The Book of ProVerb. Tebogo Thekisho
gave me an invaluable piece of advice. His exact words were, ‘Just remember, it’s not about you.’ And let me tell you, I wasn’t ready to hear that; I didn’t understand what he meant. It just didn’t register with me. Instead, I thought to myself, ‘Why would he say that? Of course it’s about me!’
At the time, I was a youngster who had just been given a great gig, and I did not have the maturity to understand what Gareth meant. But as time passed, his advice made more sense to me. Idols SA is about South Africa and its people. I have had to respect that and approach the job with that understanding. When I look back now, I see Gareth’s advice as the best anybody could have given me for my Idols career, and for me as a person. Gareth gave me the right perspective, and I thank him for it. Presenting the show is such a privilege, and at the end of each episode I always make a point of expressing my gratitude for the opportunity. I do not take it lightly – a decade later, I am still grateful for it.
My key takeaway from hosting the show is this: some blessings have your name on them, and you have to be open to accepting them. I got the Idols gig almost by chance, but what if I had said no? Because I’m from hip hop and this is a pop show, I didn’t expect things to work out for me. I also had hardly any experience hosting a live TV show; I’d done a few live shows during my Channel O days, but mostly I did pre-recorded shows. The other personalities who auditioned were much more experienced than I was, so I considered myself incredibly lucky to have bagged what turned out to be the best gig of my career. So it taught me how important it is to always remain open to opportunities, regardless of how they happen.
Idols has been there for me in many ways. The show helped fuel my purpose. One Friday night I was convinced that my life had zero value to anybody, but two days later, on the Sunday night, I was proven wrong. I was reminded why I had to stay alive, why I had to be there, presenting the show; nobody else was going to do it. Restoring my sense of purpose proved invaluable to me. When I was going through my worst personal challenges, Idols gave me a reason to leave the house; I would probably have turned into a recluse and dug myself into a hole otherwise. The show forced me to actively continue living and move forward. It was a reminder that life goes on, no matter what. I therefore think of the show as a blessing, and I even say so when I present it.
I often wonder what would have happened to me had Idols not been there when my life took the painful path it did. The show was there for me in a way that people could not be. A person can hug and console you, but they can’t make you get up and face the world; that is what this platform did for me. Its significance in my life goes deeper than that of a job or career.
I started presenting the show when I was in my late twenties, and I am now in my late thirties. I lived in a flat then; now I own eight properties. I went from being unemployed to having multiple hustles. I was married with two children, and now I am a single dad. I weighed 100 kilograms then; now I am fit and much healthier. My mom and grandmother were fans of the show, and now they are no longer with us. There have been many significant changes over the years, but Idols SA remained consistent, and that’s why I’m so attached to it. So many things fell apart, but my gig was always with me.
As I’ve mentioned, I botched a line while auditioning for the job. Executive producer Gavin Wratten was the one who said, ‘Relax, try again.’ Only after that did I think I stood a chance. Had Gavin not given me that chance, I wouldn’t be where I am today. So this is the perfect time for me to express my deepest and sincerest gratitude to him, and to Anneke de Ridder, the producer of the show and a mother to the entire production team.
What a ride it has been – I am eternally grateful. I am also very grateful to you for buying my book, and I hope you enjoy reading it.
CHAPTER 2
Inspiration
Inspiration ages like wine
turns the pages of time.
Birthed in the soul, raised in the mind
nurtured in the spirit just waiting to be defined.
On 12 April 1981, my dad, whom I lovingly call Pa, was notified that my mom was in labour. He was studying medicine at Medunsa (now the Sefako Makgatho Health Sciences University), and drove all the way from the campus in Pretoria, Gauteng to Kimberley Day Hospital in the Northern Cape. He hoped to make it in time for my birth, but it was quite a distance. He only arrived the day after, which also happened to be his birthday, and he had to drive back that same day.
When he walked into the ward to meet my newborn self, my mother handed me over like a gift and said, ‘Happy birthday.’ Pa beamed with joy. They named me Tebogo Sidney Thapelo Thekisho. My middle name, Sidney, was given to me by my father, after his best friend Sidney Kolwane from Ratau in the North West, whom I believe passed away shortly before I was born. To this day, Pa and I have a tradition of celebrating our birthdays together whenever possible, and if we can’t be together, we have to call each other.
My parents – Dr Tsatsi David Thekisho and Dr Nomonde Geraldine Phetlho – met in 1979 as students at the University of the North. My mom was doing her final year in social work, and my dad was a first-year BSc student. They started off as friends and spent all their free time together on campus. After a few weeks they officially became an item and married the following year, when my mom was working at her first job, in Kuruman in the Northern Cape. My dad was a second-year medical student at Medunsa by then. Because my mom had just started her career and my dad was still a student when I was born, they agreed that my maternal grandmother would raise me.
After he graduated, Pa set up his doctor’s practice in Thaba ’Nchu, a good sixty kilometres outside Bloemfontein in the Free State. When I was little, he drove from Thaba ’Nchu to Kimberley to celebrate my birthday with me as often as he could. He always asked me what present I wanted, which I thought was very special. That was our tradition. Once, he even pitched up at my school and gave the teacher an excuse so that I could leave class early. He took me to Spur, which was the best restaurant in my small town at the time.
One year I asked for a bicycle. Pa bought it for me, but it would not fit into the boot of his car, no matter how we manoeuvred it. To solve the problem, Pa asked me to ride the bicycle from the store in town to my grandmother’s home in the township. Along the way, he alternated between driving behind and in front of me to ensure that I was safe and could not be knocked by other motorists. At one particular intersection, he pulled over, got out and shouted, ‘Keep going, my boy, keep going!’ I will never forget that.
My favourite memory of my dad is him taking me on a road trip to Cape Town during the school holidays, when I was still a laaitie in primary school. Also on that trip were two youngsters whom I would later learn were my half-brothers – my father’s children from previous relationships. So that is how I met Mpho, whom I call Mapoza, and our older half-brother Thabo. Sadly, Thabo has since passed on, and even though we weren’t close, I often think of the awesome holiday we spent together.
Pa had told me about this holiday months in advance, and man, I couldn’t wait. I was counting down the days! Every time my friends came to visit me at my grandmother’s house, I would show them what I had packed for the trip. That holiday was the beginning of a great brotherhood and friendship between me and Mapoza, which was facilitated by our father. Thabo was much older than me, but Mapoza and I were closer in age. I consider him to not only be my friend, but my true brother.
Back then, holidays were a foreign concept to me, but I am sure that’s where the travel bug bit. I have fond memories of that trip and cherish the many photos we took. Pa even tried to teach me how to swim, which was an epic and terrifying fail, because I nearly drowned! Thank God I eventually became a good swimmer.
We took many more trips after that one, most of which were unplanned, because Pa loves to live in the moment. Once, in Bloemfontein, Mapoza and I were sitting in the back of my dad’s car when he turned to us and randomly suggested that we go somewhere. ‘Durban or Cape Town?’ he asked.
Mapoza and I were confused and surprised, but we immediately cried, ‘Cape Town!’
‘Cool!’ said Pa, and the very next day we were off to Cape Town.
My