Man-to-Man with Dr. Musa Manzi (Part 3)

We are concluding the 3-Part interview with Dr. Musa Manzi who has been extremely generous, opening up to us and in the process, impacting so many lives - mine, certainly. In case you missed them, here are Part 1 and Part 2.

I know you have to go now Musa – but we must talk about you being one of Mail & Guardian’s 200 Young South Africans for 2014. Is that a big title for you? Having gone through all this, was that an affirmation of whatever God had done for you?

To tell you the truth, to me it didn’t mean much.

Really?

Yeah. It only meant a lot when people would talk about it. It’s probably the same as other achievements – it means a lot to me only when it changes someone else’ life. I mean, just like being the first black Geophysicist, PhD, in South Africa - it didn’t mean a lot when I was graduating. But when people started saying things like “I look up to you, you are my role model”, that’s when I was like, “Oh, so this is important”. I think the way I’ve always wanted to live my life is – if it doesn’t have an impact on someone else’ life, it’s not worth it. It means nothing to me.

There are many other people that I might never meet but who might be challenged by this and they might have changed the way they live because of what we did, or because of what I did. So that’s when it means a lot to me that "wow" - so if it can change someone else’ life, then it’s worth sharing. And maybe then can they model their lives after it.

So it probably meant a lot within that context.

I hear you. Moving on to the next thing, which I can’t leave out. Being a parent or a guardian to your nieces, how has that impacted on your romantic relationships, if ever you were in any, after the loss of your sister and mother? Has that being a factor in terms of who you get in a relationship with?

For me, being like a father and mother to my nieces, you know, I think it defined my relationship life in terms of who I get in a relationship with and what kind of a woman I’d love to be romantically involved with.

One of the things I’ve realized about relationships is (and probably your dad will tell you this as well about marrying your step-mom) it‘s not just about love. You need a woman who will love your kids as well. So basically, you’ve got a base – no matter how much you love me, you need love my nieces. So it’s becoming very difficult to you as a person and the person you love. I mean you meet someone who’s never had kids and they have this dream about marriage, having their first kid. Now you get involved with a man who already has 5 kids, or 2 kids as in my case.

The men I know, who have raised their kids on their own, they are very much attached to them. They can lose the whole world, but they hold on to their kids because of the struggles they’ve gone through.

For me, if you asked me what my biggest achievement is – for me, it is raising my kids. That’s the only thing that stands out. I mean, against everything we’ve gone through, and seeing them as older ladies now – to me, that’s the biggest achievement. And so I’m attached to them emotionally, you know. Even in instances where they are wrong, it’s something you don’t want to hear from another person.

I was in a relationship that unfortunately didn’t work out. Being a single parent defines you and the relationships you have. No doubt about that.

But having raised my nieces, you learn to develop a soft spot for your woman because you learn of the different emotions that women go through. I have learned through my nieces that the best thing you can ever do for them is to love them, continuously. I can’t say much about males. So I’ve learned that and with the relationships I’ve been through, that something that women need is for you to love them, and they respond. If you don’t love your woman, there is no way she will respect you.

So I’ve seen that with my nieces – that no matter what I do, if they know and have been told that they are important, that I love them….. I mean I had a chat with my niece about 3 days ago, and she said “it took me about 10 years to believe that you love me, though I stayed with you. Because of what happened in my life, I never believed love existed, I never believed that God existed. But with time, and with you telling me every single day how much you love me – it’s only now that I realized that it’s possible to love”.

And that is why she started writing these letters expressing love because she never believed that it existed, because she was like “if love exists, why did all these things happen to me? If God exists, why did he allow for all these things to happen? But through your life and everything that you do, you just involve me. It took 10 years, but I’m glad I’ve come to a point where I know that if there’s anyone who loves me – it’s you! ”

So this has taught me a lot on how to love a woman, because I’m raising 2 young women. When you shout at them, they switch off. But when you speak to them in a nice, caring, polite way, they will respond positively.

And I treat them differently from each other. I’ve learned their different love languages. The other one, no matter what you do for her, even if it means buying her gifts, she doesn’t care. Because, you HAVE TO sit down with her and apologize verbally. Whereas the other one, if I walked out, buy her flowers or a dress, she’s like “oh okay, you’re forgiven.” You know, it’s their different love languages.

I’m thinking, you and I were classmates in first year. And later on we were members of the same Christian organization on campus. Yet you know don’t know that a person is going through so much, like when you speak of how your mother would deposit just R50, which is all that she could afford. It’s only when you interact privately with a person that you get to see what they go through. Even for me as a man, one who’s conscious about the type of male-to-male relationships we should have in building each other up, I feel it’s important that we harness these relationships.

I fully agree. It has so much impact. I always talk to my friends about this. It's very rare that you would spend time with your male friends and you speak about real issues. Most times we talk about girls and cars. We don’t really tackle real issues. That’s the problem we have in South Africa. Just think about how things would be if we spoke about these issues regularly.

I’ve also noticed how when you ask a male friend, “how are you doing, like really, how are you doing?” You find that people start to open up and tell you like, “actually, things are not going so great” and they open up and open their hearts, and you realize that there’s a lot going on there. But you HAD to ask, and ask deeply, like, “what do you do? Where do you stay? Where’s your mother?”

And you find this with people who have been friends for years, but they don’t know each other. The next thing is you get a call saying your friend has committed suicide. As you try to unravel the story, you then realize that “I didn’t know all these things”.

So you’re right – think there’s a gap that needs to be closed.

I had an interview with a journalist, and we ended up talking. And she asked me about my dream. Normally when I get asked what my dream is, most people get shocked because as a scientist or a researcher they expect you to talk about your dream being doing something scientific, writing this book, building this big laboratory – you know such things.

She was shocked, when I told her about my dream for what I want to do for the community….

Which is.....? Now I’m curious

No, I was talking to her about the orphanage that I opened up in Durban. You know, it was my dream for many years. You know, I love young people and having to see them struggle is hard you know. So I started this project and the way God has just provided for it, to me that’s a dream coming true because I’ve always dreamt about this.   

When I drive around and seeing kids on the streets that never had an opportunity, I’m like “I could have been one of them but someone decided to love me. Someone took me in and cared for me. Therefore I can do the same”. You can’t change the world, but you can change one soul, and virtually impact the whole world.

