Meet Our Founder

MEET LUNGILE BUHALE

I’m a creative strategist, storyteller and the founder of Friends in the Making — an events company built around one simple belief: making friends should be an experience.

I’ve spent my career creating ideas that bring people together. Friends in the Making is the idea that became personal.

About
Lungi

Who is the founder and why the story matters

I’m a creative strategist, storyteller and experience builder. Over the years, I’ve worked across brands, campaigns, communications and experiences, always with one thing at the centre: creating ideas that make people feel something.

Friends in the Making brings all of that together in a way that feels deeply personal to me. I’ve always been fascinated by people, connection and the stories we create with one another, and I wanted to build experiences that make meeting new people feel less intimidating and a lot more fun.

Because I know how powerful a well designed experience can be. It can change your mood, introduce you to someone you never would have met, give you a story to tell, or even become the beginning of a friendship.

That’s what I’m interested in making: experiences that leave people with more than just a good time.

My goal is to take Friends in the Making beyond Johannesburg, creating experiences in different cities and eventually building a brand people know as the place to go when they want to meet people, try something new and make a friend.

Where I am taking this

I’ve spent eight years teaching my son what love should look like, but recently I realised there’s one kind of love he has never seen me receive. Romantic love. He’s never seen me get butterflies over someone, be nervous before a date, be someone’s girlfriend, someone’s person, or simply be a woman who is deeply loved. And somehow, that realisation made me emotional. Not because I think our family is incomplete without a man. It isn’t. But because there is a whole part of me that exists outside of being his mother, and one day, I hope he gets to see her too. I hope he gets to see me loved without feeling like he’s losing me. I hope he gets to watch his mother be chosen, cared for, held, kissed, laughed with and loved deeply. And when that day comes, I hope we all take our time finding our new rhythm. Because maybe one day, after eight years of teaching my son what love should look like, he gets to watch someone teach me. 🤍

Future husband, whenever you’re coming, I hope you’re gentle with both of us.

I had posted this and deleted it. And today I felt like it needed to live digitally.
I think I got in my head about whether I should have shared it at all.

Because this is actually where I am right now.
I’m in a season where I don’t always feel like myself. I don’t always know how to explain what I’m carrying, and sometimes I think I’ve become very good at looking okay when I’m not.

I’m also learning that having a difficult life season doesn’t mean I have to stop living until everything is fixed.
So, I’m leaving this here

P.S. I know the sound is not great. 😭 I know I need a new phone or better microphones. Until that happens, this is the best I can do. 🤍

A day of alot of firsts and all glad to be experiencing it with @visitgauteng

#rugby #jozyjozi #springboks

Just me and and my girls somewhere in the South of France (West Rand,South Africa 😂).

I wonder what it’s actually like to date me. 😂

Because I’m a walking contradiction.

I’m independent but I want to be taken care of. I notice everything but sometimes overthink what I notice. I want consistency, softness, affection, reassurance… and apparently ice cream when I’m angry. 😂

Anyway, consider this a little user manual.

If you’ve ever thought, “I’m actually not that complicated, I just need to feel understood,” this one is for you too. 🤍

Things I think about when I think about my future partner 🤍

Maybe my digital footprint was never meant to be a complete record of my life.

I’ve realised I’m much braver at documenting what hurts than I am at documenting what makes me happy. And I’m not sure why yet.

Maybe I’m still learning that happiness doesn’t become less real because I didn’t post it.

But I also don’t want my story online to become a collection of everything that broke me, while the things that made me feel alive remain invisible.

So, I’m thinking about what it means to let myself be seen in joy too. 🤎

#LungiHonest #FuturePartnerDiary #DearFuturePartner

I was considered.
I was chosen.
I was seen.

All components of a very good day. Appreciative of the people that still choose me when I’m not sure if I’m with being chosen. I’m blessed and I live a full abundant life. These are moments I choose to cherish because I feel most loved and alive.

2006 vs 2026

My cousin @lebsk13 sent me this picture while I was on a call this week.

I caught one glance, laughed, and immediately felt personally attacked. 😂 Thankfully I had to stay focused on the conversation, so I didn’t have enough time to fully process the emotional damage.

Today, I visited my late aunt’s house and found myself standing in front of the same wall. It felt wrong not to recreate the photo.

Twenty years is such a strange thing. As children, we’re desperate to grow up. Then one day, someone sends you a photo from your childhood, and you realize the person you were dreaming of becoming is already here.

The wall barely changed. I did.

