We Need New Dreams!

 

Khangwelo Matodzi CA(SA), 2025

I have just turned 31 and it got me thinking...I need new dreams!

I realised that I have more than what I could have ever asked for. Not that I ask for much. 

I come from absolutely nothing. I was raised by an illiterate mother with six children. We all used to stay in a one-roomed mud house. Naturally, my biggest dream would be to build my family a decent house and to provide for them. There are those who say they grew up poor but did not know that they were poor. I knew I was poor. It is impossible not to know you are poor when you never wear a proper school uniform, when you never go on school trips, when you never have pocket money, when you never pay school fees. The list is endless.

Despite all these, I loved school and that was my saving grace. The classroom was the one place I felt I was equal to or even better than others. I do not know if I loved school because I was good at it or I became good at it because I loved it. What I know is that I loved it and I was good at it. But being good at something does necessarily not mean you could make a living out of it. I grew up with people who were very good in football but it did not mean they would go on to play for my beloved Orlando Pirates, Kaizer Chiefs or any of the professional football clubs. So although I was good at school, I did not dream big.

My mother worked at my primary school for a number of years, cooking for us as part of the feeding scheme staff. That meant that every one of my teachers knew her and would report me to her if I was doing well or misbehaving. That served as a motivation for me to do well. I knew that hearing my academic achievements was a source of much pride and joy for her. There is nothing I loved more than making her proud.

When the volunteers from some American universities came to our primary school to teach us in 2008 when I was doing grade 7, I had already established myself as a top academic performer in my class. It did not take them too long to realise that there was something special about me. My early primary school teachers like Mrs. Khameli had already affirmed me but there was something about the confidence that these volunteers had in me after knowing me for just a little while. They even felt compelled to come to my place to tell my mother about my potential. I still vividly remember that conversation, with our late principal Mr. Tshivhengwa serving as an interpreter. That is when I started believing that I could make something out of this education thing. 

L-R: Jennifer, Khangwelo and Alex, 2008

Their biggest fear was that my potential would be wasted they do not do something about it. They had told the project director, Tshifhiwa Tshivhengwa, about me and also promised to raise funds for my education when they go back to America. That did not work out and it caused a great disappointment to me and my family. I felt stupid for having had high hopes. Tshifhiwa still assisted with building us a house at home and would also pay for my flights and allowance when I later went to university.

I then went to Ndaedzo Secondary School, which is in another village next to my home Manamani. Having hoped to have gone to a 'better' school in town, I did not enjoy my first years at Ndaedzo. Over time, Ndaedzo grew on me. The competition was healthy, especially with the now Dr. Adivhaho Netshindande (MBChB, UKZN). I managed to pass my matric with six distinctions, which showed how good a school Ndaedzo was. 

My choice of accounting was inspired by one of my sisters, Phumudzo, who had also done 'Commerce' at Ndaedzo. I come after Phumudzo, so she is the sibling I have always been closest to (I did not say favourite hahaha). The 10-year-old me would sit me with her doing her homework and would wish to be able to fill those ledger and journal classwork books they used for high school accounting then. It seemed so cool and my mind was made up then that I would choose accounting when I reach grade 10. I could not have known what a chartered accountant (CA) was at the time and when I heard about CA, I did not quite like it. The idea of choosing a career merely because it pays well did not sit well with me. I would tell people that I am doing accounting because I loved it, not because of money (in fact, what money? hahaha). 

Because I was still not comfortable with the idea of being a CA, I registered for the Bcom accounting with law degree when I went to the University of Cape Town (UCT). I only switched to the infamous CA Stream in my second year, after learning that I would have to complete an LLB before I could specialise in Commercial Law. That did not sit well with me and that is when I went back to my first love, pure accounting. I did fairly well in accounting and graduated both my undergraduate and postgraduate degrees in record time.

Khangwelo being capped by Dr. Max Price, 2018

The UCT experience was not all rosy and I have written about it in length  here. Going to UCT remains the bravest decision I have ever made. Coming from where I come from, I had no business thinking I could be admitted there, let alone graduate from there. At least UCT should have given me the permission to dream. Or maybe UCT was the dream, because since then I have not dreamed much.

Khangwelo, UCT's Upper Campus, 2025

Recently, I revisited the UCT campus and part of the reason was to rediscover that boy that dared to dream. I have not done too bad since UCT. But I have not done too well either. I have trained at a Big Four audit firm (the so-called articles). I have worked for an international audit consultancy company. I have worked for a good insurance company. I have extended the house at home. I am quite financially stable. On the other hand, I have struggled with the final SAICA board, the APC, and that delayed my career progression post-articles. As a result, I am behind my peers career-wise. I also feel I sell myself short in some respects. 

Khangwelo and his mother, 2014

Immediately after UCT, in January 2018, I lost my beloved mother. A part of me died that morning. I am still to sit and think about the impact that her passing and the timing of it had on me. One thing is for sure, it killed my drive. It killed my ambition. It felt pointless to dream after that. I remember wanting to quit my articles in mid-2018. She passed away after I had just finished university but before I could start working. It just felt unfair that the one person who had been by my side, the one I worked so hard to make proud, could not be there to enjoy the fruits of her labour (no pun intended). Like Moses of old, she could not make it to the Promised Land. I know I made her proud. She would want me to dream. She would want me to live. Extending the house would have brought so much joy to her. She would also have been proud that I support my siblings. 

