Is there really more than this?
I know there is more out there. I cannot fully imagine how it looks, tastes or sounds like but I know it is out there. I am tempted to follow this burning urge in me to go and find it but there are a lot of backlashes that I am experiencing. Among them is EXPERIENCE. It is not the green-eyed monster that some people imagined under their bed when they were younger, I must just clarify that I am not among those people, nonetheless, EXPERIENCE is a very scary monster.
It is the one that whispers all these fears that I am trying with everything in me to block. It is the reason for the invisible glass ceiling over my head that I intersect whenever I am climbing the ladder of dreams and future plans.
I know that there is more to me than academics. Mam Khoza (my senior pastor) once asked me a question that left me thinking. She asked but did not expect an answer at that time, but she ignited a thought process that is still continuing in me. “Apart from your academics what are you going to do with your life?”
Perhaps the quotation marks are out of place because those were not her exact words, but they are the words that are on replay in my mind. For as long as I can remember, academics have always taken the highest priority in my life. I needed to be the best. Why? I was not always sure but I always knew that I needed to be the best. My whole life turned to a battlefield, with everything I did always ending up being competitive. You were either with me or competition that I needed to eliminate.
In retrospect, was it the best way I could have went about with my childhood? I am not sure. Anyway, we were discussing the need for more and the monster of experience and not my childhood. Still on the topic though…
Back at school, I guess I was competitive because I truly believed that more had to be out there. I am certain that my surrounding was one factor contributing to that. Daily, I travelled into Queenstown for school from Gqebenya (a village in Lady Frere, Eastern Cape in South Africa), where very little was there to inspire me.
That’s of course not taking into account nature. I must admit that I have always had a thing for the mountains and the sky. When the streets around you are dusty, dry and knocked off like those in my neighbourhood, it helps to find beauty elsewhere. The brewing of summer thunderstorms was always the best cloud-display one could get in the hood. I always secured a front-row seat, from the tiled stoep at the front of the house or by placing an abandoned Castle Lager beer case in the backyard.
Summertime is a little something like this in Gqebenya. The picture is taken from my backyard with Ma’Luja’s house being the white one on the right.
At least then, I would have very few eyes on me, not that people would go out of their way to watch what I was doing. After all, finding people just sitting outside was nothing new. More often than I would have wanted I would see people gathered at Ma’Luja’s house for a round of beers and umqombothi (homemade Xhosa beer). Their gatherings rarely ended peacefully, in contrast, statements drenched with vulgarism would put an end to the loud babbling that filled the whole street. Noise pollution like no other…okay maybe I am being a bit dramatic with the latter statement, but you get the point right?
From pre-school, I remember being introduced to a different world. One that was colourful and full of developments. One where, as a four-year-old, I did not have to fear that one day I was going to drown in the pit latrine and die from suffocation. No, when I was at school, I could flush my waste away and never see or smell it again when I went back to the toilet.
No matter how dreamy that world was, when the clock hit 4 pm I was probably back on my way home and would be forced to quickly face that fear from all the liquids I was drinking on the hour-long journey from town to home. I never really understood why we couldn’t have flushing toilets like the rest of the world (or what seemed to be the rest of the world to my four-year-old mind), but it was such questions that made me want to push for more. Before attending Thistledown Pre-school, I never questioned the way of doing things back home, because my home was the only standard I knew.
As I got older and wiser, not much physically changed around me. People continued doing things as they had always done. The roads and water supply were still a joke. Those with jobs continued with them and a vast majority who were unemployed continued to make umqombothi or attend imicibi (ceremonies/rituals to appease their ancestors) at every opportunity they had. It was not a surprise to see young boys/men my age gathered in a circle and passing a 5-litre enamel container filled with umqombothi around. For a number of years, my father seemed to always find a reason to host these but would put up a fight if I asked him for money related to my growth, but hey that’s a story for another day. We did get a DSTV at some point which accelerated my imagination of the bigger world that lay beyond Gqebenya. It was there that I saw kids with their own rooms, cell phones, cars and swimming pools. They were living the ‘posh life’ that I could only dream of, and dreaming I did do. More often than some would like. If I somewhat found myself getting distracted or too comfortable at school, having to use the toilet at home would always be the reminder I needed.
It was no longer the fear of drowning that haunted me, but the indignity I felt when having to walk to the toilet while some of my neighbours were sitting outside. I could not shake the thought that everyone sees you when you are doing your business and how long it takes you to get it done. Oh, the horror of it all! In reality, I was probably the last thought on people’s minds.
Nonetheless, I would always return from the toilet with the thought that I will change my life with any opportunity I get. So maybe that’s why I wanted to be the best. I felt the need to stand out, so that if anyone was going to be selected to go somewhere, that it would be me without a doubt. Maybe that is why I saw it all as a battlefield because some of my classmates did not walk a day in my shoes. Sure they had their own problems with growing up in townships, but at least they had flushing toilets…many of them.
From the first prize-giving at St Theresa’s Primary School in 2006, until my last one in 2011, I strived for the number one position. With my determination to be the best always being kept in line by the bigger picture embedded within, that a world with more was awaiting.
High School at Maria Louw High was no different. At first, I felt out of place because of the bigger pupil numbers, the taller buildings and the bigger schoolyard but quickly found my feet when I saw Elanor, the head prefect in 2012. She mesmerized me with her black school blazer that displayed badges of achievements on either side. My friends and I joked about how heavy the blazer probably was. Without knowing what the badges were for, I immediately resolved within me that I was going to be like her if not better. Giving God the glory, I did exactly that throughout high school.