And you can’t always defer things to when you have enough money. I could have done that and said let me first be a Geophysicist and then go back to Durban to take care of the girls. It might have been too late. They would probably not have ended up where they are right now. They would probably have been impregnated young.

For them to be safe, I had to take a step of faith and say even if I’m still a student, I will stay with them and in the process, I knew that God would provide. And He did provide because I was doing the right thing. I don’t see myself doing the right thing and God not being there for me. It would be against His Word.

In the white community, they have the privilege that they haven’t gone through the things we have gone through. For them it’s a case of “when I finish my degree, I’m going to get married” and therefore they are able to father their own children. With us, when you finish your degree, you already have people you need to look after. You need to look after this person and support that one...

Earlier on you said you and your nieces spent nights sleeping in the library because you didn't have shelter...?

Yeah. In my honours year we didn’t have a place to stay. My nieces and I, we stayed in this building for the whole year. I was getting around R3000/R4000 from Wits at the time, and I decided to use that money for food and sleep wherever we could.

During my Masters year, we still didn’t have a place to stay. Initially, I was staying at res but I got kicked out because you aren’t allowed to stay with kids.

So we moved into my office – I had an office when I was doing my Masters. And no-one knew about it. I mean, my nieces were going to school in the morning at 6 and they would come back here. You would only notice at 11 late at night that these kids are still here.

The people who were close were the cleaners – they knew that these kids are staying here. And they really loved and respected me because they had their own daughters who had left their kids with them, and they had to work hard to support these kids. Yet here was a man who is working towards his Masters, living in university buildings with his nieces – kids who aren’t even biologically his. To them, this was amazing. I would interact with them and one told me that her daughter did the same thing my sister did with my mom, which was to leave the kids at home and disappear.

Whilst living here in my office, when my nieces would use the bathroom and not clean up, the cleaners would always tell me about it and would also cover up for us. When we had no food, they would provide. When I had some, I would share with them. You know, we were kind of a family. And now they look at me being a lecturer in the same environment – that has done a lot for them mentally. 

For me I always say that the process you go through is more important than reaching your goal because even if you don’t reach your goal, the process shapes you to be a man so that even if you don’t get what you wanted, you would have made good decisions.

It’s just like saying “I want to get a PhD”. If you get to that stage without having being moulded by the process – it’s a problem.

I am happy about one thing, and that’s what I concentrated on was the now, the present, because that was the only thing I was sure of. I was not sure of what would happen in 10 years, so I didn’t pay attention to that. I paid attention to being present with my nieces and I would say “I want to be a good father today”. When I wake up in the morning I always tell my niece, I want to be a good father today, I want to love you today because I am not sure of tomorrow. When she calls and says “Malume, can you come home now?” I always say “yes I am going to come home now and take you to the hospital now because I don’t have tomorrow.” 

She asks me “where does this (mentality) come from?” And I tell her, that I wanted to finish my degree so that I could help my mother out, but she died that year. That opportunity never came. I wanted to build a house for her, I wanted to provide for her financially, I wanted to get her medical aid, but did it come? It was always tomorrow, tomorrow. You know, I could have done quite lot as a student. Like seeing her more often. Bringing her flowers telling her how much I loved her. I didn’t do that because I wanted to finish my degree first.

I learned the hard way but I can’t repeat the same mistake. So I tell my niece that “when I see you in the morning, it’s a blessing. So I have to give you a hug and a kiss and tell you I love you. You go to school knowing that you are loved and are supported". I can’t say “tomorrow”. If she’s sick, I drop everything. If I do that now, I’m going to develop a woman who’s going to love her kids the way I’ve loved her. We are sure of only today and not tomorrow.

As you fetched me from the entrance of this building and we approached your office door and I saw your name written there – “Dr. Musa Manzi”, a question rushed through my mind and I held back from asking. We used to attend lectures in this very building, did you ever think one day a door upstairs would bear your name?

You know, I do think about it a lot and I NEVER, EVER imagined. You know, when they talk about “The Impossible Dream”…. The funny thing is that this very lab we are sitting in, this is where I used to sleep during my Honours year. My nieces and I would spend nights here. But today, this is my lab. 4-6 years ago, this is where I used to sleep.

So when I finally had money and was working for the university, I took this room and said this would be my lab! At the time when I did that, I didn’t realize that this was the same place I used to sleep in. It was only after a while when they were installing software in the computers here and I was teaching students that it hit me that “wow, this is the place I used to sleep in”. And thinking about it, I was a bit emotional.

I was talking to a friend yesterday and she was asking if I would ever leave Wits, and I said yes, one day eventually I will leave Wits. But for now, I know that this is the one place God has chosen for me. When I wake up in the morning, I have no doubt that I have to be at Wits. For what reasons? I don’t know. When Wits offered me a job, I had many, many offers. But it was never difficult to take up Wits’ offer. It was the least paying job on the list, among overseas universities. I was going through with interviews at the time and Wits had not even made an offer, but I knew that I was going to go with Wits anyway. I went to France, to the US, to Cape Town – they all offered me positions, and at the last minute, I got the Wits offer.

The same university where I was chased out of res, and had no place to go to, is the same place where I am now a lecturer. The same place where I now sit down and have coffee with the Vice-Chancellor.

Musa, thank you so much for spending the time with me. We can spend the whole day talking about these things. Thank you for who you are, and for for being open. I think I speak on behalf of a lot of people that I thank you for being an example. You didn’t take in your nieces with a mind that you were doing it for glory. You just stepped in and became a father to them.

 Thanks for coming over to chat, you know and thank you for what you are doing.

I just hope that God opens up an opportunity that we can have a gathering of men, you know. To just sit and talk about these things.

I would love that.

(You can watch Musa's feature on Against All Odds with Mpho Lakaje here).

Man-to-Man with Dr. Musa Manzi (Part 2)

This is the second part of the interview I did with Dr. Musa Manzi. I sat with him in early July in his laboratory at Wits University where he is a lecturer. Musa is a geophysicist as well as a guardian to his 2 nieces, the daughters of his late sister. You can catch up on Part 1 of this interview here.

Musa, can we move on to 2004 when you lost both your mom and sister in a very short space of time and the decision to become your nieces’ guardian? Can you take us through that? Was that an easy decision to make? Is it just something you simply had to do or did you really have to think hard about the fact that you were now going to be a guardian or a parent?

