In Pretoria, an Auntie’s Rage Room Is Breaking More Than Just Plates

If you drive through the Moot in Pretoria and hear the sound of shattering glass and crashing metal, don’t be alarmed. That’s just the sound of healing in progress.

At 39, Lydia Pieterse has become the neighbourhood’s “lekker auntie,” the one you call when the world feels too heavy. She runs The Wack Shack, a place where people pay to break thingsand walk away a little lighter.

But this isn’t just a quirky business idea. It’s a response to a community’s pain, a mother’s vision, and a stubborn belief that sometimes you need to break something to fix yourself.

The Vision That Wouldn’t Leave Her Alone

Lydia’s career path meandered through marketing and corporate life, but none of it ever felt like hers. Sixteen years ago, during a life coaching course, she pictured something unusual: rooms where people could safely unleash their anger, smashing plates and punching walls without judgment.

The idea lingered quietly until tragedy made it urgent. When a learner from Wonderboom Hoërskool died by suicide, the grief that swept through Pretoria’s streets was palpable. For Lydia, mourning wasn’t enough. She needed to act.

“Children struggle to talk. Parents are busy. Schools are about performance, not feelings,” she says. “I decided: screw that. I’ll be the auntie they can turn to.”

With that, she bought Wendy houses, filled them with discarded washing machines, old TVs, and empty bottles, and handed out baseball bats. The Wack Shack was born.

More Than a Smash Room: A Community Frontline

What’s surprising isn’t that people comeit’s why they come.

Teenagers overwhelmed by exam pressure. Women reclaiming power after violent trauma. Groups of friends blowing off steam. Even couples, she laughs, who need to vent after a fight.

Local social media buzzes with photos and stories from visitors. “Went to smash a printer imagining it was my deadline,” one user posted. “Left feeling human again.” Another wrote: “Didn’t know I needed to scream that loud until Lydia gave me permission.”

But Lydia noticed something else. While her business helped those inside the Wendy houses, need persisted outside her gates. In June, she saw a local animal shelter pleading for food. She cried for two days straightthen started the Hope Market.

Now, every month, her property transforms into a charity hub. Organisations like Wollies Animal Shelter and Volunteer Emergency Services set up stalls, collecting donations and raising funds. The rage room funds the hope market; destruction fuels compassion.

Where Family History Meets Fury

Charity, for Lydia, is inherited. She remembers getting into trouble as a child for giving away her clothes. The tradition deepened with her own daughter.

On her 13th birthday, instead of a party, Lydia’s daughter asked to feed 75 homeless people. Together they cooked curry, packed meals with motivational notes, and baked a massive colourful cake to share. That day cemented a family truth: service is a language they all speak.

That same spirit now guides The Wack Shack. Lydia keeps youth coaches and psychologists on speed dial. She reads the silence after a client exits the smash roomthe shaky breaths, the tears, the quiet “thank you.”

One story stays with her. A rape survivor entered the room and smashed relentlessly, shouting with every swing. “It gave me goosebumps,” Lydia recalls. “When she came out, she was trembling. After 15 minutes, she asked to go again. I repacked the whole room for her. I wanted her to heal until she was done.”

The Stubborn Microwaves and the Will to Continue

Running a rage room isn’t all profound breakthroughs. There are playful debates: What’s the most satisfying item to smash? Lydia votes for televisions (“they explode beautifully”). Microwaves, she warns, “fight back.”

There are also doubts. She admits sometimes she thinks about returning to a steady nine-to-five. The emotional toll is real. But then a teenager messages her, “Auntie Lydia, today was the first day I didn’t think about hurting myself.” And she knows she can’t quit.

“I am 100% living my calling,” she says simply.

The Real Breakthrough

In the end, The Wack Shack isn’t really about rage. It’s about release. In a country where mental health resources are stretched thin and stigma runs thick, a Pretoria auntie has built a wooden sanctuary where pain is allowed to make noise.

Every crash is a conversation starter. Every shattered plate is a piece of silence broken. And every month, the Hope Market reminds the community that from brokenness, generosity can grow.

Lydia Pieterse isn’t just selling smashed electronics. She’s proving that healing sometimes wears overalls and safety goggles, that it’s okay not to be okay, and that sometimes, to put yourself back together, you need to break a few things first.

{Source: Citizen}

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