I have fought to keep my head above water. I think I have done well for myself. There is room for more. If anything, my life story shows that it is possible to achieve exceedingly abundantly above all that I ask or think. Armed with that, I should dream and dream big. There is still so much to look forward to about career, education, love, cars, houses, travel and many more.

I need new dreams!

On graduating in absentia

It was in early February this year when I received the invitation to my graduation ceremony from the Student Records office. The first thing I checked was the date of the ceremony and it was 6 May 2017, a Saturday. As a Seventh Day Adventist Christian, I did not have to think long and hard about whether I would attend the ceremony. It is going to be on the Sabbath of the Lord and there is no way I was going to choose to attend a secular event over honouring the Lord's day of rest, so I told myself. This means that I did not even have to tell my mom about the invitation, in fact I had been struggling to make her understand what my graduation meant since December, when my degree was officially conferred. Here is the thing, in TshiVenda(and I guess in other African languages too), graduation is interpreted as meaning to wear the gown and to finish school. In December when my Bcom degree was conferred, I had not worn the gown and neither had I finished school since I still had to come back to UCT for the my postgraduate Accounting studies. So to my mom, no matter how hard I tried to explain to her, my graduation was just like me passing(as usual) and progressing to the next grade, she did not understand what the big deal was when I was celebrating my results then. Enough about my beloved mama for now.

Since I was still coming back for my Postgraduate Diploma in Accounting(PGDA), missing my first graduation ceremony did not seem to be a big deal. So I easily made peace with my decision. The school re-opened later in that month(February) and it is back to business, I'm working on getting the second invitation to the graduation ceremony, which I pray would not be on a Saturday. I was not the only Adventist in my final Bcom and BBusc class of 2016 and both Bcom and BBusc graduation ceremonies were scheduled for the same day. My fellow Adventist mates managed to ask the Student Records office if a provision can be made for them to graduate on a different day and the office agreed, subject to space availability in the ceremonies at a different date. They told me about that and I told them that I have made peace with my decision of not attending. I told them that the atmosphere would just not be the same if I am not graduating with my Bcom class but with a bunch of strangers. They understood and went on to graduate with a random class at a different ceremony.

So far one can see that the reason I graduated in absentia is not because the ceremony was on a Saturday, as I could have easily chosen to graduate at a different date. I have to say, I appreciate UCT's respect for the right to religious liberty. Neither is the reason that a ceremony on a different date would not have provided the same atmosphere as the Bcom one. If anything, graduation is more of a family affair than meeting and cheering up with friends. Most of my Bcom 2016 classmates are still my PGDA classmates so it is not like graduating with them would have been some sort of a reunion. I had made up my mind  and was going to defend my decision against anyone who would try to convince me otherwise. In fact, if I make up my mind about something, it is very hard for anyone else to change that.

The graduation week arrived and I had to run errands for a graduating friend who is now working and could only arrive here a few days before his ceremony. I can safely say that I had the same experience as someone who was actually graduating, in terms of going up and down in preparations. Standing on the queues and seeing how the graduands were as they waited to collect the gowns, hoods, tickets and all the needed for the graduation day was amazing. It was the first time that I felt I was missing out, big time, by not attending the ceremony. His people arrived on the date of the ceremony and words would fail me if I try to describe how happy they were to have been on an airplane, to be in Cape Town and finally to be in UCT to celebrate the achievements of the boy. It was then that I realised that it  is not only me who was missing out, it was also my mom and the rest of my family that are missing out on this wonderful opportunity to celebrate me. I went to campus to take pictures of the the boy and his people, and it was an emotional moment for me. Seeing the graduands with their big African families was what I was not ready for, it was just too beautiful, an experience one should never deny his loved ones. I came home, reflected on it and convinced myself that it was too late to change anything.

As the graduation week coincided with the study week, I managed to ignore much of the noise on campus and focused on my studies. Remember I have a second graduation to work towards. Now and then I would go on social media to like and comment on graduation photos and still go back and convince myself that now attending my ceremony does not make me less of a graduate. But surely this was bigger than me and what the degree meant to me. It was supposed to be a family affair, as I have pointed out earlier. I managed to convince myself that I was okay with everything and that I would be able to celebrate others without having those 'that could be me' thoughts. This was to last only until 6 May, the day of the Bcom and BBusc graduation ceremony. I managed to watch part of my classmates' ceremony on the UCT website before I went to church. The reality of seeing my friends graduating and me not being there despite my deserving really hit home. It was happening, I was hurting but what I am so grateful for is that it did not hinder me from celebrating my friends. When Lwandile tweeted the photos of him, his mom and younger brother, that was when I had my 'that could me' moment and shed a tear. I hate to admit it but I missed out by not attending my graduation.