It was a very complex situation. I don’t know why I did some of the things I did then, even though they turned out really well. It was a win-win situation.

So that year I used to go home regularly because my mom was sick. Both my brother and sister weren’t home, but the girls, my sister’s daughters, were staying with my mom. Things were tough. But I had Christian friends who would go check on my mom. They even went as far as trying to build her a house because I couldn’t afford to. They were trying to give her some shelter.

When I would go down to Durban, it was really emotional. That year was just painful. A lot was going on and when you think that your mother is going to die at some stage, you don’t want to accept that. Especially when your mom has worked so hard. You don’t want to lose that person because you have that hope that they will see you achieve good things in life. You don’t want them to only experience the pain. You want them to be part of your success too.

You know, my mother never had a good life. She always fought for us to have a decent living. Even when she was sick, she would still go to work earning that R300 to support us. I remember when I was still at Wits, she would even deposit R50. And I would withdraw R20 from the bank and buy bread. At that time I was approaching my third year and I was thinking that after finishing my degree, everything is going to be fine.

So this particular Friday morning, I woke up and didn’t feel like doing anything. So I took a taxi to Durban. When I got home, my mother was sick. So I forced her to go to the hospital. I called an ambulance late at night, at around 9 or 10. You know how old people are – they always say they want to die at home. It was very emotional.

So I took her to the hospital and we got to the government hospital and it was full. There were no beds available, so they couldn’t admit her. We had to wait till morning, sitting on a bench like this because we didn’t have transport to go back home.

That night, changed my mind-set about life. I remember it as though it happened this morning because I was holding her the whole night. She couldn’t sit upright, and she also couldn’t sit still. I had to hold her. And the only money I had in my pocket was R10, so I asked one of the nurses to buy chips and that was the only thing I could afford to feed my mother.

At the same time, one thing I learned was men can do so much if they put their hearts to it, particularly things that are considered to be “women’s jobs”. I sat there carrying my mother like that and seeing all the nurses not helping at all. Not even offering to do anything for me. That was the turning point for me on why people do things if they don’t want to help people. It’s all about money, but not about helping people.

They were just sitting there having coffee and laughing while my mother was crying – the whole night. You would think it should be a default response for them, as females, to offer help to a man struggling with his mother. But not a single one of them offered help. Things like, “oh, can I take her to the bathroom?”, no. I did those things myself. I took her to the bathroom.

You know, it was very emotional. My mother was complaining the whole night. She was saying to me “I didn’t want to be taken to the hospital in the first place”. And I had forced her. She said to me that she knew how bad these hospitals are and she just wanted to die at home.

In the morning, which was a Saturday, the doctor came at 9. My mother now had to go for x-rays. At this point, we are both exhausted. We had spent the whole night sitting on a bench. With no blanket. She had been sitting on my lap. So I was also tired.

Before the x-rays, she had to go for a shower. They showed me where the shower was. And I showered her. She was now sitting on a wheelchair. And I bathed her. To me, that was…….. . That day I knew my mom’s nakedness because I had to bathe her. I mean, she had given birth to me, but now roles have changed, I'm now the parent and she’s the child. And to me that was very emotional, at the same time very painful. But I knew it was worth it because as a man, a young man, I was thinking – my mother has done a lot for me, so I know I can do this! I know it’s the right thing to do because she’s my parent.

Then a nurse knocked on the door and said “are you done?”. Again, that said a lot to me. No-one willingly helped, not even to bathe my mother. Then she went for X-rays. So when she was doing the x-rays, the doctor said I could wait outside. The idea was that she was going to have x-rays done and we would go home thereafter as there was no bed available for her.

That was again very painful that I would have to leave her at home as I needed to come back to Wits. But by God’s grace one of the nurses came and said “are you Musa Manzi?” She then said to me that she had good news for me – someone had just been discharged meaning my mother could now be admitted.

So I said to the nurse, I’d like to see where she would be placed because if it’s not a good place, I prefer taking her back home. So I walked into the ward just looking around and checking. I was very exhausted because I had not slept. And I had been holding my mother all night and she had been complaining about not wanting to come to the hospital in the first place. It was a bit heavy for me.

So I walked in there and as I was looking around the ward and checking where the nurse was preparing what would be my mother’s bed, someone called out my name. And they also said, “my brother!” That turned out to be my sister! In the same ward!! Remember, my sister had disappeared and we didn’t know where she was.

So when I walked in and she saw me, my sister had assumed that I had come from Joburg to see her in hospital. She didn’t know that our mother was sick as she had disappeared from home for a while now. To her surprise, I had brought my mother to the hospital. Coincidentally, the bed that was being prepared for my mother was right next to the one my sister was lying on.

My mother also didn’t know that my sister was in hospital because she had disappeared and left the kids. And the night before my mother had been complaining, the whole night, about how my sister had just dropped the kids and disappeared. Little did she know that the following morning they were going to meet in the ward. Not only that, but also that they were going to sleep right next to each other.

So that was a bit…. you know….. I took a pause because my sister asked me – how did you know I was sick. And I was like, I didn’t know you were sick. The nurse is now a bit shocked. She was like, “are you guys related?” And I said to her, this is my sister. And she says, “and the one outside?” I tell her that that’s our mother. I then asked the nurse if they knew this because they were now placing my sister and mother next to each other. And she said, “we didn’t even notice that they had similar surnames. This is the only bed that opened up and that’s why we are placing your mother here”.

So I told my sister that I would be bringing our mother in. My sister was still in shock. And the way she had left home wasn’t good – having left my mother with the 2 kids. So my mom was still upset with my sister. So I walked out to my mother and told her, “We have a surprise here. So you should be strong, don’t fight. We didn’t want you to have a heart-attack”. I briefed her and then took her into the ward.

Before I left for Wits, I spoke to one of the nurses and asked that she please makes sure that they are fine. It was almost exams time. I had to go back to Wits. One of the nurses gave me money, (I think it was a R100) to travel back to Johannesburg and she said to me that she would take care of them. I took a City-to-City bus from Durban to Joburg. I think she kind of liked me because we had spoken a bit. She was one of the nurses that had come in in the morning. So she was nice and very helpful.

