually worked with – Brenda Mntambo, Alex Jay, Lawrence Dube – they became colleagues and friends. I wrote this book to give thanks to those who made it possible for me to become a broadcaster, but also to listeners who carried me in moments they didn’t know I was hurting.
In 2013, when I lost my son, it was difficult to stay at home. I needed three hours of “my normal,” which was to do my show. Listeners called in, not knowing the depth of my pain, but they lifted me through songs, prayer, presence. So the book is gratitude because I cannot thank every listener I’ve ever touched, but I can honour them through the pages.
SM: Earlier you shared powerful moments of pride – but let me flip it: what was your most embarrassing moment on radio?
NB: (laughs) My most embarrassing radio moment was at Radio Pick n Pay. I called my aunt – we were chatting – and I didn’t realise I hadn’t switched the mic off. My colleague came running from the producer’s booth: “Your mic!” Oh! I was mortified. That was the most embarrassing moment ever.
SM: (laughs) We’ve all been there. Now tell our listeners how they can follow you online – your social media handles.
NB: I’m also on TikTok – although I don’t dance as much as I used to! On TikTok I am “dinonza” – D I N N O N Z A. On Instagram, X (formerly Twitter), and Facebook I am “Nonn Botha” – N O N N B O T H A.
SM: And the Sunday event – share the details with us.
NB: Yes – Soweto has a “Festival of Soul” happening on the 2nd of November, but this Sunday, the 26th of October, myself and two other DJs will be at News Café, Southgate. I’ll be playing the Johnny Hathaways, my jazz, my Diane Reeves, my Bra Hugh, Ma’am Dorothy Masuku – that’s where we’ll be this Sunday: News Café, Southgate.
SM: Wonderful. Now – recommend one song I can play to close the first part of our interview. The one that speaks to you the most, that caresses your soul, that warms your heart.
NB: (laughs) You are getting me into trouble because my musician friends will say, “I thought you loved my song the most!” But yes — Ma’am Dorothy Masuka, “Teya Teya”. The second one is Nina Simone’s “Feeling good”.
SM: Beautiful choice. I’ll start with Mam Masuka because she’s also one of my favourites.
PART TWO
TECHNOLOGY & THE FUTURE OF BROADCASTING
SM: Before I play it, I want to talk briefly about technology. Broadcasting has changed with podcasts and vodcasts. Everyone is now a broadcaster. Some say this is good for democracy; others say it’s weakening the craft. What’s your take?
NB: It’s imperative that voices are amplified — but with your voice comes responsibility. I recently wrote in the Citizen newspaper that not everyone understands this responsibility. The explosion of podcasts has created what I call reckless communication. We should build when we speak — not break.
There were young people who made very hurtful comments about the coloured community. At first I said, “They are young, someone will call them to order,” because all of us have elders who guide us. But their apology was appalling — it lacked accountability. I first said they must be cancelled — but my elders said, “No, they must learn.” We must turn moments of harm into teachable moments. We need a form of regulation for podcasting, the way BCCSA regulates radio.
SM: So, more platforms — but also more responsibility.
NB: Yes. We should not go backwards as a society. I grew up knowing I belong to different cultures. One Christmas I’d be on my maternal side, the next on my paternal side. Broadcasting should reflect that unity. We are different, but human first.
THE STATE OF BROADCASTING IN SOUTH AFRICA
SM: How do you feel about the state of the broadcast industry in South Africa – especially compared to the rest of the world?
NB: South Africa still has a unique advantage. Radio here reaches both the urban listener and the gogo in the rural village – same platform, same immediacy. We still have room to grow, but the challenge is leadership. We have lazy programme managers – people will be angry that I’m saying it, but it’s true. A programme manager can use 24 hours to educate, uplift, debate, empower. Instead, we are seeing shows that thrive on making fun of people’s pain.
Why are there no shows reigniting the entrepreneurial spirit among South Africans? Why are we not teaching about AI? Why are we not using radio to teach financial literacy, health, culture, language, reading? Instead we are drifting backwards. If I were at any broadcasting channel’s programming – a major clean-up was to happen.
And music – our broadcasters do not give enough airplay to our own musicians, especially those who communicate our culture and identity. I was fortunate: Kaya and 702 allowed me to play a jazz song on Saturday, even if it meant playing something upbeat next to it. But many new artists are locked out – especially our independent youth.
NB (continues): I was invited to speak to young people at the Hip Hop Museum – they asked, “Why is it so difficult to submit music to radio?” I had to tell them: some don’t even know they must license their music. SAMRO, SAMPRA, RISA – these bodies must go into schools and educate artists early. If your music isn’t registered, a station legally cannot play it. Education must precede opportunity.
