To My Lover: Part 1 Spoiled for choice.

To My Lover

Spoiled for choice

Have you hated someone for loving you too much and for desiring change in his past through you? Who would give up everything for you to be the best of the best?  Who is so blatantly naïve and knowingly commits to this blindness because you are his offspring that not even ‘Wintery’ odds could stop you from budding? Have you ever been selfish by wanting this suffocating love when life has made you want your last breathe to be imminent? Have you ever had love that’s so unique that makes you a stranger to your own surroundings? Have you ever been loved that there’s no love for anyone else to give? Have you ever been loved that assistance is doubted to be sufficient because this lover doesn’t assist, but inherits your hitch? One never realizes what he has when he is spoiled for choice, and who said we aren’t living our parents’ dreams?

I grew up in two worlds I wanted to belong to one that thought I was too intact and escape the other one I loathed even though demographically I belonged. I was educated belonged to the much hated ‘English-Language-Lovers’ ‘Non-Whites’ (Franz’s definition of another form of blacks), I wanted to be so ‘broken’ that I use to borrow my sister’s kakis so that I can pretend to go to the same school as hers. If it meant being one with my family meant to be so called broken then I wanted to be damaged. I admired ‘criminal minded’ beings they became my role models, admired their frustration which transcended into my rebellion so devoted in changing the world’s injustice. It could only be achieved by showing my loyalty; I had to join in their ideology and activities. I frowned upon English, ‘Coconuts’ even though I went to school with them, admired taxi drivers, hated TV games, loved the most inclusive sport (football), loved anything that was not new to my people, loved umasikandi music, made a promise to myself never to be like the other Ixopo going ‘pussies’. This meant I would want to be a lot of things in life, and what I aspire to should not shift me away from my people anything that would make me feel in deep into the world I loathed meant it wasn’t for me.

I wanted to be many things in life, a taxi driver, soldier, footballer, town planner, lawyer, architecture, artist, accountant Chartered Accountant (CA); many of these changed with time and were influenced by people who surrounded me. There one that came much later of which I thought I really wanted to be is an accountant, I hated accounting but the hype about it and the joy it brought to my lover made me want it more. Close to grade 12 I realised I would be too deep, I could picture the disconnection I wanted to pool away. My lover saw it as fear and low self-esteem which had some truth in it, but truthfully speaking people doing it lacked adventure, rebellion, a sense of debate I admired in people they seemed more into keeping the status quo. My lover was adamant he wanted me to do this, I mean we the race who cannot afford to experiment with the choices we make (Franz Fanon) I could not explain all this infatuation with insurgence, it was a scarce skill and I would be able to amend his past through my accomplishment. Mrs Forgarty saw a Philosopher the fact that I hardly spoke in class her opinion validated my envisioned quest in life besides these people (Philosophers) had a continuous internal debate in the pursuit of ‘human-development’. I admired and followed many of these people they are pro barred people of which my people were, but many of them did not study Philosophy it was inborn they had other careers. My lover had facts and I had dreams!

Livingstone High School Badge

Livingstone had geared me for whatever I could stand in the mist of giants, but the thought what academic jungle to conquer made sleep impossible thoughts was my rest. I studied in the Western Cape which had an exceptional matriculation pass rate which made passing nothing of an issue. I had applied to many prestigious Universities my subject choice meant with the right results I could follow any career, I was spoiled for choice. I struggle with how did I perform; did I get a D, C maybe I can be ambitious and say a B or an A average. I could not get my results or see my name in the papers I was at home and home papers didn’t show Western Cape or other provinces’ results, but my lover saw me dying from suspense and asked someone to go check for me. Maybe Merit to other people is an under achievement, but to me it was unbelievable some of the symbols alluded me most of my high school life. I was grateful, but this constant stanch of worrying didn’t allow me to celebrate. Where to from here?

My lover could not wait we had to go to Cape Town and follow through on my application, he made calls I went to enquire only to find out in other universities I have been accepted or could apply late and make it he had organised for me to speak with the right people and of cause I was rejected by others. I had University of the Western Cape (UWC), University of Stellenbosch, Cape Peninsula University of Technology (CPUT) Bellville and Cape Town campuses, I was spoiled for choice. All of these could not suffice to what I and my lover wanted; I wasn’t going to do accounting there and be a CA. 

Rhodes University Logo

It was the 19^th of January when we had exhausted our search for possibilities to our yearned for future, there were post boxes next to the lift while waiting for the lift it was common to pick pocket one’s posts box for new letters. There was a brown military letter with a red ‘Rhodes University Where Leaders Learn’ stamp it came when we took a decision for me to take a gap year apply again next year for the desired career. I opened it with an unchangeable idea of what I would do this year; do my licence and take a gap year. The news of the letter did not move me at all because although I have been accepted I still did not know what Bachelor of Commerce (BComm.) I was accepted for, that was the only game changer. My lover took it upon him to go consult and he was told I was spoiled for choice, ‘first year BComm subjects are the same one will choose his or her majors in second year’.