So she took my Wits res numbers and told me to concentrate on my exams and that she would call me if anything happened. The following Friday I got a call from her that they had been discharged from the hospital.

Oh okay so you left them on the Saturday morning and came back to Wits?

Yes, so on the next Friday morning that’s when I got a call from the same nurse that they had both been discharged. I didn’t even bother attending lectures that day. I took a taxi home and I got there at around 6 in the evening. I checked on them on how they were doing. My sister was tired. I chatted with her a bit. My mother was still in pain.

I knew I was going to spend the weekend there, so I took a walk checking out my friends and stuff. So when I walked back about 45 minutes later, there were a lot of people at my place - my aunts and other relatives. I didn’t think anything had happened. As I walked in my aunt came to me and she says “okay Musa, as soon as you walked out, your sister passed on”.

I started crying and she was like “you mustn’t cry, you must be very strong, your mother is in pain” because they had been sleeping on the same bed. It was a small house. That was the only bed we had. It was a big bed though, although it was hand-made.

Just after my sister died, they placed her body on the floor. I went in to check on how my mom was doing. Of course she was still in pain, and crying. So there was a disagreement at home about the burial of my sister, because I had proposed that we bury her on Saturday, the following day.

Financially it was going to be better. They all didn’t agree with me because of traditional customs – we had to wait a week and notify other family members. I didn’t want to go through that because it had a lot of financial implications – paying the mortuary for the whole week. And also remember, my mother is still in pain, so we’re still going to spend more money anyway, taking her to hospital and things like that. So I was trying to minimize costs, I didn’t have money anyway. But I didn’t win that battle. She was taken to the mortuary. I think one of the family members volunteered to pay.

I remember the police van came and took her to the mortuary. I had an exam that I had to write on the Monday. I had to come back to Wits as I couldn’t afford to miss that exam. So Saturday morning, I got onto a bus - I don’t remember who gave me the money.

I woke up on Sunday morning, very exhausted, sat on my desk trying to study and all that. Then the phone at res rang. It was my brother. My mother had passed away that morning. 

So that was bad.

I didn’t get to write (the exam) on Monday. That’s where things got bad. Fortunately my cousin Nqobile was around. We were always together everywhere we went. We were emotionally attached because we had gone through so much together.

I remember a couple of guys from His People campus ministry came and gave me money. And they even went down to Durban with me. They dropped me at home and then came back as they also had to prepare for their own exams. So I stayed home the whole week preparing for the funeral.

The funeral came and a month later, I fell ill and was hospitalized. (I think it was the stress).

When I was in hospital, I got a few calls that day of people asking me how I was doing. It was strange because I hardly got such calls. Then I got another call. This time it was my pastor, from home. He prayed for me over the phone, saying that the devil was attacking my family. At that point, he had not heard anything. After that prayer, I felt some peace.

Then that’s when my one cousin who was very close to my heart called and said to me “your brother has been shot this morning at 4 o’clock at Durban Station. So we need to organize for you to come home. But don’t take a bus, we will come fetch you”. 

He organized with his friends and they came and fetched me.

(Part 3 of the interview is next).

Man-to-Man with Dr. Musa Manzi (Part 1)

I first met Dr. Musa Manzi back in 2002 when we were both first year BSc. (Quantity Surveying) students at Wits. This is before he decided to pursue a degree in Geology the following year, 2003.

Today, Musa is the first black Geophysicist, PhD, in South Africa. He is also a lecturer at Wits, a university where he first arrived 13 years ago as a teenager from the rural village of Ndwendwe in KwaZulu-Natal. When he first got to Wits, little did he know that in just over a decade, he would be donning that coveted red academic regalia and also regularly forming part of academic processions during official graduation ceremonies at the venerable Wits Great Hall. 

In 2014, Dr. Manzi was named as one of Mail & Guardian’s 200 Young South Africans.   

But that’s not all that makes Musa a special man. Behind all this success is a story of pain, rejection, grief and heartache. But it is also a life layered with lots of sacrifice, perseverance and triumph. 

In this 3-Part series, we get up-close and personal with this great South African black man.

On a very cold and misty winter morning in early July, I drove to Wits University and met Dr. Manzi and we sat down in his warm and cozy laboratory at the university's East Campus. (Coincidentally, Musa's lab is in the same building where we used to attend lecturers in our first year. What an amazing turn of events.)

Musa, can you tell us about your age and your upbringing?

I was born and bred in KwaZulu-Natal in a rural village called Ndwendwe, 32 years ago. Then of course I was raised by a single mother – my dad passed away when I was 2. I basically grew up not knowing my dad because he had committed suicide. I didn’t know how he died until I was about 14 when I had a chat with my mom. I asked her how my father died, and for the first time she opened up to me about it. My mom and I were very close because I was the last-born in my family.

At the time of his death, my dad was working for a construction company in Richards Bay. My parents had had a fight - it was on the 14^th of September 1984 (I was two years old). The main reason for the fight was that my dad had always thought I wasn’t his child, for some weird reasons. I think it comes from the fact that most of the times he was away at work whereas my mom would be at home with my two siblings.

I am told that my dad tried to kill me when he got back home. My mom tried to hide me because my dad was convinced that I wasn’t his child. (My mother was very emotional when she told me this story).

So my father disappeared at around 9 or 10 that night after that big fight. The families were now involved. The following day they got a call that he had committed suicide. So he had jumped off from the 14^th floor of the building of the company that he was working for. So that’s how he passed away.

My mother had never before told me this even though everyone else knew. She thought that by telling me this, I would be affected by the fact that I wasn’t wanted in the family. Of course when she told me this I was already a Christian; so the way I handled it was fine because I knew that God had a bigger plan for my life.

But that’s a young age (14) to be able comprehend that sort of information – that your father didn’t necessarily want you. And also that him not wanting you led to his death. Even as a Christian. Wasn’t that a bit too heavy?

Ja it was – I mean it wasn’t just my father who didn’t want me. My father’s side of the family also didn’t want me. They didn’t really like me because they didn’t believe that I was part of the family. This led to a huge disconnection between my dad’s family and my mom’s family. Whenever there was a family gathering, my mom would ask me not to come with because she was trying to protect me. So I would be left behind at home with an aunt. I would keep myself busy with soccer and other things.