What I did not tell my fellow Adventist classmates then was the graduating on different date was not going to change anything regarding my non-attendance decision, because bigger than the Sabbath issue was the money issue. It did not matter much on which day the ceremony would be, because either my family was going to afford to come down to Cape Town to celebrate this milestone with me. Using the Saturday date as an excuse just seemed more convenient than pleading poverty. In this world we live in, being deserving is not enough when you are poor. This is the dark side of studying so away from home. I remember almost missing out on attending my sister's funeral last due to lack of transport money, until my good friends came to my rescue. Despite this dark side, I do not regret choosing UCT or studying far away from home. I so much love what this journey has exposed to me and I would not trade it for anything. It is thorny but it is promising that it will all be worth it at the end.

I am grateful I still have the PGDA graduation ceremony coming. My prayer is that it comes up around this time of the year in 2018 and not on a Saturday. This will allow me to save up enough money to bring my mom and at least one other family down here to celebrate this milestone with me. I now have a first priority for my next year's salary for the first few months of working. For now, the focus is on obtaining the PGDA. Mistakes are not to be repeated and the last big one I did, drove me to tears. As He led me to getting the Bcom, I have no doubt He will lead to the PGDA and whatever comes after that.

...And Money Matters

With just over a week before I was due to return to Cape Town, I sent a Facebook message to the guy who used to be my benefactor telling him how I planned to get to Cape Town and how much that would cost. He would always pay for all transport costs to and fro Cape Town and before this, I had only used flights to get to Cape Town. This time around I had planned to use a bus from Pretoria to Cape Town with a good friend of mine. When I did not get any reply to my initial Facebook inbox(despite Facebook informing me that my message was 'seen'), I sent another one. I did not get any replies from the Facebook messages I sent. We all know what insanity is so I decided to rather write an SMS informing him of the messages I sent him on Facebook. No response. I sent another one, this time telling me how frustrating his lack of response is. I was not getting anywhere with these message and remember I only had a week before I leave home. That was when I decided to call him.

The first thing I asked him was about the Facebook messages and the SMS's. He said that in my SMS's I was making an assumption that he saw my Facebook messages but the truth is I was not making an assumption, Facebook actually 'told' me that he had seen my messages. He did not deny having seen my messages, he went on to ask me why I was sending messages on Facebook since I am not his friend(friend as in friend, not Facebook friend). I really did not know how to answer that. I was not his friend and never considered myself as one but I had interacted with him on Facebook even on inbox. In fact, the last time he gave me transport money it was after I asked for it via Facebook. The question about friendship was an irrelevant one so I did not answer. From that point, I knew the conversation was not going in the direction I wished but I stayed on.

He then asked him how much money I had, and I told him I did not have any. He had asked me if I did anything to make my own money during the school holidays, and I told him I did not. Then he told me about how his mom is always looking for people to do work at her farm and that I could have gone and worked for her. I did not tell him why I would not want to work for his mom and I also will not do that in this blog. By this time, I could tell that this was not about my failure to make my own money during the holidays because if I had worked for his mom, I would not have made enough money to take myself to Cape Town. The other option for me to make money would have been what is termed 'vac work' maybe with an Accounting firm which was not really an available option since I was in  Venda and was not signed with any audit/accounting firm. There are no jobs and the audit firms give preference to the students who are signed with them when it comes to offering 'vac jobs'. Students who do 'vac work' in their fields of study usually have an obligation to do so as per their bursary contracts. I remembered in my Final year of Bcom I wanted real work experience badly and one of the big 4 audit firms allowed me to come work for them for a week, on condition that I will not be compensated for my services. I was in Cape Town during that holiday and I accepted the offer just to get exposure to the real world of work. My point is that my failure to make my own money was not because I did not want to make my own money, the thing is there is only so much you can do when you are in Venda.

The call was cut short because my airtime got finished. He then made the call to me. Clearly he had a lot to say. The first thing he said in the that call was that he was not interested in what I had to say and he did not want to debate with it. So I let him do the talking. He told me that I was ungrateful and feel entitled to his money, and that I think he gets the money he gives me from somewhere. I do not know where this talk of entitlement and ingratitude was coming from and when I raised that point, he reminded me that he is not debating me('Okay?'). He said now that I have a degree, I can take care of myself and this gives him an opportunity to help other people in need. I raised the point that having a Bcom degree does not mean I can go and work since I am on the CA route, something he knows. That's when he asked me if I expected him to support me until I do my PhD. I found that question very unfair, since I have no intention to do PhD or anything beyond what is required for my articles, which is Postgraduate Diploma in Accounting(PGDA, hereafter). From then I realised that I was not going to get the money so I did not say anything after that and neither was I interested in what he had to say. One thing I remembered is him telling me to never contact him again. I was shattered.

This is the person who has paid for all my bus and plane tickets, who has given me monthly allowances since first year of university, who has helped build my family a shelter, who has paid for my church youth camps and directly bought him clothes once, who has accommodated me at his house. Generally, this is the person who has helped me financially more than anyone else and we are not related. About how he got helping me and my family out, that is a story for another day. I could not believe that this was the same person I was with on the phone earlier. The thing is, there was no warning signs. He told me that I should have known that he will not help me beyond my first degree. The fact that he knew that I could not just go to work and still pursue my CA career with just a first degree(Bcom) did not matter to him. He was done with me and had other kids to take care of. He has done so much for me and for that, I will forever be grateful but right now I cannot see him beyond that phone call and ignored messages. It's like those phone calls erased everything he and his family has ever done for me. I guess it is true what Maya Angelou said, that people may forget what you have done for them but they will never forget what you have made them feel. For the first time, I felt like I was a burden to him all this time when he was helping me.

