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.

After The Storm

I don't know how I came to the title of the post but it seemed perfect, because clearly after the storm, nothing stays the same. Everything changes, most usually for the worst. Storms literally shakes us off our comfort zones and there's nothing we can ever do to properly prepare ourselves for them. We'll just have to accept the situation as it is and gather the strength to move on, no matter how hard it is.

Losing my sister Tendani has to be the worst thing I've ever gone through in my young life. It's not that I have never lost a close relative before. I lost my maternal grandmother in 2011, who was the only grandparent I got to know. I lost my dad in 2012. I cried in my grandma's funeral, largely because I saw my mom crying(it's always an unpleasant sight to see a parent in such a helpless state). I also cried in my dad's funeral, because I was so worried about what his death meant for our well-being. Although he did not actually live with us(story for another day), he was the sole breadwinner. I never had a personal relationship with either my dad or my grandma. To my dad, I was just one of his many children and to my grandma, I was just one of her grandkids(no strings attached to both). With Tendani, it was different. She knew me, not just as her little brother but as Khangwelo.

I knew she was sick, she told us about her illness and she was very confident that she could survive it. She tried to be brave but I guess we can all reach a breaking point. Her illness got really worse few months before her death. I could hear the change in her voice whenever I called her. It got awkward when I spoke to her for the last time, exactly a week before she died. Her voice was soft and down and I could feel that even telling her that I was praying for her wasn't going to help her case. Other family members didn't really tell me the seriousness of her illness, I guess they didn't want to stress me. It was only when they were taking her to the hospital for the last time that I realised that things had gotten out of hand, the panic in my other sister's voice was obvious, my mom has always been the stronger one. I was shaking as I went to write a Company Law test that evening. But still, I had the hope that things were going to work out well.

With you far away and a family member on a deathbed, you really don't wanna receive a call from back home. But it was inevitable. On Sunday the 24th of April, my uncle called. The Lord has given, the Lord has taken. My worst fear has become a reality. I realised that it was no time to be a 'man' and started crying while I was still on the call. I was not ready. Nothing could have prepared me for that call, not even the fact that I knew she was sick. I found myself crying all alone in my big Forest Hill room, being both the comforter and the comforted. One thing I didn't wanna hear was how my mom and my sister's daughter were taking it, I didn't want to hear anything that would break me any further. At some point, calls had to be made and statuses had to be updated. I had to face the world and whatever I was going through head-on. ''What we cannot change, we have to accept'', the words of our deputy principal after the passing of our principal in my matric year echoed in my mind that day.

I had a lot of questions on my mind then, for which I had no answers. Will I make it to her funeral? Where will I get the money to take me back to Venda at such a short notice? will my family to give her a dignified funeral? what will happen to her only daughter Ndihone? will my mother, after losing her own mom and husband, be able to survive this?. The thoughts of not being at her funeral, her not getting a decent send-off due to financial constraints, Ndihone growing up without the motherly love we all deserve, and my mother tortured me that week. My family story has always been this that one of pain and tears but this was too much. It is better to be in to suffer in a group, to share a story with others but when one of you dies, it breaks all of you remaining. It kills the morale of the team. One of us was down, we had to look forward with our tear-dimmed eyes to make sure that we make the best of a very bad situation.

About going home for the funeral, I had friends who were planning to pay for my transport to and from Venda. But I had made up my mind that I wasn't going, because I thought that the money they would give me for transport could be better utilised at home for funeral arrangements than for transporting me. I convinced them that I would be fine even without going home to find closure. That was until I got a call from my friend Lutendo, who could not take a no from an answer. She managed to convince me to go home and that there would still be money to send home for arrangements. They bought my plane tickets and made sure that I had enough money for other necessities. I will forever be grateful for Lutendo's call and all my friends'contributions that ensured that I was able to get to Manamani on time to pay my last respects.