I mean even at school, my cousins from my dad’s side, we wouldn’t click that well, after having been erased from the family. So after my dad died, we never (even now) spoke to my dad’s side of the family. We don’t know who is still alive and so forth. There was a complete disconnection. It was a complete disaster after the funeral.

So you’re right. But I had just given my life to Christ and I was so into God, you know. And God just carried me through during that phase.

So would you say that your relationship with God at that time was very timely in that just before you learned about why your dad died, you accepted Christ?

Yes, because if it had happened before I gave my life to Christ, it would have been a different story. It would have probably created a monster in me. I mean, that’s how my brother was. He was a fighter. He was always fighting with them because he believed in revenge. He would fight for me. There were always fights. My giving my life to Christ at that time was very critical. 

I would sometimes calm my mom down saying to her that even if I’m not part of the family, I’m part of God’s kingdom. And that also, later on, led my mom to Christ.

I mean there were a lot of things that happened.

Really?

Yeah. That’s why my mom would say I should never visit (my father’s family) whenever there would be traditional gatherings. My mother would never allow me to go. And she would never allow me to eat whatever they would give me. She didn’t trust anyone when it came to me. My brother and sister were fine. But not me!

As a result of this I didn’t spend a lot of time at home. I was always with other Christian families and that’s where I felt loved and supported. At home, I never felt safe and never felt loved. So some Chrisitian families would ask me to go stay with them for a week, 2 weeks and so on. So that was my life growing up.

My mother didn’t mind me doing that because she had seen a huge change in me when I was staying with the Christians. Because she was a domestic worker, I would see her on weekends as she would come home on Saturdays.

I think growing up that was the most difficult. And of course being raised by a single mother earning about R250 a month and supporting 3 kids. My sister got pregnant and had 2 kids. So that was very difficult because the family grew. So she struggled quite a lot as my sister had left the kids at home.

Not having been accepted by your father, that must have done some damage to your self-esteem, do you think? Or not?

I think if I wasn’t too close to my mom, it would have had a major impact. So the whole pain was substituted by the love of my mother. She loved me a lot, and I was very close to her even though she couldn’t support us financially. She was there for me, emotionally. I was her favourite in the family because she knew I wasn’t wanted. My siblings were loved and supported by my father’s family. They would even be given money. But not me.

So it created that anger against my family, which I can say only got resolved later on in life. After having gotten my degree and when I looked back I thought, it’s probably not worth it. But for years, it had created that anger in me against my father’s family. It came to a point where even when I would get a message that someone from that part of the family had died – I just didn’t care. Because they were not part of my family. So why would I bother?

But growing up, sometimes it would hit you, when you see young guys your age talking about their dads. I remember when I was staying at res, seeing someone being picked up by their dad. You know, I never had that experience.

And also, the fact that your father didn’t want you. And also thinking about the possibility that what if my dad was right that I wasn’t his? Because as a child, you don’t really know the details. So I had to deal with multiple things at the same time: What if my dad was right? And if he wasn’t right, why didn’t he want me yet he wanted the other kids?    

That is why growing up as a child, I was never really close to male figures per se, till probably now. You know, I grew up with that thing that I trust females more than men. The males from my dad’s side, because they knew the situation, they could have at least comforted me. Instead, everyone just backed off.

I can say that this changed my life – my entire perspective about men. I don’t trust them. That is why most of the times when I do things, I don’t invest more in men. I’ve got that thing that I can’t really trust them - like, I don’t know what they’re going to do tomorrow.

And also growing up in an environment where men, even my brother, would just impregnate women and not father the kids, you know, it was just a male thing. I grew up with that. I was erased from the family and these men are also doing the same.

Coincidentally, I have had to raise 2 nieces, and that made it easier because I had a connection with women because of my mother. And also, if you trace back, when I would be taken in by a family – it would be women who would take me into those families, not males. I was never actually helped by a male in my life – ever!  

So even now, you don’t have male figures in your life? This was one of the questions I was going to ask you.

It’s only now through church, and even then, it’s not as easy as it is with women, mentoring me and all kinds of stuff. Like with the white family I stayed with, I’m very tight with the mother, but not with the father. And it’s not because of him, I mean, he loves me so much. It’s simply because growing up as a child, I didn’t know how to relate with men. I feel like maybe they’re just pretending, and they don’t really mean it. So because my mother loved me, and I know the love of a mother, I can trust females, but not males. But it’s changing.

But this has also brought me closer to younger males. People who know me will tell you that I care for male kids because I don’t want them to experience what I experienced.

  

So you find it easier to mentor younger men, but it’s a struggle to relate with older men in terms of a father-son relationship?

I really can’t. If I had to tell you the honest truth – I don’t have close male friends. I don’t have close male friendships like I would with females; as a result, it’s been quite a struggle because people assume I am dating my female friends until they discover that actually Musa is not in a relationship. Of course, this has had some disadvantages because when you’re being nice to a lady, if they don’t know you, they think you’re interested, until they get close to know you and realize that that’s just how you are. It just comes from having been close to my mom and later on been taken in by a white female mother-figure. I have never had that connection with a man.

And for some weird reason, most of the kids I connect with, they don’t have fathers. Even when I come back from overseas, I bring back gifts for these young kids - most of them don’t have fathers. And again, it raises this question in me that “where are the fathers because they’re probably still alive”. Same thing with having to stay with my nieces, knowing that the father of one of them is still around somewhere on this planet. I think out to myself that would I even go to bed not knowing where my kids are?

So that helps me, and leads me to playing that father role even though I never had that experience myself.

One thing that came up to me as you were talking about your father’s rejection of you, and how your mother loved you – I asked myself, who named you “Musa”?

Actually that’s a very interesting question. Remember I’ve got 3 names: Musa, Siphiwe and Doctor. Actually, there was a time where I wanted to take Siphiwe out of my ID book. I was named Siphiwe by my dad. I can tell you now, when someone calls me by that name, Siphiwe, something happens in me – I’m like, please don’t call me by that name. To this day!

I really don’t like it. And it’s really not like I haven’t forgiven my dad. I just don’t like the name you know. Sometimes one of my students would call me by that name, and sometimes I don’t respond because it’s not my name. (giggles)

That‘s when I realized that this thing has had so much impact on my life to a point where I wanted to remove that name from my ID. I wanted to only keep “Musa” and “Doctor” because these 2 names were given by my mother.