This was taken on the prize-giving ceremony in 2013 (my grade 9 year). My mother, Kholisa Kasolo, is the beautiful lady in the picture with me.
It was through my endless involvement in whatever I could do that I saw my potential outside of academics. Without neglecting my school work I also made a mark for myself in leadership and public speaking. Yet none of my achievements would have been possible without the unwavering support of the teachers that stood behind me. The highlight of my high school career was being accepted to study at the Australian National University. The dream to go to nations was always there and that acceptance letter reaffirmed that I was not just some crazy kid with pointless dreams. Although I could not go because of the lack of finances I rejoiced in my victory. In January 2017, I prepared myself to go to Stellenbosch University, with the understanding that it was not my final destination, more awaited me. I still had no clue what the more was.
The level of culture shock I had when I got there, was equivalent to being in a different country. From the architecture, landscape, language and people everything seemed a bit foreign. Don’t get me wrong, it was a good yet intimidating thing. I never openly admitted that to anyone, but rather put on a brave face and ran with the pace that everything was being dished out with. And the first task was getting through welcoming week. Maties O-week is a spectacular, fast-paced and eventful week that one either enjoys or dreads. For the most part, I enjoyed it, but in some quiet moments, I heard the voices inside my head speaking.
If you guessed that experience was one of those voices then you are absolutely correct. That deceptive, vile and loud monster not only recited my shortcomings but constantly painted a picture of the disparity of my background with where I was. It honestly does not take a lot for one to see that the wealth disparity in South Africa unfortunately still exists. “Reality check girl, you don’t belong here. Look at them and look at you. This is their world.”
I continually and consciously fought the wall of separation this villain was building. With much effort, I put out the flames of a “them” that experiencing was busy fueling. This was after all my first time being in a white and Afrikaans dominated environment (in terms of numbers). Sure I did Afrikaans at school but was never exposed to the culture. My school only had Black and Coloured pupils. For the most part, my fight back strategy seemed to work and meeting numerous like-minded people made the journey worth a while.
In no time I learnt to wear my best outfit, my smile, wherever I went in Stellies. Photo credit: C-TheSixth
At the end of the day, we are all just people. I adored the diversity that I encountered like never before. You might think it simple, but being at university allowed me to make Afrikaans, English, Chinese, Indian, Sotho, Tswana, Pedi and Zulu friends on a more frequent base than I was ever exposed to. It was here that I noticed and truly appreciated how unique we all are, but that the uniqueness is not appreciated by all. It was in Stellenbosch that I grasped a part of my identity, that hey I’m a young black, Xhosa female, but it was also here that I found part of my identity to be challenging. “What does it mean to be black in the context of where I am?” “Why am I sometimes treated differently from my white counterparts?” “Does coming from a previously underprivileged environment automatically mean I am incompetent as some people seem to think?” “Is my voice loud enough or does my skin determine the attention I will get?”
Amidst all these questions my resolve to be the best kept me going for the most part. Sure, I did not go to any private or model C school, I did not own a car or expensive clothes, but deep down I knew that those were all just superficial things. I was also not ignorant of the fact that they are not representative of everyone in Stellenbosch and so did not define me. So without fail, academically I continued to pursue the more and bigger picture in my head. I am humbled to say that I performed very well academically to the point of being a Golden Key Honours recipient and being on the Dean’s List for a number of my modules.
So far, I would hope that it is clear how academically orientated my life was, but that’s not all I am about. On the contrary from primary school, I learnt to explore my creative side through writing poetry or stories but rarely performed them publicly. I also enjoyed drama, but because people already had this idea that I was a “serious-smart” child, I mainly kept my creativity to myself, after all, I had an image to uphold. This continued to high school and consequently university. However, I was doing pretty okay and so it did not really matter, until 2019. My year started with a bang, an extraordinary experiencing touring Germany, but that also left a painful marker on my life, which I cannot get into details about at the moment.
This is an image I took in Munich Germany in January 2019. Photo cred: Nalin Singh
The journey of recovery from that incident took a toll on my mentality. For the first time I stopped trying to see everything as good even when it’s not, I forced myself to be honest with myself. As if I did not have enough going on already I encountered parts of my degree that I just did not enjoy and struggled with grasping although it seemed everyone around me was having a jolly time with them. For a change, my identity which was strongly based on being an A-student was tested and I found myself going back to Mam Khoza’s question. “Apart from academics what will you do with your life?” It was also in 2019 that I truly experienced academic racial discrimination in my degree, which was my tipping point, adding to all I was going through.
After this, the battle for my mind became more fierce. My therapist called it a fight to overcome internal oppression. More often than not I wondered whether this was it. “No, there must be more. Your life will not end like this. You are all that and more.” The fighter in me would respond. So I made a frightening yet exciting decision to embark on a journey of searching, which meant cutting a lot of ties. I bid farewell to everything contributing to my struggle.
So have you found it now? Is there really more out there? You might want to ask, but I, unfortunately, cannot give you answers now. The journey still continues and daily I am learning to allow myself to BE more than to DO. The greatest battle is in my mind but I am a victor. So I walk with my head held high.
I am Nomvo Faith Kasolo, but you can also call me Vee. Thank you for reading my story…
