My dad and I had a regular ritual. At the end of every month he would lay out on his bed all the money he'd earned in his barbershop and count it. It was mainly in coins, with the occasional R10 note.
By the time he died, he was still charging R3 for an adult haircut, so it was rare to get bigger denominations of money. There were hardly any big tippers in our little town.
The tally usually came to a few hundred rands, with which he promptly paid off any bills.
We lived within our means and when he died he was debt-free.
I thought my dad was rich. I would sit on the floor by the bed watching him stack the coins into little towers, trying not to think about how many sweets I could buy with just one lot.
If I had not misbehaved that day, my dad would let me count the 2c and 5c coins. Sadly, I did not get to do this very often and my pleading only led to grumbling about what a bad child I was.
I felt a pang in my heart on Thursday watching video footage presented as evidence at the Zondo commission of R1m in cash being counted out by Bosasa boss Gavin Watson to pay bribes to his crooked connections.
Angelo Agrizzi, who was something of a consigliere in the Bosasa empire until he left in December 2016, used the video to give South Africans fascinating insight into the business model of one of the country's most politically connected firms.
All Bosasa's government contracts were "tainted with bribes and corruption", Agrizzi said. Even in the case of those that were secured legitimately, afterwards "someone had to be looked after".
There were many astounding things in Agrizzi's testimony, including his description of mechanisms to launder cash for Bosasa to pay bribes, which he said ranged between R4m and R6m a month.
About 80 people were receiving corrupt payments from Bosasa and Agrizzi will implicate 38 people before he is finished.
Ways of raising cash for bribes included defrauding a death benefit scheme, creating ghost workers, falsifying invoices, and exploiting undocumented migrants held at the Lindela repatriation centre.
Agrizzi also testified that taxpayers' money was used for ANC electioneering in the North West.
His evidence unveiled depravity in business and politics, and how corruption is normalised.
Both the Guptas and the Watsons were able to flaunt their relationships with senior ANC and government leaders because of the cash they threw around and the "special favours" they performed.
Neither family felt any fear that they might be held to account for their rotten deeds, because they had corrupted the criminal justice system.
Bosasa has previously been linked to corruption at the department of correctional services. No prosecution ensued and thanks to Agrizzi, we now know that this was because officials at the National Prosecuting Authority were on Bosasa's payroll.
But as they did with the Guptas, even after revelations of corruption, senior ANC leaders continued to associate with and pose for pictures with Watson and his employees.
The point in doing this, let us not forget, was to promote and give legitimacy to the business empires of those pillaging the state. Government officials and business people are more likely to collude in corruption when they know that those involved are the friends of senior politicians.
The ANC's attempts to dissociate itself from state capture are therefore absurd.
Like with the EFF receiving funding from the tobacco underworld, it is not possible to campaign on an anticorruption ticket when you benefit from malfeasance.
Agrizzi explained that people's loyalty to a corrupt system had to be nourished monthly. "You don't entrap them for life if you pay them once off . but once you start paying people bribes on a monthly basis for as long as they are there, you control them 100%."
He also explained how people get accustomed to a higher standard of living when they receive illicit payments.
"Bribery is a trap," Agrizzi said.
The footage of Watson counting a pile of "monopoly money" has shocked the nation. Most people have never seen what R1m in cash looks like. It struck me as ironic and sordid that bank notes bearing Nelson Mandela's beaming image were used to pervert the state he sacrificed his life to create.
The state capture commission has so far been a journey into the heart of darkness.
Many people feel betrayed by the corrosion of the entire state system but feel powerless because of limited political choices.
The Zondo commission is more than an investigation into state capture; it is a defining moment when we have to question our own morals.
My dad worked up to 12 hours a day on his feet to pay for me to study journalism. He died of a heart attack just as I was about to graduate before the 1994 elections.
He never voted in a democratic SA.
Twenty-five years later, I have to act according to the values he taught me...