I don’t use that name (Siphiwe). Even in my (academic) publications, I normally just put “Musa” and “Doctor”. So I try to eliminate that name (Siphiwe) as much as possible. That’s how much it destroyed me, that I wanted nothing to do with my dad and his family.

Do you feel you want to erase that aspect of your life?

Ja – for me it is something that never existed. It’s not a part of me, when it comes to male figures in my life.

As a result, I find it very hard, say for example, you, you seem to be close to your dad – to me it’s very hard imagining that. I remember when we were at CAF (Christian Action Fellowship at Wits) I would find it hard hearing about males being close to their fathers. I could understand “a man and a mother” but I don’t understand this thing of being close to your dad. I’m like how do you relate, how do you talk? As a result, I really admire men like that – I’m like wow! But still, my mind cannot comprehend how it is possible for men to just relate because I never had that, you know.

And my white dad knows that when it comes to issues, he would say “your mom will talk to you” because his experience of me is that I don’t open up to him as much as I open up to the white mother. I talk to him about business and when I have to make financial decisions because he’s a chartered accountant, so that’s when I’d talk to him. But when it comes to other things…… - like he would never ask “what happened to your girlfriend” and things like that, he would never ask because he knows he’s not going to get an answer. But the mother would ask – “what happened to so and so, are you fine?”. So we talk about life. As for my (white) dad, he would have to hear about these from my mom.

But he knows I love him so much, and I know he loves me but there’s no relationship where we talk about life. The same thing happens with my pastor. Lovely guy, but I don’t talk to him about things. I talk to his wife. I had a counselling session with him at some point when I had just gone through something. The following day he came back to me and said “I think my wife would be a better person for you to talk to". And now she’s more of a mentor to me. She calls me, we have meetings and I can open up, something I couldn’t do with her husband. I mean, he’s a lovely man, and he mentors almost every man at church but he struggled with me. He felt I wasn’t opening up. And he was right. But when he brought his wife, she was just flowing because I could see the love in her eyes. You know, women have got that thing of showing how much they love you. I think it comes from me spending a lot of time with my mom, so I could see the love in her eyes and I could relate with her. And I could also relate with my white mom this side.

Does the name Musa have a deep meaning to you? Or is it just a name that you have an emotional attachment to because it was a name that your mom gave you?

For me, both the names my mom gave me were prophetic, somehow. She was prophesying over my life. I didn’t understand why I was named the Musa, grace or mercy, until I gave my life to Christ, you know and all the dots connected, that everything I have is through His mercy and grace, which I don’t deserve. And she also named me Doctor because she wanted me to become a doctor, which I have also become. Everything somehow connected although she wasn’t very spiritual at the time, she sort of envisioned it and later on it came to pass. And that’s why I’m attached to these names, but not Siphiwe. I mean, Siphiwe is a beautiful name – gift – but why would you reject a gift? A gift is a special thing which you should take care of, yet you reject it. Even if I wasn’t his child, a gift is a gift which you take care of.

Let’s just go back to this issue of fatherlessness. You spoke earlier about how the fathers of your nieces are not present, although they are alive somewhere. You’ve spoken about how your brother fathered children but he was not present in his children’s lives, and that is sort of a repetition of whatever your father did to you. How do we break this cycle, particularly in the South African context where we see this happening over and over again?

The father of one of my nieces passed away 2 years ago. The older niece met her father for the first time last year when she was in Durban. It wasn’t even arranged, it was by coincidence. My brother passed away just weeks after my mom and sister passed away.

I only know of your mom and sister. I didn’t know that your brother also passed on.

Yeah, my brother also passed on. He was shot. That was roughly a month after my mother and sister passed on. Of course, then he already had children.

It was painful because I only heard of my brother’s children on the day of his funeral. So if you think about that, he had known about his two children but we never knew about them until his funeral when the mothers presented the kids to me at his funeral.  It was a very tough thing because she didn’t have money and on the other hand I had two nieces to look after. I mean I didn’t reject the boys but when I think about it I probably would have had 4 kids to look after had she decided to leave them at home. But she took them away and said she would see how to take care of them. But I still support them financially every month. They’re grown up now and they call when they need things. Like my niece went down to Durban and she took gifts for them. That’s how it is.

Now getting back to your question. I think it’s all about what we are doing, what your dad is doing, what I am doing. It’s very interesting. Yesterday was a very emotional day for me. I was passing by a postgraduate pub called “The PIG” here on campus. Then this guy, he’s wearing a suit, he comes to me and says “I saw your story while I was in Zimbabwe on eNCA on Against All Odds and when I was watching the story I was with my mother and my 4 nephews”. He had just graduated yesterday so he was celebrating, holding a bottle of beer in his hand.

He said that what touched me the most was after all I had gone through and all that had happened, I took it upon myself to raise my sister children. “I never thought a man could do that because my father left me when I was young. I’m left with my mother and 4 nephews because my sister passed as well. After your story was shown, my mother turned to me and asked me what the lesson was about your story – at that time I was in tears. I said to my mother that now that I’m getting my degree, I want to start taking care of my nephews because you’ve been working so hard”.

Because he had just graduated, he wanted to take pictures with me, so we walked to the Great Hall and he introduced me to his nephews, 4 of them, and said he had brought these boys to Johannesburg so that he could look after them. He said he realized that he knew me before the story was shown on tv. "I had met you randomly at the Library Lawns and you’d invited us for drinks and food at the Geosciences building after a function. You were very nice to us and when I watched the story I remembered that I knew you from then, and I connected the dots that this guy is generally just nice", he said to. And that had so much impact on me.

So I also met the mother and we took pictures. So when I got home, I thought, you just never know. I never thought outside of South Africa, my story would reach someone. In Zimbabwe, someone just decided to take a decision to take in his nephews simply because he saw one person doing it.

I think that sort of answers your question on how do we change the nation. I mean if it’s never been done before, and one person does it, the second person would also do it, third person and so on. There are so many people who have done it but the story is not told. For example, your father, no-one knows the story about him. But we should share these stories through different platforms. That is why I would post something on Facebook even though it is not Christian-based because you want to connect with everyone. You want to talk about everything, the characteristics a man should have, the values of life, not only what Christ did for you.