 I was mad at him at this point but not because he refused to give me money(It was his money and I do not feel entitled to it as he claimed). I was mad because he did not make it clear for how long he was going to support me. Had he made that clear enough, I would have not written those Facebook messages, SMS's and would have saved myself from the embarrassment I suffered from the phone calls. I should have known, so he said. My hope is that with the other people that he is helping, he does not expect them to just know when he will stop supporting them, that he actually tells them when he will withdraw his support. I would not want to see anyone left hanging like I was. I knew his support would come to an end some day but just did not know that it would be before I actually finish my studies. I was on NSFAS for my undergraduate studies and from the word go, the Financial Aid Office told me that NSFAS would only fund me until I obtain my first degree. When I was doing my final year, I knew I would lose NSFAS at the end of the year and I made alternative plans for mt postgraduate studies, I got a partial bursary with a Big 4 Accounting firm. So my point is, his failure to tell me when he would stop his support made it impossible for me to make alternative plans about where and how I would get the money to fill the void his withdrawal of support would make.

At this point it is clear that he will not give me the money for transport and I have to get to Cape Town for a week. I found myself crying sitting outside, luckily it was at night. I decided not to tell my mom about this. Luckily, I had money. The thing is, the new bursary I had with a Big 4 firm gave me the book allowance and meal allowance when I was still at home. Universities normally open in late January and early February so when the firm was making payments to students in other universities that had opened by then, they even made the payment to me despite the fact that I was not yet back at school(The beauty of long holidays, lol). I decided that I would use some of that allowance to pay my bus trips, from Venda to Pretoria and from Pretoria to Cape Town. My friend booked the bus tickets to Cape Town. Luckily she stays in Pretoria so I arrived there the day before my trip to Cape Town. She has always wanted me to come to her house, so this was a win-win situation for us. Normally I would stay at the guy's house for the night before heading to Cape Town but now that he told me not to contact him again, I cannot. I managed to get to Cape Town and that was the goal then.

I was just just glad to make it here safely and so ready to hit the ground running with my books after a three-month school holiday. Back to the grind. Schools will re-open and I will need the books and food. The fact that I used the book allowance to get to Cape Town means that I might not have enough money for books. Everyone knows how expensive Accounting handbooks and textbooks(ignore the differences between the two '-books' for now) are and the editions usually change every year. I was going to be doing four courses for my PGDA namely Financial Reporting IV, Taxation III, Corporate Governance III and Managerial Accounting & Finance. They are significant changes to the Reporting and Governance handbooks but I only decided to buy ones for Reporting and would hustle my way around the changes to the Governance ones. Luckily for Tax, there were no major amendments to the Income Tax Act so I did not need to buy a new one. For Managerial Accounting, there was no handbooks and the recommended textbooks were the ones used in the pre-requisite course, which I had bought the previous year. The fact that I did not have to change my handbooks for some courses really saved from a potential financial and academic crisis. I would like to believe that I have sufficient resources to make success of my studies.

After buying the required books, I only have the meal allowance. It was really a meal allowance, because it is so little that I can only buy food with. This means that I can barely afford any non-food expenditures. This is a far cry from what I had a year earlier, when I still had a monthly living allowance from NSFAS and another allowance from this guy. It was not much even then but I could at least afford some basic non-food expenditures. NSFAS had a living allowance, now this bursary has a meal allowance. With a living allowance, I can afford a basic student life but the best a meal allowance can do is ensure that I do not go to bed with an empty stomach. With the resources that I have and a full stomach, I see nothing coming between and my academic success.

I was very much worried about not affording my non-food expenses until I received an e-mail from my scholarship(remember the bursary is partial, so the scholarship covers the balance) telling me that they would give us class of 2016 graduates some cash as a gift for finishing our degrees. That was a prayer answered. I guess the scholarship guys will never realise how much of a relief that e-mail provided. That money is a gift, meaning I can use it however I want but from the timing, I can tell they want people to use it to cover expenses required to the graduation ceremony. I am glad the graduation ceremony will be on a Saturday, meaning I will not attend as a Adventist so I will use the money for my other needs. Like any student, I have always looked forward to my graduation day but by now I have made peace with my not attending. I have a financial incentive not to do so anyway and have also convinced myself that there would be many more graduation ceremonies to come

I had been used to getting help from the guy that I thought he was the only person who could help me. The good Lord has shown me otherwise, that He has numerous ways to take care of His own. It is so refreshing to know my success or lack thereof does not depend on any earthly being. As I continue with this journey, my prayer is that I never go to bed hungry, and I am able to use my resources to the best of my abilities. Even more importantly, that I never live my life trying to prove to the guy or anyone else that I can be fine on my own, because I cannot. May money not ever be a stumbling block and may other benefactors avail themselves should a need arise.

