“We could have vanished without a trace… but God gave us a second chance.”
On the night of 17 December 2020, our lives changed forever.
What started as a simple job request from an elderly man led us down a path we could have never imagined. My wife and I are self-employed, and that day we were finishing another project in Empangeni. The elderly caller insisted we meet him in Jozini for urgent work. Trusting his words — and believing he may have been referred by a previous client — we agreed.
We drove into the unknown.
What followed was a terrifying ambush. Directed over the phone, we unknowingly picked up a young man who claimed to be the old man’s grandchild. He joined us in the back seat and within moments, pulled a knife on my wife. We were then ambushed by three more men. Armed, violent, and merciless, they dragged us into the forest. We were beaten for hours, robbed of everything — our phones, the deposits for our clients, our peace, and nearly our lives.
From 7pm to 3am, we endured the nightmare in that forest.
We survived. But just barely.
When we escaped and tried to report the crime, we were dismissed, laughed at, and told to open the case elsewhere. Our trauma was ignored.
That night, we realized something deeper.
We could have disappeared without a trace — and the world would have moved on.
We could have become just another unsolved case, another “RIP” post, another forgotten headline.
But God said “not yet.”
We were given a second chance — and with that came a calling.
That is why we created Missing Person South Africa: Izithunywa Zokugcina (The Messengers of the Last Hope).
We are survivors of something we never saw coming. What started as a simple business call on 17 December 2020 nearly turned into the end of our lives. My wife and I, both self-employed, received a call from an elderly man requesting our services in Jozini. At first, we hesitated — it was far, and something felt off. But he spoke with familiarity, as if he had been referred by someone we’d worked with before. Trusting that, we agreed. That trust almost cost us everything.
We were ambushed in the dark. A young man, pretending to be the old man’s grandchild, entered the back seat with my wife. Not long after, we were surrounded by armed men in a forest. They beat us, held us hostage for hours, and wiped out our accounts. We were left with nothing but fear, trauma, and a second chance at life. No police officer helped. No justice was served. We could have disappeared without a trace, just like many others do every day.
That experience birthed a mission. Today, we run Missing Person South Africa: Izithunywa Zokugcina — a platform dedicated to helping families find their missing loved ones, raising awareness, and creating a network of people who care. We now understand that when someone disappears, time is precious. Every hour matters. We use our pain for purpose, our survival for service.
We are here to be a voice for the voiceless. A light in the darkness. A reminder that not all missing persons are runaways or attention seekers — some are victims. And they deserve to be found. We share stories, post alerts, and walk alongside families because we know the fear, the helplessness, and the miracle of surviving what should have ended us.
This platform is a voice for the voiceless, a light in the dark, and a call to action. We now dedicate our lives to raising awareness, sharing stories, and searching for the missing. We no longer scroll past “missing person” posts — we lead them.
Because we know… what it feels like to almost vanish.
🌍 Our Mission
To be the final voice for the forgotten.
To fight for the missing.
To give families hope and to make sure no one disappears without a trace.
🕯️ What We Do
- Share and boost missing persons cases nationwide
- Build a compassionate, action-driven online community
- Support families emotionally and spiritually
- Educate people on how to respond when a loved one goes missing
We don’t wait until it hits home. We act before it’s too late.
Because we know how it feels to nearly vanish — and be ignored.
This is more than a page.
This is a movement.
This is our second chance — and we will use it to save others.