Putco Mafani: The Price and Prize of Greatness. Putco Mafani
visited Bethel. The same can be said of famous businessmen Mr Phil Khumalo, father of Pam Khumalo; Mr Monde Zingisa; and Mr Sihele, who was the owner of Fingoland Motors in Butterworth, the father of Mvume Sihele and his sister Zuzi. These are a few of those I remember who came to visit driving expensive German cars such as the long Mercedes-Benz of the late ’70s and early ’80s.
Boarding-school life levelled our social status as we were all subjected to the same conditions, such as the cold showers year-round because there was no hot water in the boys’ dormitory. I don’t know whether it was too expensive or maybe they thought it would toughen us up.
I have to admit that there were four times when I was expelled from school because of non-payment of fees by my mother. Yes, Bethel, our Adventist school, expelled learners when fees fell too far behind. But my mother would always find the money to keep me at school, and for that I am grateful.
Nowadays the school gets a government subsidy. This means that students of other religions are also allowed and that the teachers’ salaries are taken care of. Even during our time, there were a lot of learners who were not Adventists. And it did not matter what religion you followed elokishini – in the township – but once at Bethel, you would be expected to follow the Adventist route.
When my mother could afford a few more rand, she would buy me new grey pants. These were important to me as they helped me overcome another negative experience of grey uniform trousers that were mended over and over again with white cotton at the back. The more fortunate boys among us had four or five pairs of grey trousers.
Battling with issues such as these convinced me that once I got out of the campus and had secured my qualifications, few would catch me in the wide world.
At Bethel, I found it fascinating being in charge of myself. I could decide what to wear to church, and what to buy on staff and student shopping days. The exposure to other languages and cultures helped me appreciate the immense social cohesion Bethel presented to all of us. I also enjoyed rubbing shoulders with the school’s American missionaries and learning their twang. Because of the diversity of the many cultures on campus, English was a compulsory language spoken in almost all facets of our interactions. But I soon learnt different languages and became familiar with the various accents.
Bethel was widely known in the Transkei and in South Africa as a good private school where students mastered languages, achieved good results, and were of a high moral standing. This was why the school was also referred to as the KwaSirayeli – Israelites’ camp.
At Bethel, there were streetlights and a lot of trees. We liked being in the shade of these trees because they offered a place to chat with our girlfriends. And then maybe getting a kissinyana – a kiss before separating. That was the only thing you could get, the kiss. Nothing more. Bethel was strict. The school considered sex before marriage taboo, and our consciences spoke to us. If a girl fell pregnant, she was expelled. We were educated on how to conduct ourselves and our sexuality. We read books like Ellen G. White’s Messages to Young People.
Moral uprightness was the order of the day. This was complemented by the stern disciplinary culture of all my principals and deputy principals. There was Mr Milton Siepman and Pastor Du Preez, whom we nicknamed Mshefane, as he was short and his speech was often unclear, just like a character by the name of Mshefane in an old South African comedy, Inyakanyaka. After Mshefane, we had Pastor JJ Mdakane and Pastor Leepile.
Pastor JJ Mdakane died in 2019. He was a disciplinarian who had mastered the art of dealing with students. He was not militant, but he had a clever psychological approach and a distinct voice. I used to imitate him a lot. I would hide and say loudly, as he used to, ‘Hey, ngenani emaklasini nina’– ‘Hey, go to your classes’. And learners would run to their classes, although some realised it was me playing the fool. When we had entertainment nights, during the talent shows, I would play Mdakane. Mdakane was very dark, strikingly dignified, and feared by most learners at Bethel.
Pastor Leepile came from Limpopo. After a giant like ‘Mdakes’, as we called Mdakane, we had Leepile who was quiet and lighter in complexion. When the new principal, Pastor Leepile, arrived at Bethel, we all said, ‘Sadla!’ – ‘Freedom!’
Mr Thula Nkosi was an excellent administrator. His handwriting looked like an official font on a computer. In fact, I would name a font ‘ThulaNkosi’. His signature was also fascinating. It was a carefully designed work of art. It inspired my signature, too.
Mr GB Yaze was a great choral music producer, music arranger and conductor. Today, although retired, he is still famous in the Adventist churches around the country. Wherever he shows up, people surrender their choirs to him as an honour. From Ginsberg Seventh-Day Adventist Church to New Brighton Seventh-Day Adventist Church, Themba Seventh-Day Adventist School, Cancele Seventh-Day Adventist School and Bethel, there was always someone with good remarks about my registrar tishala, teacher uYaze.They complimented him on his knowledge of and passion for choral and quartet music. It was unequalled. In my church, he was a name larger than the music itself.
Then there was my hero for academic excellence whose logical superiority, appetite for research, and good command of the English language fascinated me, and, of course, his handwriting, too. Mr Mfundo Mayaba – also retired in Port Elizabeth – was my isiXhosa teacher from 1978 to 1983. On the days when we were doing literature, he would tell the class to open their books and follow quietly while I read. He would tell the learners that this would feel like they were listening to the radio.
I salute all those who made a contribution to the man I am.
My teachers: Mr Ray ka Msengana and Ms Smondile, whose presence on campus as the girls’ matron was felt by everyone – girls and boys alike.
My English teachers, Pastor Dumba, Pastor Solomon Lebese and Mr Mfundo Mayaba, who at one stage was also my isiXhosa teacher; Miss Hlubi (Mrs Motha); my science and biology teachers, Mr Gerry Yaze and Mr Birkenstock; and my maths teachers, Ms Silana, Ms Sanqele and Mr Xolo Mfeka.
All my boarding masters, or preceptors as they were called on campus: Pastor Dumba, Mr JB Jakavula, Pastor Mantla and Pastor Bhengu were all father figures who in one way or another shaped me more than the academic staff.
Pastor Dumba was from Zimbabwe. We considered it a privilege to have a pastor from another African country. In those days, black people from other parts of Africa received red-carpet treatment here. Those were different times when there was no competition for resources as black people were not benefiting from the economy.
These preceptors did not know about ukushafula. Dumba was a preceptor during my bed-wetting shuffling; Jakavula was a preceptor during this time as well and they knew about my condition but they never embarrassed me. Although I was not the only one oshafulayo, as I have said my problem kept recurring until I saw the doctor.
Ms Hlubi, who is now Mrs Motha, had a royal accent and her command of English was super. She would go on to be my communications lecturer when I did my diploma.
Gerry Yaze was the son of Pastor GB Yaze, the music genius. Gerry taught me physical science and biology. He was brilliant and was also good in music. He was thin but used to wear size-twelve shoes. Izihlangu zakhe zaziqala zivele emnyango! His shoes would stick out the door first when walking out!
Mr Birkenstock was the husband of the college nurse who ran the school’s clinic. He was our biology teacher. I remember his explaining the reproductive system, how the sperm swam and so on. Pha pha, nini nini – in the meantime, Mrs Birkenstock was pregnant. We said among ourselves that, ja nhe, they put it into practice. Whenever Mrs Birkenstock came into the class pushing her tummy, her husband would say, ‘You see, but you don’t do this now because you are still learners.’
And my maths teacher, Ms Silana, used to talk fast. We had to ask her to repeat what she had said, as maths needed a bit of explaining.
Then there was Ms Sanqele, who came from Cape Town. She was quiet and patient. I had not been to the Mother City. We would ask her about the city and she would tell us about Table Mountain and how flat it was. And being a maths teacher, she even drew the mountain using a T-square.
In grades 11 and 12, we had Mr