I have learnt to go back to the basics, of counting my blessings and be grateful for much that the Lord has given me. I have a Bachelor's degree, have been accepted into a graduate programme, have someone to pay for my tuition, books, meal and accommodation. And what I do not have time for, is self-pity!

Misplaced!, on Upper

On the Devil's Peak, overlooking Cape Town CBD

Ntombi asked me why I was so quiet in a group chat we(or they) were having in the classroom after a lecture, it was concerning I guess. I told her I was fine, just worried about the BAG exam that we were going to write in a few minutes. Yes I was worried about the exam but that was not the reason I wasn't participating in the discussion about the high school experiences. The real reason I was so quiet was because I couldn't relate to what they were talking about. They all went to 'Model C' high schools, so they were talking about how they liked or hated Afrikaans, the books they read like Othello and Animal Farm etc. And there I was, misplaced. This was just one of many times, outside of formal class, that I find myself struggling to fit in and contribute to 'normal' students' conversations on Upper(Upper meaning UCT in its entirety). It was one of those moments that I get reminded that maybe, just maybe, my lived experience is not that of a typical UCT student. I thought maybe now that I am in my third year here, I would have gotten used to it but not really, it still hurts whenever it happens. I just have to comfort myself by saying  that maybe our unique experiences are the ones that make us special and interesting.

I knew I didn't fit in in UCT the moment I signed into Smuts Hall, my home for my first two years here. Everything looked and felt foreign, nothing had prepared me for this. The language will surely be a problem for a person from rural Venda, before you open your mouth you fear that the other person might not get what you would be trying to say. I was fortunate to be allocated to the most isolated flat of  the Smuts Hall building, that way I didn't have to interact with people that much. I chose to stay in that flat in even in my second year there, I didn't really see myself as a Smutsman and perpetuating what they called the Smuts Culture. I would only participate in events that were compulsory, so I was drawn to myself. At least there were a few Venda guys in the house, so I would have those dining hall conversations with people with whom I can relate. I liked the proximity to campus the residence provided(it was literally on Upper Campus) but not so much the social life there.

I will forever be grateful for the amazing people I've met in UCT but I usually find that I don't have much in common with them. We might be in the same degree programme or belong to the same church denomination but outside of that, there's no much to build a friendship on. Even with those ones that I manage to build a friendship with, I'd find that our life experiences have exposed us to different worlds. It's then easy for one to think of their own rural experience as being invalid, because it's something that one can just bring into the discussion table unless they are asked to. Somehow I feel most of my friends here don't even know half about me of what I know about them. Not that I mind that, I am not the most open of people.

I know I needed to do more to get to the level my friends are in, in terms of off-school interests they have. Maybe I am to blame for being behind with everything. What kind of a student doesn't watch series like Game of Thrones and Suits, just to mention two? what kind of boy doesn't follow The English Premiership and other European football leagues and competitions? what kind of a student doesn't follow the NBA? what kind of a student doesn't at least drink, even occasionally?. I am that kind of a student, and I have to admit it does have an impact on the social interactions that I have with other students. The thing is I never saw this as a (potential) 'problem' when I was still in Venda, maybe because it was common to find people like these. Here it's a different world, that world I wasn't ready for. They say it's tough in class, I say it's even tougher outside of class when you don't have a life.

I spend a great deal of my time in my room. It's not because I don't get bored when I am alone there but it's because it's a much  better option than being with people. I really don't fit in in the social life in UCT. I would have to change so much about myself and risk losing myself if I want to fit in. That's not the price I am willing to pay. I know I'm missing out big time on student life and I've made peace with that. I am okay with the spectator position I occupy and I believe I can still learn a lot from the sidelines.

I somehow think things would have been different had I been more self-confident coming into UCT. Self-confident people are go-getters, they don't sit around waiting for things to come their way, they literally make things happen. We were advised to get involved in the campus life during our Orientation week, I ignored that for three whole years. Maybe being by being involved, I would have actually found my place in UCT and make the most out of my time here. I would live to regret the missed opportunities here but I will be wiser when I go into my next chapter of my life.


My friends always ask why I would talk to every Venda person I meet on campus and why I am always happy when doing that, I guess that's how the lost prodigal son felt when he saw his father running towards him after some time in the far country. After feeling lost and misplaced, it's always good to at least see and do something familiar. One needs to be reminded now and then that they are not alone, that others have been through they are going through. Seeing my Venda brothers and sisters always remind me that I have no excuse to give up, that self-pity is not an option and that no matter how misplaced I may feel, there will always be people with whom I could get the sense of belonging.

May I always know that there is a space for me in UCT and that I rightfully deserve to be here. My prayer is that even if I don't find my place in UCT's social life, I find my place in Jameson Memorial Hall in that day in June 2017 among those graduating with a Bcom Accounting degree. Until then, it's work, work, work, work,work, work and no play!

No Rest For The Wicked

 

MemStone, Upper Campus, The University Of Cape Town

I have been looking forward to this short holiday since the beginning of the semester. This wasn't because I wanted to rest, I knew there will never be time for that until I finish with my year-end exams, but because I know I would need this time to tie up my some loose ends academically before the exams. How I spend my time during this holiday will have a huge impact on how ready I will be for the last term of the year. I am hoping that as much as I will work had to catch up on my schoolwork, I will also get a chance to rest properly. The fourth term will surely require me to be on top form, there's so much at stake.