Somewhere between these two photos were school mornings, big dreams, heartbreak, laughter, loss, healing, and so many ordinary days that quietly shaped me. You never really notice yourself changing while it’s happening. Then one old photo reminds you that time has been doing its work all along.

Here’s to the little girl in pink flowers… she had no idea what was waiting for her. ❤️

I was scrolling through my camera roll when I realised something.

There are so many photos from 2021 that never made it onto this account. Some were posted on old profiles, some I always meant to share, and others somehow got left behind.

It made me think about something I’d never considered before.

One day, my children might scroll through my Instagram to learn a little about who their mom was. Not just through the big milestones, but through the ordinary moments too.

If that day ever comes, I don’t want them to think my life was only made up of the moments I chose to post. I want them to know about the road trips, the birthdays, the friendships, the outfits I loved, the laughter, the quiet days, and all the little moments that made up our life.

So I’m starting here.

2021.

My last year in my twenties.

Twenty photos I never got to post.

Photos for my children to keep. 🤍

I felt free.

This photo reminds me of a season where I was becoming more comfortable with myself. I was learning to celebrate my body instead of constantly trying to change it. Looking back, that’s a lesson I’m proud to carry with me.

Say yes to the adventure.

This trip reminded me that some of life’s best memories begin with a simple invitation. Not every person you meet will stay in your life forever, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t meant to be part of your story. Be grateful for the people who add joy to your journey, even if it’s only for a chapter.

This season looked good on me.

Looking back, I remember feeling confident, grateful, and proud of the life I was building. Those feelings are worth remembering just as much as the photo itself.

I loved the body I was in.

This was probably the fullest my body had ever been, and instead of trying to shrink myself, I remember enjoying it. Looking back, I’m proud that there was a season where I appreciated my body exactly as it was. I hope you learn to do the same.

I loved getting dressed.

It was never about impressing anyone. It was about expressing myself. Clothes have always been one of the ways I celebrated who I was.

The ordinary days mattered too.

Some of my favourite memories weren’t holidays or birthdays. They were slo

I’ve always believed our words create the home our hearts live in.

For a long time, I prayed for a kind, loving, emotionally available man. But on my birthday, while writing letters to my future self, I realised something that made me pause.

The way I spoke about men didn’t sound like someone who believed that prayer could be answered.

That was a difficult truth to sit with.

This isn’t about pretending hurt never happened or ignoring the realities many women face. It’s about refusing to let disappointment become the only language I know.

So this is my birthday gift to myself.

For the next 12 months, I’m choosing to become more intentional with my words. About myself. About love. About men. I want my words to reflect the future I’m praying for, not just the past I’ve survived.

Here’s to meeting every new season from a place of wholeness. 🤍

#lungihonest #myfuturepartner

4 July 2026. 🤍

Yesterday I spent my birthday by myself.

I took myself out on a solo date and sat there for almost four hours. I journaled, listened to music, people watched, ate good food and just… existed.

And I don’t know how else to explain it other than to say I felt really happy.

Not because something amazing happened.
Not because everything in my life is perfect.

I was just happy.

It was also the first birthday in almost 20 years that I’ve spent alone.

If you had told a younger version of me that this is how I’d spend my birthday, she would’ve cried.

Yesterday, I chose it.

I think it was the kind of exposure therapy I didn’t know I needed. To learn that being alone isn’t always loneliness. Sometimes it’s peace.

It was such a beautiful, surreal and wholesome evening.

Happy 34 to me. 🤍

34. 🤍

I’m grateful I made it here.

I don’t know everything this year will bring, but I hope it brings more peace than pressure, more courage than fear, and more moments that remind me why I never gave up.

Happy birthday to me.

Soft since 1992

#lungihonest

Before I turn 34 tomorrow, I wanted to write down the things I never want to forget. Not the highlights. Not the milestones. The lessons. The ones that came from losing money, losing certainty, losing a version of love I thought I wanted, and slowly finding my way back to myself.

Every birthday has always been about celebrating another year. This one feels different. I didn’t want to rush into 34 without first acknowledging the woman 33 asked me to become. The woman who learned what safety feels like, who discovered that her body deserves reverence, who realised that worth survives loss, and who kept showing up even when life looked nothing like she imagined.

I’ve always felt things deeply. For a long time, I thought that was something I needed to fix. I thought I needed thicker skin, fewer tears, less hope. But this year taught me that my softness has never been the problem. It’s the reason I love so deeply, write so honestly, and keep believing in people even after disappointment. I don’t want to harden just because life has been hard.