All Roads Lead to Rhodes

The Eastern Cape was calling me a land of AmaGqika that I have never heard off I did not know what to expect, but my lover’s commitment to his naiveté charmingly suppressed my nerves…TO BE CONTINUED

 

The end of the beginning

When the rein of Apartheid ended South Africa became a country of hope, but recently it has become one of hopelessness. This is due to poverty, crime, unemployment, inequalities; disastrous state of education, corruption, greed the list is endless. Those who suffer the brunt of this sordid boon of the past regime are those paralysed by the lack of means of ever escaping such an unpromising place. There are miracle stories of those who do flee such a place and become man amongst men, but we misconstrue this as a possibility for everyone to walk the same road. I call these miracle stories that rebel odds-exception to the rule that can never be true for everyone. We often believe our destiny is not defied by where we come from; our illusion sneaks in when we assume this wilful assertion dismisses the limitation of one’s background on one’s destiny.

I am defined as a class that has much growth promise and hope, but which is in-between the meagre and affluent state of our lives. I have experienced poverty and deprivation, but at list my background offered me hope to break away from the surge of breadline. This came by through education in previously disadvantage schools of Indians, Coloureds and church owned Black schools. Some of my peers who were not offered such an opportunity fully display the gaps that are sometimes blurry to me. The point of no return where one sees the importance of quality is during matriculation. This is the year where students and or schools compete for life elevation. It is quite ironic how we get surprised by the gap in achievements amongst students and schools, but all this time earlier standards reflected the future of one’s results.

The most difficult year in my formal education was grade 11; grade 12 was easy. What made grade 11 tricky was that it was the foundation on which to continue from in grade 12. What grade 12 had was too much work to cover, social activities of all kind, pressure of making it to the best university and choosing a viable career all of this was fitted in limited time. The stress of success, being better than ones parents and achieving as highly as possible haunted all those who received quality education. The question of failing never dawned in me it was a matter of how high my marks will be affording me a place in one of the influential universities. Success was inevitable, being better was predestined especially for us who were to be the first to go institutes of higher education, the teacher stuff and support made achieving highly foreseeable. If one felt so positive how could one fail? How did those who had no such resources feel? Did they give up? Did they feel inferior to other students? Did they put their dreams into hold to escape the mockery of realist? My fear of hypocrisy averts me from answering these painful questions.

What I battled with was choosing the right career and university, fortunately we had Vocational Guidance every Wednesday which afforded us the chance to do job shadowing, get presentations of  different careers and most importantly what subject choices met those careers. This occurred as early as grade 11, when I knew people who wanted careers which they could not do due to misguided subject choice. Universities around the Western Cape were also organised to come and tell us all about their institutions, there were career days where we went to them snooped around, looked at their brochures, asked questions and received the right answers. This happened in a country where I know people who have no access to such universities. These institutions went as far as selling their institution to us, claiming to be the best at what they do. It was a matter of choosing the institution that best suited you. How could one study towards his chosen career when his or her subject choice was wrong? How could one choose the right and best university when one has not heard of such institutions? It was in this class that I first discovered Rhodes University even though I am from the Eastern Cape. There was a folded form with no brochure lying around one of my classmate picked it up and asked, “What is this? Where is it from?” The teacher bestowed her wisdom sarcastically, “It’s written there on the form, and it’s a university from the Eastern Cape”. He threw it to me while uttering the not so startling words, “Eastern Cape (that’s what they called me), take this and apply”. I took it home to other forms from the University of Stellenbosch, University of the Western Cape, Cape Peninsula University of Technology, University of Cape Town, Witwatersrand University, and University of KwaZulu-Natal. I applied to all the only difference with this form to others was that these came with an envelope and a brochure; I applied with no presented guidance, and care from my side.

The environment was ideal for success, my father’s exceptional support granted nothing but success, the teachers’ magnificent skill advocated knowledge beyond measure and most importantly their shared wisdom of what to expect in University although it sometimes brought fear and unworthiness made entering higher education seamless. Although university is a place where one discovers himself my form of personal expression and knowledge loving was discovered in my latter years of my schooling. This occurred when I met women who loved power of knowing and wanting to know. Mrs Forgarty showed me the value of curiosity being on the quest of fighting not knowing and her teachings of the most important gear of higher education being research, discussion-essay construction, and referencing; Mrs Du Plooy’s intrigued love of efficiency and principled acquiring of knowledge with no favours and total inclusion; and Mrs Kay’s love and respect for her student beyond measure, knowing when to laugh and to be serious and knowing every students’ potential and warmly unleashing it.

I got all of this, but I received it with so much guilt as I could not walk sightless to escape witnessing the state of some in my families’, homeboys’ and home-girls’, countrymen’s education.