First week into the term, it's going to be a test week in which I'll be writing all my four Final Year Accounting courses. I will be fighting for survival in some of my courses. There's this one I have never passed since the beginning of the year, my performance has dropped in some of them so going into this test week, my back will literally be against the wall. I'm hoping to pass all of them, as that will help me gain some confidence going into the final examinations later in November. We'll see if I'll be able to turn things around, for the better.

There's a Mergers and Acquisition(M&A) project in one of my courses coming, which promises to be an interesting task. There will also be an Auditing project coming up. Both of these are group projects. I don't see myself as much of a team player(it explains why I love running) but I am looking forward to developing my interpersonal skills and learning from the diversity of both teams I am in. Of course I will be out of my comfort zones doing these tasks but I guess it's true what they, you haven't started living until you leave your comfort zone. I really think I have not gotten the most out of my UCT experience so far and I think this will be my chance to grow as a person. I am really hoping to be that team member who adds value to the team. I get along quite well with my mates from both teams, that's a good start.

My biggest problem this year is not that I'm not working hard, but it's that I don't seem to get anything right. It's one of those moments in which I wish I knew what they mean by 'working smart'. I know I'm doing my best but my best isn't good enough. Dealing with constant failure, especially academic, isn't something I'm used to, I've always thought of myself as that guy who knows his way around his books. This holiday presents a wonderful opportunity for me to pause and think about what I'm doing and how I can improve. There's always so much happening during the term, which makes it almost impossible for one to sit back and reflect on what they are doing and how best they can do it. There's always a tutorial to do, a lecture to attend/watch, a deliverable to submit, a workshop to attend. In such an environment, it's easy for one to lose perspective and just go with the flow. Right now I need time to remind myself of why I am doing this and what it will mean for me if I do it right.

Unlike other holidays, this is not the time to just chill and watch Youtube videos. This is time to once again fall in love with my books & with my dreams and get my academic life back on track. I really have to regain my passion for Accounting, I can't keep on doing work 'just to get it done with'. My conversations about schoolwork shouldn't be focused on the doom and gloom, where's the hope?. I will work on reviving that positive spirit in me before we re-open. I will have to be very self-critical, I can't be in denial, my grades are showing that there really are things that I am doing wrong. I don't know if I am deceiving myself but I think there's still enough time for me to still get it right. Like I said, I need to be on my top form for the fourth term. Until then, there will be no rest for the wicked!

 

The Grand Finale: The Last Few Steps

This has to be the most important semester in my UCT undergraduate career. A lot is at stake now, I need to graduate, meet the admission requirements for the Accounting postgraduate programme and also get funders for the programme. With all that, I can't just 'survive', I need to do well. We have some individual and group projects coming up. It has to be the most academically demanding semester so far. I feel like the past five semester didn't prepare me enough for this.

Lately I have been asking myself if I have what it takes to make it thorough this semester. I am sure I'm not pushing myself hard enough. I only do what I am required to do and that's not enough to even pass, there's more that one has to do on their own. I don't think I can even study properly any more, I'm not as productive as I used to be. Even when my marks suck, I forgive myself easily. When I think of where I am right now and where I would want to be, I think it would take a miracle for me to get there. I have never been in such a bad space academically and it scares me that this is happening in my final semester. What scares me the most is the fact that I don't have any solid plan to rescue myself.

I usually miss the lectures for my major, Financial Reporting and even if I attend, I usually don't understand the content being taught. I don't do my tutorials properly. I don't think I have much to offer to my group mates in our BAG project, general I'm not comfortable with this BAG course. I have not passed a Corporate Governance test. I am scared of Management Accounting, it's one of those courses about which it's easy to say you will fail no matter how much you work on it. The only Accounting course that I'm comfortable with is Taxation II, it's the only one in which I've managed to obtain marks above the averages for the two tests we have written so far. I know most people in final year are feeling the pressure and not doing well but I have never been the person who finds comfort in the fact that he's not alone in the struggle. Yes, I might be in the same boat with many people but it's my personal responsibility that I jump out of that boat and fight for my survival.

I have been struggling to stay motivated. I need to go back to the drawing board and remind myself of why I'm doing this. I will need to remind myself of how I fear not amounting to anything in life. I will need to remind myself of how much of a privilege it is to study at one of the most pretigious institutions of higher learning in the African Continent and about how many lives back home can be changed if I play my part responsibly. At the end of the day, it's not just about me but also about other people who can be inspired by my success. I need to develop and implement a rescue plan before it's too late. This will require me to be very honest with myself and maybe even stop being too forgiving towards myself. I thought knowing that graduation is around the corner would keep me motivated but so far it has not. The semester will not get any easier and if some things do not change, I will only have myself to blame for my failure.

The year in general has not been great. I hope I'll be able to turn it around in the last few months of the semester. As it's Olympics time, I'm reminded of the fact that it's not how you start but how you finish that matters. I hope I will finish strong. Watch the space!

The Tendani I Know

Khangwelo and Tendani, 2014. 