I’m not a poet. I don’t sing. I can’t dance to save my life. But I have words, and they’ve always been how I make sense of my life. Thank you for reading this little piece of my heart, and for witnessing another year of my becoming. 🤎

Soft since 1992.

I turn 34 in a couple of days, and I think I finally understand why I want to spend my birthday alone.

Not because I’m lonely. Not because I don’t have people who love me. But because this year asked so much of me that I don’t think I’ve stopped long enough to sit with everything it’s been trying to teach me.

Thirty-three took things from me.

It started with my body. This year I was diagnosed with arthritis, and there is no version of that sentence that prepares you for what it actually means to live with chronic pain. You start negotiating with your own body. You wake up wondering what today will allow you to do.

Then I lost income. Not all at once, but enough to make me redefine what “enough” looked like. I had to learn that my worth couldn’t be measured by what I was earning.

And somewhere between grieving my body and grieving my finances, I let my heart get broken. If I’m honest, I saw it coming. I stayed anyway. Maybe some part of me still hoped I’d be wrong.

It hurt. Not enough to destroy me. Just enough to change me.

Every birthday before this one was loud. I loved those birthdays, and I don’t want to rewrite history by pretending I didn’t.

This year feels different. I want to honour what this year cost me, but I also want to honour the woman who kept going anyway.

I’m still here.

I’m still soft.

I’m still hopeful.

I’m still becoming.

So this year, I’m spending my birthday alone.

I want to spend the day with the person who carried me through one of the hardest years of my life.

Thirty-three, you changed me.

Thirty-four...

I’ll meet you as I am.

There are evenings that feed you, and then there are evenings that fill you.

Fire in Oak by @courvoisiersa was the latter: a six course journey that was equal parts musical art, education, and pure indulgence. I left with a fuller palate, a grateful heart, and a deep appreciation for what it means to craft something with intention.

Auspicious is the only word for it.

🔥🍂✨

I almost didn’t post this.

Not because I was afraid of what people would say, but because sometimes it’s difficult to admit when something has changed inside of you.

For a long time, days like Father’s Day carried more weight than I wanted to admit.

As a single mother, there were moments when these days felt like reminders of everything that hadn’t gone according to plan. Reminders of the family I thought I’d have, the story I thought I would be living, and the version of my life I imagined years ago.

And honestly, there were times when seeing happy couples felt more painful than inspiring.

Not because I wasn’t happy for them.

But because grief has a way of making other people’s joy feel like evidence of your own loss.

Today felt different.

I spent the afternoon surrounded by music, laughter, friendship, and so many beautiful couples.

And instead of feeling sad, I felt hopeful.

That surprised me.

Because healing isn’t always loud.

Sometimes healing is realizing that something that used to trigger you no longer does.

Sometimes healing is looking at something you once resented and seeing possibility instead.

I don’t think I’ve stopped wanting love.

I don’t think I’ve stopped wanting partnership.

I don’t think I’ve stopped dreaming about the life I hope to have one day.

I think I’ve just stopped treating other people’s happiness as proof that I’ve missed my chance.

And that’s a beautiful place to be.

❤️

—

#healing #fathersday #singlemother #selfdiscovery #loveiscoming

I had to be honest with myself about alignment.

Because sometimes I can be very clear about what I want in love, in life, in a partner…

but still find myself living in ways that don’t fully match that vision.

And that’s the uncomfortable part.

Not that I don’t know what I want —
but that I’m still learning how to become the version of me that can hold it.

#lungihonest #dating #alignment

The truth is, I don’t know if I’ll ever meet him.

And for a long time, that made me want to stop making these videos.

Because what’s the point of speaking to someone who might never arrive?

But lately I’ve realized these videos were never really about him.

They were about making sure I don’t abandon my own story.

So if one day he exists, he’ll know how I got here.

And if he doesn’t, my son will.

And I’ll know that I didn’t let my life pass by unnoticed.

#lungihonest #healingjourney

After watching @netflixsa The Polygamist, I didn’t just see a story. I saw mine.

The writing, the performances, the way every woman felt fully human instead of a stereotype, all of it was brilliant. But what stayed with me long after I finished wasn’t the drama. It was the introspection it forced.

Every character felt like a mirror I wasn’t ready for. The secrets, the waiting, the lies, the becoming the woman I swore I’d never be.

I realised how many versions of myself have existed in other people’s stories. As the secret. As the other woman. As the one who stayed too long. As the child looking for a place that was never made for her.

This isn’t a review. This is recognition.

#ThePolygamist #Netflix #LungiHonest

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about friendship cause I have lost most if not all of them.

