Community
MINGLES: FROM A HEIDEDAL NIGHTLIFE LANDMARK TO AN ABANDONED WHITE ELEPHANT — CAN IT HAVE A SECOND LIFE?
Could spaces like Mingles have a second life?
Could spaces like Mingles have a second life?
For years, the former Mingles building in Heidedal has stood as a physical reminder of how a space once associated with people, entertainment and community life can slowly become something very different. What was once a known nightclub has, over time, been reduced to an abandoned and vandalised property, its decline raising uncomfortable questions about safety, responsibility and what happens to buildings when their original purpose disappears.
Mingles' history stretches back decades, with the venue once forming part of Bloemfontein's entertainment landscape. Reporting by the Mail & Guardian's amaBhungane previously noted that Danny Smith's family owned the popular Bloemfontein nightclub Mingles and had a broader history of business, social and political activism in the city. The venue was also associated with sport and prominent football figures during the 1980s.
But somewhere between the memories of what Mingles once was and what it has become today, the building appears to have lost its place in the community.
By January 2004, News24 was already describing Mingles as an abandoned nightclub after children playing behind the building discovered the body of a woman in one of its deserted rooms. Police opened a murder investigation at the time. More than a decade later, in May 2016, OFM reported that workers at the abandoned nightclub discovered a human skeleton in the basement, with the report again highlighting concerns surrounding the neglected property.
The building's troubled history did not end there. In 2025, another disturbing incident again brought Mingles into the public spotlight when police investigated the discovery of a decapitated female body in the building's flooded basement. Reports described the property as vandalised and dilapidated, with the dangerous condition of the basement complicating the recovery operation.
Those incidents form part of the difficult history attached to the property, but they also point to a larger concern: an abandoned building does not simply become invisible because it is no longer operating. It remains part of the community, occupying physical space while potentially becoming increasingly vulnerable to vandalism, criminal activity and neglect.
For Heidedal resident Mr Izak Hattingh, however, the conversation should not end with the question of how Mingles reached this point. He believes the focus should also turn towards what could be done with existing facilities to create something positive for the community, particularly for children and young people.
Hattingh believes facilities already found in and around the community could potentially be used as part of a proposed neighbourhood camp. He points to Hendry Brooks Hall, the so-called Bell Hall, open grounds, the island and the stadiums, but says Mingles is perhaps the most important example of a space that should not simply be left to decay.
For him, the building's future should be considered alongside a wider effort to give young people constructive alternatives.
“These facilities could keep children busy and away from negative influences. If we can give them sport, education, discipline, mentorship and constructive activities, it would mean something positive for the entire community,” Hattingh says.
“We must give them opportunities before gangs and drugs take hold of their lives.”
His proposal is based on the belief that young people need more than warnings about the dangers around them. They need somewhere to go, something meaningful to participate in and adults who are prepared to guide them.
That is where the idea of a neighbourhood camp could potentially connect the community's existing spaces with a broader youth-development programme. Instead of viewing facilities individually, Hattingh believes they could collectively provide the foundation for activities that keep children occupied while exposing them to sport, education, discipline and mentorship.
He says the proposed camp could also connect young people with guidance and professional support where necessary, making it more than simply an afternoon activity programme. The intention, as he describes it, is to create an environment in which young people can receive direction and support before negative influences become deeply rooted in their lives.
For Hattingh, the issue is particularly urgent because the community already has spaces that could potentially contribute to such an initiative, yet some remain underused or neglected. The challenge, therefore, is not only about constructing something new but asking whether what already exists can be used differently.
Mingles becomes particularly significant in that conversation because its current condition stands in such sharp contrast to what Hattingh believes a community space could provide. A building once associated with people gathering has become a place from which people increasingly keep their distance. The possibility of giving it a different purpose would not erase its history, but it could potentially prevent that history from becoming the only thing associated with the building.
Hattingh says other men in the community also support the idea and recognise the need for greater intervention in the lives of young people.
“I spoke to a few other men, and they had the same input. They also believe that a neighbourhood camp could help our children. We are strict because we understand the dangers they are exposed to,” he says.
His comments introduce another element to the proposal: the belief that protecting young people is not solely the responsibility of government, schools or law enforcement. Communities themselves have a role to play.
For Hattingh and those who share his view, that means adults becoming more involved, creating boundaries, offering mentorship and providing young people with alternatives to the streets. The proposed camp would therefore be about more than filling empty hours. It would be about creating a structured environment in which children can participate in sport, learn, receive guidance and build relationships with positive role models.
That vision also changes the way abandoned facilities are viewed.