That guy I met yesterday, holding his beer, he told his friends that “I don’t only respect this man – I adore him”.

So to me I was like, just do the right thing and someone will get to know or read about it. So the only way to break the cycle is to do the right thing and to tell the story.

It starts with one person doesn’t it?

It starts with one person!!! 

(On the next post, we continue with the interview, going into the trauma of death in the family, and fatherhood).

In Celebration of Men

(Source:www.thyblackman.com)

Let me just simply apologise to our readers for not posting anything on a regular basis. I hope his will be something of the past. Besides, I think you will forgive me when you find out what I have in store for you over the next few weeks.

This is very exciting and I hope that you'll just jump on the bandwagon and get excited with me. Or at least pretend to be. But seriously, I think this is really exciting. But more than just exciting, I hope you will find this introduction to the blog to be inspirational, not just for men, but for women as well, especially in the South African context. 

It was in my late teens, my student years at Wits, that I developed what I shall call an awareness of the social ills scourging South Africa. And it was during this time that I started formulating what I thought my role in society would be. The year was 2003, to be exact. 

You didn’t have to look hard to see that ours was an ailing society. The scourge was all over. Men in South Africa were just a broken species. Many black men, and I am one, were showing these symptoms in very stark displays. This brokenness manifested itself in many ways. 

For me, this brokenness was epitomised when in late 2001, news came out that a 9 month old little girl, "Baby Tshepang”, had been brutally raped in the town of Upington, in the Northern Cape. Her mother’s boyfriend was charged for the brutal rape.

Over the last 15 years, South Africa, has, very unfortunately, become accustomed to similar reports of brutal sexual attacks on women and children. We have come to accept it as a way of life that, every day, we will open our newspapers and be greeted with news about the rape, sexual abuse of toddlers, teenagers, young women, you name it!! I mean, not even our grandmothers are safe from their own grandsons. 

One day a friend of mine made a statement on Facebook that left me just sad. It was in 2013, news came out of the rape of yet another baby, again in the Northern Cape, but this time in town of Kimberley. This time the little victim was just 6 months old when she was allegedly raped by her uncle. By her uncle! A friend of mine, who was then just a brand new father of a baby girl, mentioned how unfortunately, he would never be comfortable leaving his daughter in the care of another man, in fear of having her fall prey into the hands of the perversity of men. Sadly, I shared the sentiments. Although, I am not a father, the thought makes me shudder. I just don’t know how I would react were I to find out that my god-daughter suffered that fate. 

And it’s not just sexual abuse that makes ours an ailing society. The lack of present and involved fathers in the lives of many, many young people is a huge pandemic in our country, the effects of which can never be fully told. Our prisons are filled with inmates, many of whom were raised in fatherless homes. It's not difficult see the correlation.  

Recently, the new leader of the Democratic Alliance (DA), the official opposition party in South Africa, Mmusi Maimane, held a “Town Hall” meeting on Tweeter, using the hashtag #AskMmusi. South Africans, being the hilarious bunch that we are, decided to use this opportunity to make light and poke fun at the whole point of the Town Hall meeting. Instead of asking and engaging the new leader about his vision for South Africa and the policies of his party, Maimane had to field a litany of questions which had absolutely nothing to do with his leadership of the party. No sooner had the Town Hall meeting started that questions like “why did the chicken cross the road?”, and “who let the dogs out?” were asked. He was also asked if black people would finally, under his leadership, get the air conditioner remote control. 

By the end of the day, a hundred thousand tweets had been generated under that hashtag making it trend worldwide. Of course, the majority of the 100 000 tweets had nothing to do with Mmusi’s leadership. It was all about having fun at the expense of the young leader. But in the "mess" that was the Town Hall meeting, there was one Tweet that just caught my eye and attention. Although, it seemed to be light and written in jest like many others, it found a spot in my heart and I was painfully struck. The tweet simply read “Where is my dad? #AskMmusi”. 

I obviously don’t know the person who sent that tweet, nor do I know their personal circumstances or why they sent it. At the risk of being too speculative, I'd say the tweet was cheekily making a point about the scourge of fatherlessness in our country by asking a question thousands, if not millions of South Africans, are asking themselves: "where is my father?" It's a loaded and painful question isn’t it? Many, and I mean MANY people, both young and old, have little knowledge of their paternity. And even if they do, very few have an existing relationship with their living fathers, let alone know their whereabouts.  

Our problems are many. And they are huge. 

But, (and this is a very big BUT), even in this maze of problems in which our country finds itself because of us, men, I believe there IS hope. 

And this hope has always been there. And it is our responsibility to spread that hope. The thing is it’s very easy to be despondent and just go along with the wave of believing that ours is a country doomed to a future where men, especially black men, are irresponsible fathers, criminals or sexual savages. 

But, no my friends. That’s not all that South Africa is. Even in this negativity, we are still surrounded by a huge throng of men who are great fathers, leaders and these are men who are doing great things in our country, albeit very silently. I simply refuse to allow society to paint South African men with one horrendous brush, parading us as savages who simply do not know what it means to be great fathers, uncles or caring lovers. 

I mean, I think I was raised by a great father. And he wasn’t alone. I was surrounded by a community of fathers who cared for me, as they did for the next kid. And over the next few weeks, I will be bringing one of these men to this platform, and a few other great men I have come to know, operating in different spheres. 

You will get to meet the man who raised me, my father. He has graciously agreed for me to interview him as we ponder on these societal and other personal issues. So I will not just be talking to him as a spiritual leader that he is, but as a father. 

You will also get an opportunity to know and have an experience with an amazing young man who, at a young age, at a time when he was supposed to be "eating his youth", as it were, circumstances led him to single fatherhood, fathering kids who were not his. 

We also have lined up, an amazing psychiatrist, a young black man (hope he doesn’t kill me for referring to him as a young man). With him, we will delve into the issue of male depression and how this is playing out in society. Many men live with depression, and this is a silent killer terrorizing our families and communities. You often wonder how a quiet, friendly man comes home and decides to pump bullets into the bodies of his wife and children. We have heard and read of many such stories. 

We will also few other men from different walks of life will also be featured. 