Not in a sad way. Not in an angry way. Just in an honest way.

If I’m being truthful, I’ve lost most of the friendships I once thought would last forever. People who were genuinely my people. The ones I thought would be at every birthday, every milestone, every version of my life.

And I think what has been hardest isn’t just losing the friendships. It’s being the common denominator.

When enough friendships end, drift, or change, you eventually start asking yourself difficult questions.

Is it me?

Am I a difficult friend to love?

Did I expect too much?

Did I not give enough?

I’ve spent a lot of time sitting with those questions.

The reality is probably more nuanced than that.

Some people are raising children.
Some people are building careers.
Some people are healing.
Some people are surviving.
Some people are becoming entirely new versions of themselves.

And somewhere along the way, our seasons stopped matching.

I think that’s the part of adulthood nobody prepares you for. Realizing that love isn’t always enough to keep people connected. Sometimes there isn’t a big fight. Sometimes nobody did anything wrong. Sometimes people just end up living very different lives.

Still, I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t become an insecurity of mine.

Because when you look around and so many of the people you once loved deeply are no longer in your everyday life, it’s hard not to wonder what role you’ve played in that.

I’m still reflecting on it. Still learning. Still growing.

But if you’re in a season where your circle looks different, where friendships have changed, where you’re grieving people who are still alive but no longer present in the way they once were, I hope you know you’re not alone.

Maybe this is just what adulthood looks like.

Or maybe this is the season before we find our people again.

Either way, I’m learning to make peace with where I am.

#lungihonest #friendships #mourning #healingjourney #vulnerability

i never thought i’d get a tattoo.

i thought i was too indecisive. too afraid of permanence. turns out i just hadn’t found the words worth keeping yet.

this season gave me those words or maybe it just reminded me i already had them.

“honest.” — chest.
“it always works out.” — wrist.

one is who i am. one is what i know. both needed to live somewhere i couldn’t lose them.

This is not my story alone. It is my ancestors story too.

For months I thought something was wrong with me. I thought I was broken. I thought I was weak. I thought I was too much or not enough.

I went to the mountain to find out the truth. The truth did not come from me. It came from my ancestors. They showed me that the problem was never me. They showed me that they never left. They have been patient. They have been waiting. And now I am finally listening.

My ancestors keep showing up for me. Through every difficult moment. Through every heartbreak. Through every confusion. They protect me fiercely. Even when I did not know they were there.

I remembered that when I named my son Qhawelethu it was because he is a living reminder of the power of my ancestors. He is proof that heroes are not born from ease. They are born from people who refused to stay broken. His name is not just his. It is theirs. It is ours.

When I think about how my ancestors show up for me, I know that same protection will follow my son and his children. My future grandchildren will never have to question if they are alone. They will carry the same fierce ancestors I carry.

I hope one day this post becomes a digital footprint for my son and his children. I want them to know that they will never be abandoned & the song I used is pretty much for them. I will be a strong ancestor in their lives. The kind who protects. The kind who stays. The kind who makes sure they never forget where they come from.

You come from heroes. That is what Qhawelethu means. That is what my ancestors have always known. That is what I will never forget again.

Mzukulu waMaqhawe…uzi thembe mzukulu

Pula.

Today I spent my Sunday at @niroxfoundation Concert dor Water — and something about it cracked me open a little.

It got me thinking about how we’re all just bodies of water walking around. Some of us are hurricanes right now.

Carrying so much, moving so fast — not because we’re broken, but because we’ve absorbed a lot. Some of us are ice. Frozen. Held still by something that hurt. Not cold — just waiting for the right warmth to move again. Some of us are mist. Present, but not quite here yet. And some of us are deep, still water. Calm on the surface — but holding entire worlds underneath.

None of these is wrong. They’re just where you are right now.
Because what water knows — that we sometimes forget — is that every form is temporary. The hurricane settles. The ice melts. The mist clears.
You are not stuck. You are just in a season.

Water doesn’t apologise for how far it goes. Neither do I.

…I’m Cancerian by the way. Our symbol is a crab. We feel all of this — and then carry it in a shell on our backs.

Forever. We’re working on it. 🌊🦀

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Meet Our Founder

I’ve spent my career creating ideas that bring people together. Friends in the Making is the idea that became personal.

About Lungi

Who is the founder and why the story matters

My goal is to take Friends in the Making beyond Johannesburg, creating experiences in different cities and eventually building a brand people know as the place to go when they want to meet people, try something new and make a friend.

​

Follow our Founder

About
Lungi