Feisty on the outside, fragile within: Farewell, Kuli

The first time I met Kuli Roberts was in 1998, not long after I returned to SA. It was at the opening of the Swatch watch store in Sandton City, and this diminutive woman stormed up to me, eyes blazing.

“Why doesn’t he want to take my picture?” she demanded, pointing at lensman Joe Sefale, who at the time snapped the subjects for Gwen Gill’s society column in this newspaper.

Later, it became clear that this was innate to her being — if she didn’t garner attention, Kuli would snatch it.

She had a razor-sharp wit, and a memory almost eidetic — especially about the sort of things others might have said or done that they would have preferred forgotten.

That was her ace as a gossip writer — but while Kuli merrily chopped down personalities with a tap on her keyboard, she was affronted when served the same poison.

She once berated me for describing the frock she wore to an awards do as looking like a 1980s matric ball dress. She didn’t buy my explanation that it was a backhanded compliment as I, after all, had designed her daughter India’s high school farewell gown.

Feisty, rambunctious and a devil-may-care attitude was part of the aura she projected, but those who cracked the armour discovered that inside was a softer and fragile Kuli.

Despite the TV, radio and print gigs, performances on soapies and movies, her proudest achievements were her two children, India and Euwan.

In recent years, her new role as gran to India’s daughter Isabella was her most prized.

Dearest Kuli, you lived fiercely to the beat of your own drum — loud, defiant, unbridled.

Mzansi is a quieter and immeasurably duller place now that you’re gone.