I have been thinking,today,that I have always been an observer in my most memorable seasons of my life.The only time I could say I was an active part of my life was when I was under 5 years old,lived in a fantastical place in tropical Elim,Limpopo Province.I spoke Shangaan,I used to make my childhood friends my little students...I was quite spirited or lively and confident.
Then life of caution and guard became my reality.That was me in my village home,my parents kept me from the streets,we played in our yard,and it was good,we didnt swear,get naughty,grow up too quick,then Saint Mark´s college came...we lived in a boarding school sorrounded by a village with a strangish Sepedi accent.I met Linah Mkhabela and her beautiful kids at our morning sunday services in the chapel below the library at our school.Jane Furse is a lifetime ago,a special time in my life,Im almost lost reminiscing about that period between 1994 to 1998.Our high school and boarding school was a community on its own.It was too small,so everyone was in everyone else´s business but also big enough so that there was a place in the sun for everyone.There were many students (called pupils then,and now learners) from different ethnic backgrounds,with various talents,economical means and aspirations.Our community was also enriched with the volunteer teachers who were young people from the UK and USA who dedicated a gap year just before they went to university or college,to volunteering their time and knoledge in being substitute teachers.These young teachers were on average the age of our matric students so they were more approachable and quite popular against a stark contrast of rural South Africa and its remoreness from the Western world.I started to learn about friendship and romance and practical psychology there.
Anyway,then came I went to Wits.I was grateful there was some separation from the old high school cocoon.I knew there would be different lessons there.I received them and Im a better person to have been excluded from university once.I can now know I know the agony of failure.The humiliation of trying my hardest and still not making the mark in broad spectable of onlookers.This actually reminds me of the footsteps poem.At that time,yes I did shed tears when I went to collect good behaviour collateral from mt lecturers,yes I did feel shame that I was repeating and yes I did feel anxiety about the future but God really carried me.Our fears are really unrealised.Out of that struggle was triumph.It was baptism with fire and my time at Wits,I know looking back His eye was on me,and His Hand blessed my ways.
Everyone is special and they just need to remember how special they are.
I will share the story of my first employment with fond memories.Another special time I passed through with much resistance but it was all for the good.When I look at it all,I know its possible for things to change 360 degrees from one day to another.I know that its not over until God says so.I live it.So next time I will share that story.
