From the moment I woke up, I knew that there was something special about Sunday, the 7th of September 2025. As per my religion, I woke up and walked slowly to open my laptop. Made coffee, checked WhatsApp messages, and got a reminder from Maison Originals’ founder, Thandolwethu, that we were going to church on the day. We were going to have a conversation with Pastor Mason, a man of many talents, skills, and names - some refer to him as Marko Morachin, while others address him with his full name, Max Hlongwane.
Born in 1996, Pastor Mason spent his upbringing all over Soweto. This enabled him to encounter multiple cultures and people, and therefore build a powerfully diverse craft. He faced the world with his chest, heavily invested in his work, and landed an opportunity to study at the Stellenbosch Academy of Design and Photography from 2021 to 2024. Today I engage with the award-winning photographer, art director, videographer, copywriter, sound designer, events organiser, and DJ. Walk with me to church as I join the congregation of Pastor Mason.
The Interview:
Karabelo Temeki (K): Thank you for joining us today, Marko. You’ve had quite a diverse journey as a creative. To start, can you tell us a bit about your journey as an artist—how it began and how it's evolved to where you are today?
Marko Morachin(M): To be honest, I think we are all artists at some point; some people just lose their drive. My journey as an artist really started with music. I grew up in a house that was a lot like many Black households—filled with people and a lot of different musical influences. There were uncles who loved hip-hop and others who loved kwaito. Music played a huge role in how I defined the world.
K: It sounds like music was a powerful presence from a young age. As a kid, with all this music around you, when did your relationship with it become more personal?
M: It was always a thing, a kind of soundtrack to certain moments. On a Saturday morning, the first song playing would be something like "Keeping My Faith in You" by Luther Vandross
to get us to start cleaning. On Sundays, it was Eddie Zondi. When you walked down the street, everyone was playing music. My father was a producer, so I consider myself one of those "nephew babies" of music. I think that's where my passion for it really comes from.
K: So you were surrounded by music your whole life. When did you decide to approach it as a career? Did you start after school?
M: I never actually studied music. I can tell when something is off-key, but I can't read music. My pursuit of music as a path started in high school when me and my friends, we were all aspiring rappers. We didn't have anyone to send us beats, so we used Fruity Loops. It was always a thing. There was a point where I was really good at school, but I was really bad at rapping, you know? My flow was off.
The Name and the Congregation
K: You go by the pseudonym Pastor Mason. What's the story behind the name, what does it mean to you, and how does it influence your creative approach?
M: The name has a story behind it. My initial music path was all about rap, but it was overwhelming. I'd get booked for free gigs, but then I'd get a call from a DJ asking me to play a set for R2500 for an hour. I've known how to DJ for a long time—my brothers taught me as a kid. The whole idea of Pastor Mason comes from a rapper named Mase. When Mase became a superstar, he changed from rapping to becoming a pastor.
It was a similar situation for me; rap was not paying, but DJing was. I had to drop rapping for DJing, a "Plan B" move, you know? The name translated into something bigger because names play a role in the character you become. My understanding and the history of music I grew up with started reflecting in my DJ sets. When I get on the decks, people come up to me and say my music made them want to stand up and dance. I started to realize that I was in a privileged position where I could determine someone's day. I was like a pastor preaching to a congregation through music.
Fish Out of Water
K: Has there been a space where you’ve felt like a ‘fish out of water’, and how did you deal with that discomfort?
M: I think discomfort is necessary. My dad always used to say that in life, you're going to get uncomfortable somehow. You either choose to be too comfortable and then life gives you an uncomfortable moment, or you work hard, and life becomes easier. For me, being uncomfortable is a part of the journey. I believe in that theory so much that sometimes I actively seek discomfort. When I get too comfortable, I start to feel depressed. I'll think, "Why am I not being challenged? Why isn't someone telling me I need to pay the bill now?" As a creative, working with what you have is basically being a fish out of water every day.
K: You mentioned feeling like a fish out of water in spaces that weren't designed for you. Can you tell us about a time you experienced this and how you navigated it?
M: I was in Stellenbosch for a couple of years. Not to say Stellenbosch wasn't designed for me, but I think I wasn't designed for it at that time. It was uncomfortable in the simple fact that I'm Black and I'm from Soweto. In Stellenbosch, it was always a thing—the class dynamics always had to highlight themselves. These things were also a very big blessing in disguise because in places like Johannesburg, if someone is offended by your presence, you can hear what they say. In Stellenbosch, it was more passive-aggressive.