SM: You’ve spoken about the gaps and lost opportunities – but what would healing and growth in South African broadcasting look like?
NB: Healing would look like broadcasting that teaches again. Where a person doesn’t just tune in for noise, but for nourishment. We need to stop glorifying trauma – there is even a whole television channel broadcasting people’s pain. We need programming that rebuilds the spirit of South Africans. We should be teaching skills, values, awareness – reminding people of who we are.
We also need intergenerational dialogue. Our kids listen to Cardi B, which is fine – but they should also know Mama Miriam Makeba. Look at Herbie Hancock – he recorded with Pink. That is what I call cultural cross-pollination. Our airwaves could be the bridge where heritage and modernity meet.
SM: You’re saying radio should act as a cultural archive and a cultural classroom at the same time?
NB: Yes, because radio still has power. Unlike the West, where radio is shrinking, in South Africa it still speaks to the grandmother in the village and the graduate in a Sandton office at the same time. That is a miracle platform – but we are not using it to its fullest capacity.
SM: You once mentioned that if you were a programme manager for a broadcaster, you would do a “clean-up.” What would that look like?
NB: I would start by re-educating broadcasters about service – because radio is a service to the listener. Then I would reintroduce music education, creative economy education, youth mentorship slots, storytelling, African literature features, live sessions, listener tributes, behind-the-song segments. I would re-centre South African musicians. And I would pair presenters with specialists when tackling psychological or community issues – not make presenters pseudo-therapists. Broadcasting must heal, not harm.
FINAL SECTION: HER BOOK & PERSONAL JOURNEY
SM: Let’s return to your book: My Love Letter to Radio. What inspired you to start writing it?
NB: Because radio truly raised me. It carried me through grief, celebration, silence, and rebirth. I worked with people I grew up admiring – the likes of Bertha Mkhize, Alex Jay, Lawrence Dube. They became mentors, friends, family. And my listeners – they became my unseen circle of guardians. I cannot go door to door thanking them, but I can immortalise the gratitude in a book.
When I lost my son in 2013, it was radio that gave me breath again. I went back on air because I needed three hours of familiar light. Listeners didn’t know what I was carrying – but their warmth carried me without their knowledge. So this book is also for them — the voices that lifted me through the speakers.
SM: That is deeply moving. And powerful. Thank you for sharing that part of yourself with us.
NB: Thank you for giving me the space – this kind of platform is rare now, where a conversation can breathe.
SM: Before we close, I want to circle back to something you touched on earlier – identity and unity. You said you grew up belonging to more than one cultural space. How has that shaped your worldview as a broadcaster?
NB: It shaped me completely. I grew up with my mother being a Motswana. One Christmas I would be on my maternal side, the next on my paternal side, moving through cultures like someone carrying two passports of belonging. That’s why I speak the way I speak – I know our humanity is layered. And that is why I feel so strongly that broadcasting must build rather than divide. We have come too far to be going backwards into tribal edges.
SM: That is a powerful grounding. Now, as radio continues to evolve, and as technology changes how people consume audio – how do you personally wish to show up going forward?
NB: I want to remain a custodian of storytelling – not a participant in chaos. Whether through radio, narration, MC’ing, or podcasts, my commitment is to remind people of who we are. I want to mentor young voices, advocate for South African music, and protect the dignity of the stories we tell about ourselves.
SM: A beautiful mission. As we close our conversation – what final word would you like to leave with young aspirant broadcasters listening right now?
NB: Know your story. Know your voice. Be humble. Have a teachable spirit. And understand that your gift is not for ego – it is service. God gave us a voice not to be loud, but to be light. Be a student of people, a student of culture, and a student of grace. Broadcasting will only honour you if you honour it first.
SM: Thank you for that wisdom and thank you for sharing this time with us. My listeners are thrilled – they have missed you and tonight you reminded them why.
NB: Thank you so much for having me and thank you to the listeners for receiving me with warmth, always.
SM: We will definitely invite you again – and we will also look forward to the launch of your book, My Love Letter to Radio, which we will celebrate on World Radio Day. Before we go – as promised, I will now play your chosen closing song: the legendary Ma’am Dorothy Masuka’s “Teya Teya”.
NB: Perfect, that song reminds me of Sunday afternoons at home, full of love and memory.
SM: And with that, we close this inspiring conversation. Thank you for joining us and goodnight to you, Nonn.
NB: Goodnight and thank you so much.
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To catch Part One of this interview live, tune into 101.9 Chai FM or stream live from www.chaifm.com on Sunday from 17:00 to 20:00