It is easy to establish that the title of this post is inspired by the book The Thabo Mbeki I Know written by different dignitaries about the life and the times of the former state President Thabo Mbeki. But unlike the Mbeki book, this post is written by an ordinary man about the life of an ordinary woman.  It's Tendani's life through my lens.

In my previous post, I talked about Tendani but the focus was on the few months immediately before her death and how her passing affected me as a person and my family. When I went home for her funeral, my biggest wish(other than finding closure, of course) was to get a chance to talk about her at her memorial service. That was not because I believed I know her more than anyone else but it was because I believe she was highly misunderstood. She had that 'love her or hate her' character, and that's one thing I found rather interesting about her. She could be very difficult at times but deep down she was a very nice person. We all have our own demons and sometimes they get the better of us.

Just a reminder that she was my mom's firstborn child and for a long time we believed she was also my dad's first child, until 'real' one showed up. We are(were) six from my mother's side. One thing which is very obvious about us is that we are very different, both in appearance and in character. Everyone is just their own person. I like it that way, as it makes it easier for everyone to stay in their own lane. If there's anything that we shared, it was our struggles, typical of a family whose father had left to form another one. It was our struggles that helped us to have that family bond, realising that we only had ourselves. I tried to talk about family in my other blog post.

Being the firstborn meant that she was the first one to pass matric and enroll at a tertiary institution. She enrolled at Techniven(now known as Vhembe TVET College Makwarela Campus). I was very young at the time and the only thing I remember is that she used to take an early morning bus to the college and an evening one back. She could only afford the monthly bus ticket and that means you would have to spend the whole day in town, roaming the streets after classes without pocket money, waiting for the evening bus. It seems she didn't really have a great time there and she could not finish what she was registered for. It was only later when we were talking about our dad that she mentioned that she said he was reluctant to give her money to pay for subsequent semesters(The #FeesMustFall struggles have been part of Black students' lives since time immemorial). She didn't really talk much about my dad and this time, she was talking with a sense of disappointment in him. Remember she was the first child at home, and unlike some of us, she was born in a normal family setting when my dad stayed in our family home. This means that she was used to him, she loved him and believed he could/should give her anything she wanted. Then things had changed, he didn't stay with her, she had to go to him to ask for things and now he's not giving her what she believed was her basic right. I think that really broke her as a person, especially coming from a person she had looked up to as a dad.

I do not know if this came from the fact that she grew up with our dad around then but she had some 'spoilt brat' tendencies. This I am saying because she could not beg. If she asks for something and you couldn't give her, she would leave you as that, she just could not persist. I guess that's why she had to drop out of college rather than convincing my dad to continue funding her tuition(which was not much hey). I believe she had an independent thinking attitude but unfortunately in her short life, she never reached a pointed at which she was fully financially independent. No one could tell her what to do, somehow I believe my mom feared her. My mom would not hesitate to tell any of us when we did something wrong but with Tendani, she could not do that directly. Rules would apply to the five of us, but not to Tendani. Whatever anyone brought to the house belonged to everyone in the house, the community of property type of thing but Tendani's things were Tendani's things, no one can just use them with her prior permission. I think that's where the part of being more difficult to live with comes in. She was her own person and would try to be independent as much as she could. I see a lot of her in people I know who self-identify as 'feminists' and I am sure she would have identified as one had she been the level of education I have.

She had had conflicts with my older brother. Those two were not best of friends. I do not know why but he was that person she was always harsh to. That is why I was very impressed with how supportive he was to her when her illness got worse. I guess it's true when they say blood is thicker than water. My maternal uncle was the other person she didn't get along with. In our father's absence, he was a father figure to us and she didn't like the fact that he was not afraid to call her out when she was wrong. I didn't know much about her relationship with her baby daddy but it was healthy for the sake of the child. The climax of her conflicts was when she hit my mother one morning in early 2014, I will not say anything about the cause and it was highly unreasonable in every sense of the word. That was the first time I ever cried in Cape Town(I cry a lot here). It was in my first few days in UCT, I was happy about my new beginnings and then I received a call about the infighting at home. That was the time I was most disappointed with her. My mom decided against opening a criminal case against her and the issue was resolved in-house. She later became very apologetic and her and my mom became very close, it was an envy of everyone. The issue really had the potential of breaking my family up and I still find it very amazing that we were able to move past that as a family. I still do not understand how my mother specifically was able to move past that. I guess I will never get to understand the depth of a mother's love, the one that allows them to see us beyond our worst mistakes.

I think what is important in all human relationships is to understand each other and take advantage of each other's good attributes, because one thing is for sure, we can't be all bad. We all have that good side and I think we all strive to be the better version of ourselves. Most people who have played major roles in short life story have been those who the society has labelled as bad and heartless, those I have been warned about. Only if we can dig deeper, not just focus on the surface, we can find how kind and caring these monsters can be. What I intended to show in the previous paragraphs was that she was not an angel, as no human being is expected to be one. She had her own shortcomings and she paid big time for that. One thing I'm sure humbled her in her last days is the people she tried to push away and didn't appreciate much(my brother and uncle) were the ones in the forefront, trying to find any help possible for her. That's how I learnt not to hold grudges, an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind so they say.