It was a different environment. You have to download an entirely new social software to navigate it. Being in that ecosystem made me unlearn a lot of things about myself. I thought certain things were my character, but I later realized they were just defense mechanisms I had built up because I came from a fast-paced city. That discomfort is needed. You need to jump out of the water sometimes.
K: Is discomfort something to be resisted, embraced, or transformed?
M: All three. You should embrace it, but you should not dwell in it. It's easy for us to get comfortable with the uncomfortability and play the victim. You have to embrace it and transform it. For example, if you don't get a job after school, you can get depressed. But then you realize you can DJ, you can do this, and you can do that. You can create an access point for the next person. That's what Grindhouse is. It’s me realizing I hit a ceiling, but instead of getting comfortable with it, I transformed it by creating a new space.
Movement and Identity
K: That leads us to the idea of movement. You've lived in Soweto, Stellenbosch, and Johannesburg. How has that physical movement and the movement across creative disciplines influenced your work?
M: Movement is one of the biggest attributes to all of my work. I believe in cultural exchange. I met my friends in Stellenbosch, and we were some of the few Black kids in the academy. We had a lecturer say, "Can I take these guys? Because they would know what’s going on downstairs.” We believed in movement, not just physical movement. Coming from the hood, a lot of people don’t move out, so you only learn what’s happening in the hood. You have to always move.
Your network becomes your net worth. The fact that I moved around made me uncomfortable enough to move to other things. When I was in Joburg, it was easy to embrace the rap side of life because it was my home. When I moved out, it was easier for me to become a business person because I couldn't rely on people knowing me. I had to be able to stand in front of people and convince them.
K: You’ve talked about physical movement, but how have you found a sense of being rooted and at home within yourself despite all this movement?
M: My work played a role in my confidence. My work was the reason I could get to a place and feel like I belonged. I'll keep bringing up Stellenbosch because that was the most recent, very uncomfortable thing I had to learn about myself. A lot of us were there on bursaries because we were good at what we did, while others were there because they could afford it. You'd get kids whose laptops couldn't support the software, and their dads would just buy them a new one. You start to question yourself. You have to remember, "I’m in this room not because I can afford it, but because my skills afford me to be in this room." My confidence in my work is the reason I can make a home wherever I go. I can go anywhere, and as soon as it feels shaky, I remind myself that I belong here. My favorite rapper, Jay-Z, has a line that says, "Put me anywhere on God's green Earth, I'll triple my worth." That's my life, man. I’m from the O11, the mecca. I don’t do fear. If anything, the only thing that can face me is myself.
Legacy
K: What does flourishing mean to you in your practice?
M: First, getting money. I’m not one of those guys who says I'm doing this for butterflies and passion. I'm doing this because I need to feed people. I love nice things. For me to see the world the way I see it, a lot of people sacrificed so that I could have this point of view. My mother had a True Words magazine subscription, and I used to read those magazines. The layouts and design were part of my learning. For me to be in a class learning advertising and then looking at all those magazines, I realized it was supposed to happen. It was my destiny. A lady sacrificed so that I could get here. I'm not going to come here and lie, saying I do this for the passion. I do this because there are people invested in it, and I want to see the fruits come from it. However, the biggest satisfaction is when it spreads beyond myself.
K: What do you want your journey and your work to be remembered for?
M: I don't really think about people remembering my name. I don't mind working behind the scenes. My legacy is my work. If anything, I just want the next person that comes after my generation to not have to go through the same obstacles to bring any kind of idea to life. That dream would be even greater if it expanded beyond me and my family. I know what it feels like to want to make an album but not have a studio. I know what it feels like to be a good soccer player but not be able to get to the trials because it's an expense for the family. My legacy is the next person. When they say they want to be an artist, it shouldn't be an obstacle.
K: Finally, what advice would you give to someone facing the kinds of challenges you’ve gone through?
M: Three things:
1. Don’t take things personally. What happens around you isn’t happening to you — it’s happening for you.
2. Don’t ignore your inner voice. It knows more than you think.
3. Transform discomfort. Don’t just sit in it. Use it to create, to move, to build spaces not just for yourself, but for those who come after you.
End.
There you have it friends. Sunday was truly a special day, and I hope that through this interview, you enjoyed being a congregant of Pastor Mason. From his upbringing to the roots of his stage name, his connection with music, to how he approaches discomfort and challenges as a young Black man in the world, it is clear that Mason is a force to be reckoned with. A paradigm shifter. A selector of timeless sounds. A grootmaan of note continuously chasing mastery through purposeful work.