An empty hall is not only an unused building. An open ground is not merely vacant space. A stadium is not simply infrastructure waiting for an event. If appropriately assessed and managed, such spaces can become platforms for community programmes.
And an abandoned building such as Mingles raises the most difficult but potentially most important question of all: could it be given a new purpose?
That question would first require practical answers. Who owns the property? What is its current legal status? Is the structure safe? What would rehabilitation cost? Who would finance it? Who would manage it? What security measures would be required? And what would the community actually want the building to become?
Those questions cannot be ignored, particularly given Mingles' history and present condition.
But Hattingh's argument is not that the building should simply be opened and occupied without proper consideration. His argument is that spaces such as Mingles should not be forgotten while communities continue to look for places where children can be kept safe and given opportunities.
That distinction matters.
The future of Mingles may not be about bringing back the nightclub it once was. Its second life, if one is possible, could look entirely different.
It could potentially become a youth centre, a training facility, a community safety space or another form of community infrastructure — provided that the property is found to be suitable and that the necessary ownership, legal, structural and financial questions can be resolved.
For now, however, Mingles remains a white elephant carrying a complicated history.
It is a building that once drew people in and now stands as a reminder of what can happen when spaces lose their purpose.
Yet Hattingh's proposal asks Heidedal to look at it differently.
Instead of seeing only the broken windows, vandalism and deterioration, he wants the community to consider the possibility of what could happen if some of these spaces were reclaimed for constructive purposes.
Because the real issue is not simply that Heidedal has abandoned facilities.
It is that young people need opportunities now.
They need places where they can play sport, learn, receive mentorship and develop discipline. They need adults who are prepared to take an interest in their futures. And they need positive environments that can compete with the negative influences that may already be surrounding them.
Hattingh believes the community should act before those influences become permanent.
“We must give them opportunities before gangs and drugs take hold of their lives.”
It is a simple message, but it places the emphasis on prevention rather than reaction.
Instead of waiting for a child to become involved in crime before intervention begins, the community could be creating alternatives beforehand. Instead of asking what went wrong after a young person has already been lost to substance abuse or gang activity, the question becomes what could have been provided earlier.
That is why the future of Mingles matters beyond the building itself.
If it remains abandoned, it will continue to represent a missed opportunity.
If it can be safely and legally rehabilitated, however, it could potentially become part of a different story — one built around young people rather than the problems surrounding them.
The same principle could apply to Hendry Brooks Hall, the Bell Hall, open grounds, the island and the stadiums. Hattingh's proposal is essentially about looking at the community's existing spaces and asking how they can be connected to a common purpose.
The goal would not necessarily be to turn every facility into the same kind of centre, but to create a network of spaces capable of supporting constructive activities.
Sport could occupy the fields.
Education could take place in halls.
Mentorship could connect young people with adults who can guide them.
Training could provide practical skills.
Community organisations could have places to operate.
And facilities could potentially become part of a broader effort to make young people feel that they have somewhere to belong.
For Mingles, that would represent a dramatic change in identity.
From nightclub to abandoned building.
From abandoned building to potential community resource.
That transformation, however, cannot happen through sentiment alone.
It would require proper investigation, responsible decision-making and community involvement. The history of the property means that safety would have to be taken seriously. Its condition would need to be professionally assessed. Ownership and responsibility would need to be established, and any proposed redevelopment would have to be financially and legally sustainable.
But perhaps the first step is simply refusing to accept neglect as the final chapter.
Mingles has already had one life.
The question is whether it can have another.
And while the building itself remains a complicated symbol of Heidedal's past, Hattingh's vision is firmly focused on its future — particularly the future of the children growing up around it.
He believes the community cannot afford to wait until negative influences have already taken hold.
“We are strict because we understand the dangers they are exposed to,” he says, reflecting the belief that discipline and guidance must go hand in hand with opportunity.
That is ultimately what makes his proposal bigger than Mingles.
It is about whether a community can look at what it has, rather than only at what it lacks.
It is about whether abandoned spaces can be reconsidered.
It is about whether men and women in the community are prepared to become part of the solution.
And it is about whether the buildings that have become symbols of neglect can be given a purpose that speaks to the future.
Mingles may never become what it once was.
Perhaps it should not.
Perhaps its most meaningful second life would be something entirely different: a place where young people can learn, train, play, receive mentorship and discover opportunities they might otherwise never have encountered.
For now, the building remains a white elephant.
But white elephants do not have to remain useless forever.
The question is whether the community, authorities and those responsible for the property are prepared to ask what comes next.
Because Heidedal's children cannot wait forever for opportunities.
And perhaps the building that once represented entertainment could one day represent something far more valuable:
a chance to build a different future.
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