The people who had mastered the art of living with her were her friends. She had more friends than any of us. I believe I have many good and close friends but her circle was surely much wider than mine. Many of her friends that attended her funeral raised a concern that they were not told about her illness but the truth is, in a short space of time in which her illness got worse, it was not possible to contact them. When we used to stay in a one-roomed house, which had a leaking room, we always knew that on rainy days, she would always have a place to lay her head. I do not know how the fact that most of them later became successful and got married made her feel. I said she had an independent thinker's attitude and I believe she did not fully unleash her potential, that thought might have tortured her. Her attitude was that of a woman who's her own person but she didn't have much to back her up. At her time, she didn't have the opportunities that I have, to build herself up to be that independent woman she had the attitude of. From that, I learn that I have to use my opportunities wisely and not fall into the same trap she fell into. I am not and never claim to be the wisest in my family, I believe I have just had the opportunities that no one in my family had. For that I will forever be grateful to the Almighty.

At some point in her life, she was baptised into the Seventh Day Adventist church, the church I am a member of. I remember her singing the hymns back then and I liked it. My joining the church had nothing to do with her though, as she had left the church long before I joined. I still do not know why she left the church but I believe the restrictive nature of the church's teachings did not sit well with her. Even long after leaving the church, she still loved Adventist weddings and would always attend with her friend Munyadziwa, who is a member. After I came to Cape Town, she would always call to tell me about these beautiful wedding ceremonies she attended. She would always be lively in those calls, I will miss that voice. I had hoped that one day she would attend mine but God had other plans. Generally, it saddens me that she will never get to see the kind of man I am going to be but I will try to be the kind of man she would have been proud of. We have struggled together and I have always hoped that one of us would make it and all of us would share the fruits of that success. Now I am closer to the finish line but one of us would not be there to witness as I cross the line and possibly start a new positive chapter of our family's life.

Her interactions with her daughter Ndihone(her only child) is what we will miss the most in the house. Their screaming matches were our daily bread. Just like her, Ndihone is very stubborn and likes getting things her way. I have to say that if there was anyone in the house that Tendani could give in to, it was Ndihone. Ndihone was her weakness. They would have their catfights when people are there but when left alone, they were best buddies. It was always funny when Tendani says Ndihone is a spoilt brat, when all of us see a reflection of Tendani in Ndihone. Tell me about two bulls in the one kraal. There's no doubt that she loved her daughter wholeheartedly and in Ndihone, she has left us a reminder of a sister we loved unconditionally. 'Ndihone' means 'I am here' and through Ndiho, Tendani will always be with us. I hope one day we'll sit with Ndiho and reflect on the memories of her mother, Ndiho will miss her mom. In my house they had always been kids from my other sisters and we all knew that Tendani wasn't a children's person. Hers was only Ndiho but that was until my other sister gave birth to her last-born son Ritonde. She loved Rito so much as her own and because of that, I say now that Tendani has left us with two children. It's pity that Rito was only two years old when she died, meaning that he might never remember the mother he had in Tendani. Just looking at Rito in the burial site on that sad day made me cry so much, in my mind I was saying 'only if he knew what he had just lost'. She still had a lot to offer to those two kids. We'll be there for Ndiho but what we'll do will never come close to the warmth of her mother's love. I believe her father and paternal granny, with whom she lives now, will do a great job in raising to be the girl we will all be proud of.

Going home for long UCT holidays will never be the same again. Just like her, I am always at home. This means that she's the person I would always be talking to. She would be complaining about me banging the door, we would watch the morning repeats of soapies together, we would sit under the shade together in those hot summer days, when I go to town she would tell me to do something for her, we would have those late night chats outside the house when we can't sleep due to the heat inside the house(Venda summers), she would be singing loudly from the her room in the afternoon ans she hated it when I disturbed her sleep because a friend(remember, she had a lot of them) came to see her, she would complain when I use her phone and data for social media and other stuff. Just like my mom, she was that one person who had interest in my friends, always asking 'where's who'?' 'what's s/he doing?. I grew very close to her in the past few years because the sister I actually grew up with got married and moved out. She was my big sister and would stand up for me against classism, she would not tolerate nonsense from anyone. She would not say it openly but she was proud of me. In her honour, I will try my best to be a good uncle to Ndiho. Ndiho loves school and would have Tendani to WhatsApp her homework questions to help her out.

Surely we will have never our family as we knew it. Tendani will be missed, she was our prima donna, and we loved her for that. She had class and in her day, she could not be defined by where she came from. Even in her dark days, she knew her worth. If there's anything of hers I would want to have, it's her confidence and individuality. She wasn't much to the world but she was the apple of our eye, literally the most beautiful of us all. I never knew how much I loved her until I lost her. I wish I told her how much I loved her and that I had forgiven her unreservedly for what she did to my mother. I am still coming to terms with the fact that I will never see her again. I keep dreaming about her and I hope she's at peace wherever she is. I will cherish the memories I had with her and a few photos we took together. She is the closest person I have ever lost, her death will always hurt when I think about it. I find comfort in the fact that she is now at rest, as she was in really in pain in the few months before her death.