The funeral went well. Nothing was more comforting than the love of the people of Manamani, it's amazing how people are able to be there for each other, even without incentives. There's no time in which one could value living in a community more than in the time of death in a family. People coming to evening prayer services and the funeral service in numbers is just amazing. Tendani was undoubtedly the one who had more friends in the family(we are all friendly people at my house). Other than Ndihone, there's nothing that reminds me of Tendani more than her friends. It's fine now when I'm here in Cape Town but I don't know how it will make me feel when I see her friends when I go home, I can't bear their sight. I guess the send-off was at a level that I would consider dignified. The presence of the her comrades from the Pan Afrikanist Congress was felt, they went out of their way to send off one of their own.

After the funeral, there had to be a change in my family life as  we know it. Her daughter Ndihone had to leave to stay with her father in Soweto. This left our house with only two people staying full-time, my mom and my younger brother Nungo. To think that we used to be very populated. I'm just glad Ndihone is with her other family and I am sure they will raise her into a girl that we will all be proud of. She will miss her mom, just as we all do and the warmth of the dad's love will strengthen her. I will surely miss their arguments, how they would always fight as they were both stubborn. My prayer is that we maintain a relationship with her, that her living with her dad's family doesn't make us neglect the responsibility to take care of her as far as we can.

My mom is doing well, although she avoids mentioning her name in our phone conversations and refers to her death as 'that thing'. Actually, all family members cannot freely talk about her or her death. I am hoping that as time goes on, we will openly talk about her and share our best moments with her. I guess that what she would have wanted. That can really help in our healing process.

If there's anything this has taught me, it is to appreciate life and the people in it. And now I don't fear death as much as I did before her death, I've realised that death actually happens to normal people, people we fight with, smile with, eat with and cry with. It's part of the human experience. We cannot avoid it. Her death has taught me to take advantage of the opportunities granted to me, as not many had them. To appreciate people more, as I don't know how much time I have with them.

As an Accounting student, I would say death is a provision, we know it will happen to us, we just don't know when. As a Tax student, I would say to the living, we are not exempt from dying, ours is just deferred. I will forever love you, Tendani.

Finalist: Matric Fever All Over Again!

My UCT academic journey so far has been almost perfect: passing all my courses at first sitting and enough to qualify for subsequent ones, failing only a few tests in-between. This means that I was able to get to 3rd academic year of study in my 3rd year in UCT. I can safely say I've survived. My scholarship guys are very impressed with my performance and I too have become more realistic, I celebrate every victory, no matter how close it was to a loss. Thou shalt not be deceived, you must claim even easy victories in UCT, 'cause they can be very few.

Mine is a very good start for someone from a school/background like mine, who was never part of the Academic Development programme. But I'm not so much interested in how much/little I have accomplished, I'm more interested in the road ahead. It's good to reflect on all the good things I have achieved but it becomes of no use it that which I achieved is not going help me in the road ahead. The journey continues and I hope I have built the foundation I laid in the last two years will be strong enough to sustain me as I continue the building. So many lessons learnt, which I hope are relevant for the future.

I have never been this fearful going into an academic year, I have never doubted myself this much. 'Do I have what it takes to be a UCT Bcom graduate in normal time?' is the question that has been bothering since attending the introductory lectures this week. I have just moved into a self-catering residence, I have the highest number of courses in a semester ever in my UCT career, I have to look for a sponsor for postgraduate funding etc. I am really being tested and my survival in this will say a lot about my character. I am teaching myself how to keep my cool even in the middle of a storm, hoping to have learnt that by year end. With all these, it's so easy to get overwhelmed.

I live by faith, and because of that, I don't look at the strength/magnitude of what I have to come across, I look at the power of God who has my back. I strongly believe that God will finish what He has started in me. There's so much to learn and many more to unlearn. Graduation in December is the main goal, if that doesn't motivate me to 'survive' this year, I don't know anything else that can. Graduation, just like appearing in a newspaper with some brackets, will hopefully motivate me to bring out the best in myself. If not me, then who?