In a very interactive format, I will be interviewing these great souls, man-to-man, to get glimpses of their lives. You will get front row seats as we interview and get their thoughts on the state of manhood in South Africa. We will interrogate a wide variety of issues, from fatherhood to male depression, from men and relationships to integrity in the corporate world. We will leave no stone unturned. 

I live for a day where the question “where is my dad?” is taboo. A world where no child ever wonders where their living father is. A world where men are no longer the villains we have come to believe they are. I live for the day when black men will be the epitome of excellence and integrity.

The Tender Trap

By Sibo Lefalatsa

I have this tendency, of saying something and then getting funny looks. I don’t get it. I was talking to a colleague when we discussed something about being married and I ended a sentence with the words, “I’m not perfect and I don’t have to be”. The Shock The Horror. Honestly, what is shocking about a wife admitting she’s not perfect and doesn’t think less of herself for it?

It’s like that Tastic ad where they say we moms might not be the best this or that but at least we make the best meals through Tastic. Uhm, well in many ways I’m not those things and it doesn’t bother me at all. I’ve never looked at a mother who can sew her child’s clothes and thought, ooh I should really be a better mom. No, my child won’t wear torn clothes through the mechanisms available to me and his father. My mother didn’t sew anything other than buttons and hemlines, so what? She’s awesome.

 

Then you get this thing where celebrity women who’ve been married for a day, keep being asked for secrets to marriage. They’ll tell you all sorts of things, and it seems to be implied that there is a one size fits all, that you as a woman should do or stop doing for a happy marriage. Newsflash, marriage is a relationship between two people, the connection that those two people have is unique to them. What works for one couple, will not necessarily work for another and sometimes it’s not practical, for that couple.  

Many people who have been married for long actually don’t know why they have been married for so long, when they think back to the times when it nearly came to an end but by the grace of God it didn’t. They also know there will be another crisis and who knows what that crisis is and how it will be resolved. You can’t really believe that there are people sitting smugly thinking that the only difference between us and the couple that didn’t make it, is because we’re really awesome.

A long time ago while at Wits, I was having a conversation with a friend of mine. She was explaining how she had made some terrible mistake and had been dumped for the error. She went back home and proceeded to beg the boyfriend for forgiveness and to take her back.

Now at that time I had never had a boyfriend before and knew nothing of the dirty business that is love. To my ears I couldn’t think of a more demeaning situation. A woman, crawling to a guy to beg for forgiveness!

I can’t remember exactly what I said, but you know what I thought? I thought, woman have you no self respect? Clearly my facial expressions asked the question for me because she responded by asking me what I expected her to do when she had done wrong.

Here’s the thing, I had been taught to apologise when wrong like most people, but I always assumed, having watched movies that the guy does the chasing, begging and pleading, because he does the wrongdoing. Maybe what I really thought was, what could she possibly have done to result in her being in such an intolerable position where she had to beg for forgiveness?

You might think the presentation of men as the perpetual relationship transgressors, begging and slobbering for forgiveness should be a positive prejudice for women. You would be wrong, it isn’t, it is in fact a trap.

There is a trap that women perpetually operate under, it’s the perfection trap. It operates on the basis that women should be perfect, should aim to be perfect. It implies that failing to meet these perfection expectations means you deserve whatever abandonment, rejection and condemnation you receive. Because you have been raised to believe that perfection is your goal, you become child-like, perceiving all unhappiness in your life to be a reflection of your imperfection. This stings, it stings badly, which is why when you explain a failed relationship or an emotionally bruising argument to friends and family you are at pains to project yourself as the innocent, long suffering, perfect wife/girlfriend and therefore not deserving of the bad treatment or ill fate you have experienced.

Why? Why can’t a woman accept herself for what she is and expect the same for others. How about saying, no I’m not perfect, yes I did make the mistake but that does not entitle anyone to treat me like crap.

I was having a conversation with my husband during which I explained that, though I have been married for almost 8 years and have been with him for 13 years (I mean that accounts for my whole adult life, I’ve been with this person since I was 18) however this says nothing of my worth. I don’t perceive myself as good, as somehow well behaving because I’ve been in this relationship for so long. Likewise if, God forbid, I were ever to be single again I wouldn’t judge myself in that instance either. I would not be a bad person or woman just for being once married and now a single person.

What I mean is, when I am a married woman, I have good and bad within me and even if I were to be single I would still have good and bad in me. I feel no pressure to present myself as striving for perfection and being the victim of people around me as if I don’t also give as good as I get.

I am striving always to be a good person. Responsible for the life I live and the people who are counting on me. I judge myself like I judge my husband, he is a good person, he is not perfect, never has been. It doesn’t make him any less worthy of love and respect. However even if he were to cease to be my husband that does not speak to his worth as a person, he would still be great, maybe just not great for me. Leave it at that.

These ridiculous messages we give women that tell them always to reflect on themselves, their looks, their humility or lack thereof, their cooking skills or lack thereof, seems to lead to 2 things I despise in chit chat with women, either:

single women mock and judge another woman getting married as not being good enough to get married, often she’s seen as too ugly, or old  or has a  “history” (good euphemism there hey J); or

married women, when going through the ebbs and flows of marriage (you know those times when really you keep asking yourself what the hell am I doing here?) they go on what I call ‘a campaign”, where they speak ad nauseum about how much they do and list every single sin the husband has committed. When you’re done with this conversation, the guy is just the biggest loser on planet Earth and you don’t know how you ever thought this guy is even a human being.

The campaign seems to be aimed at gathering support for the impending break up, it seems to say, “don’t judge me. I was perfect but this guy is so awful he’s beyond the redemption of even a perfect woman”. The guy on the other hand, speaks little of his own perfection but presents himself as the victim of the wife’s imperfection.

Ladies, come on let’s cut this, say it loud and proud “I am not perfect, I make mistakes, serious ones too sometimes. I sometimes have to apologise for being a fool, sometimes I’m the perpetrator and I apologise and ask for forgiveness when I do so. However, no matter the mistake, I still deserve the respect reserved for all human beings, my imperfection is not to be used by you to justify abusive language and abusive conduct and likewise you don’t have to praise me or love me for my perfection. Your presence in my life is not certification of my perfection and so you are not in a position to retract the perfection stamp of approval. You can just love me for who and what I am, or not…”  Drops mic…