Alive Again. Andre Eva Bosch
loved having conversations with my favourite teacher, Mr Khumalo. Mr Khumalo was that same teacher who wore the Madiba shirts and whom my mother had met in the taxi so many years earlier, the one who said I should be a lawyer. During our conversations, he helped me decide what kind of lawyer I wanted to be one day. More than anything else, I wanted to protect women like my mother against men like my father. Mr Khumalo said it made sense – and I had hands-on experience. He said I should specialise in human rights law.
Mr Khumalo was not only my favourite teacher, he was also one of my greatest supporters. Because we didn’t have a computer at home, I would stay after school to do homework on the computers in the IT-class, and one afternoon he suggested I have a good look at the University of the Witwatersrand website.
“Not long before you’re in matric. Start now to focus your attention strongly on your dream. Wits has a great law faculty. Believe with passion that you will be studying there one day soon. I can see you there already, Nandi!” he said.
At that moment there was a little flutter in my tummy, as if a soft feather was tickling me on the inside. I knew for sure in that moment that my footpath was turning towards the rising sun.
Later that afternoon, going home in the taxi, I imagined the following scene:
I am a qualified lawyer. In my handbag I always carry my business cards in a white-and-gold holder. Nandile Dube, Human Rights Lawyer. Each time I hand a card to someone, I want to burst with happiness.
* * *
Soon after I turned fifteen, my dream of becoming a lawyer received an unexpected boost at school. I remember it well: it was a sunny spring morning in September. A lawyer all the way from Johannesburg, a certain Mr Bongani, had come to school to speak to us about our country’s constitution, and especially about youth rights in South Africa. Mr Khumalo had invited Mr Bongani to our school.
When Mr Bongani had finished his speech, he opened the floor for questions. My hand shot up.
“Please, sir, can you tell us a bit more about your career as a lawyer?”
Mr Bongani explained how tough the law courses at university were and how committed one had to be to see them through. He went on to say how rewarding it was to be a lawyer, how a legal practice could be a platform from which one could help others and also make great changes in society.
“Being a qualified lawyer empowers one to change lives,” Mr Bongani said. “There are many people in our country who do not have a voice. They are afraid to speak out and claim their human rights. Lawyers can make a huge difference to their lives. Let me add, though, that many lawyers are not ethical; they are more interested in money than people. I prefer to speak about lawyers who work with integrity, honesty and compassion.”
While he was speaking, Mr Khumalo, who was sitting on the stage facing us, caught my eye. He raised his eyebrows and smiled. I knew that smile of encouragement well; it always made me feel that he really took me seriously.
Maybe you also know what it is like when an adult you like and respect really, really believes in you? That warm feeling which lifts you up and gives you hope and a reason to pursue your dreams? That is how I felt in that moment. Like the sparkling sunlight which streamed through the windows of the school hall, Mr Khumalo’s acknowledgement flooded my whole body with a bright, warm, happy feeling.
Everything the lawyer said was music to my ears. Some learners yawned and one or two nodded off, but I was fired up. I had so much energy that I could have run a marathon, and won.
When the speech was over, Mr Khumalo called me aside and introduced me to Mr Bongani.
“Nandi is a promising student. She works hard and she’s determined to study law one day. She is one of our best debaters also,” Mr Khumalo enthused.
Mr Bongani, with a sincere expression in his eyes, said, “Our country needs good lawyers, and we need women in law. Keep your dream alive, Nandi. You sound like an ideal candidate for this career.” He gave me a tap of encouragement on my shoulder.
He turned to Mr Khumalo. “My son’s school in Johannesburg is planning a debating competition for high schools in February next year. I’ll be an adjudicator. We want to include learners from far and wide, and we would love to invite your school. Why don’t I help you arrange for Nandi to take part? In fact, your school could send your two top debaters.”
“Brilliant idea!” Mr Khumalo replied, beaming. “Nandi and her best friend, Maryke, are our top debaters. How does a visit to Johannesburg sound, Nandi?”
I almost jumped out of my skin with excitement. “Are you serious, sir?” I asked.
“Take it as done. And tell Maryke,” said Mr Khumalo, taking hold of Mr Bongani’s arm and heading off to the staffroom, loudly discussing the details of the debating competition.
I was good at debating. Mr Khumalo always said that all good debaters had one thing in common: they read a lot. And that is exactly what I did. I was a regular in the school library and I loved curling up on my bed, my nose in a book.
“Knowledge creates confidence,” was one of Mr Khumalo’s favourite expressions. And whenever I stood on stage, facing the audience, I felt as if the world was at my feet. And words came easily to me. My mother had been right – I was born talking.
I ran off to find Maryke to tell her about our good fortune. Being who she is, she immediately burst out with, “Boys! It’ll be raining boys!”
I laughed and hugged my friend. I was also excited about the boys we would meet, but I was even more excited about going to Johannesburg. Unlike Maryke, I had never been to the City of Gold. I had been as far as Middelburg once, for a debating competition, but never to Johannesburg. For me it was as good as going overseas, to New York or London. And Johannesburg was where the University of the Witwatersrand was.
Mpumalanga was home, but Johannesburg was my City of Dreams.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.