Mr. Nienaber | antakalipa

Long hair again (full circle).

I’ve got long hair again, you know, a symbol of artistic expression. Look man, I’ve always been an artist and I have used dreadlocks as an avenue to express that outlet before. When I was in high school, junior years, I started making the investment, I liked them loose but I had to conform to the schools rules, you know, God governments hand reaches everywhere, you have no other option but to conform. I made it difficult for them, I used to plait wild hairstyles, teachers would ask me “Why don’t you plait the normal way?” I would laugh and shrug it off. I would get called to the Principal’s office often and most times I won. I had creative stories. It was my encounter with authority and the Principal was a great guy, who just wanted you to conform. I mean you are representing the school, like be professional man. I remember one time, things were heated, I knew they would want to assert their authority, so I intercepted it like Busquets, I forged a letter allegedly from my mother that made references that she was a Sangoma and I couldn’t cut off my dreadlocks. All lies, deception, I made it all up. I wanted to test him, his skin color was different to mine, I wanted to confuse him. He responded “But this is not a Sangoma school and you must obey”. I was like okay, fair, I started doing hairstyles that were demeable by their standards. The office started being a dark place for me. It was poisoned and contaminated. Even the office ladies were in it telling me “Why don’t you do the right things”? They had plenty of time to see me in the office. I was always there. I was the class captain, so I helped them with the administration aspects of the job, I was also the U14 soccer coach so I made a lot announcements, I was a regular in the Principal’s office. I didn’t have a problem with Mrs. Ras and Miss. Nkabinde (deputy principals), they were like mothers to me, God bless, it was homely. I remember the office lady was fed up and wanted to show me my mortality, it was a do or die proposition, 3 months before RCL elections. She appealed to me and asked “How are you going to be an RCL with that hair?”, not surprising I was back to my old creative ways, Mohawk deadlock hairstyle, she continued “Just do the right thing”. She wanted the RCL gig for me. That was a magical moment. I stopped and started contemplating things. What are they seeing that I am not? We were too familiar, our interaction was real, it was directly aimed at me and it came with a lot of love. Things would be better for me I thought. I would redefine myself again. It’s an opportunity, I thought. These women are taking care of me, let it happen, yield. The next Monday I was a different man, I cut off my dreadlocks. Difficult decision but it needed to be done. When the office lady saw me for the first time that morning, she lighted up like a Christmas tree and cheered with delight. Everyone else came out and they saw a different man. The looks on their faces were great. It was beautiful. They didn’t say much but they were glad I made the decision. I was too. Things started opening up for me and not surprisingly I became an RCL, it was great, everyone loved me again in the office, I was in heaven. My two friends whom I did the OPI concert with, quit the job after a couple of weeks but it was their problem, I made it abundantly clear with them. Fuck them, let them quit, fools, I am staying here, my life is good. People who never had a “why? “. We have different paths gentlemen, I wish you all the best. I stayed on and fulfilled my tasks and responsibilities. I wanted to serve my peers, it was an honor. My decision to stay on made me more popular in the office, it was my school, but undercover, don’t let them see, subtle dominance, don’t expose yourself. I had Intel on the whole school, the office, the ground people for my soccer, the teachers, the deputies, the principal and the headgirl of course. I even got a certificate for being the “most helpful”, it is by far my best certificate because it came from a real place, it wasn’t about academics, it was “thanks, I appreciate your help”, it was warm, it had a special touch, it was personalized, the teacher (Mr. Pitseng) was filled with gratitude and enthusiasm, I accepted in kind. Mr. Pitseng was great.

I laughed when the whole Question paper saga happened. It was so obvious, everyone involved was a fool, they were expedient, no emotional intelligence whatsoever, they just swallow the marshmallow while the examiner is still in the room. Their headboy was caught, clearly guilty, I laughed, I told everyone that he wasn’t right to lead. It was a PR disaster, tabloids were fed, the fool headboy spoiled things for everyone, the RCLs didn’t have a farewell party, we were all branded a waste because of the actions of one stupid boy. They stripped him off his title and confiscated his green blazer, the chair was disgraced. His picture was taken off at the office. There was no headboy now. Just a headgirl, she’s strong, she’s smart, she can handle this, Miss top of the pyramid, netball top goalscorer, best in the district, the Robert Lewandowski of netball, culture, the Harriet Khoza of the school, The Queen. I was surrounded by a lot of resources and infrastructure, I was friendly with a lot of teacher’s, they liked me, I preferred the older guys to my peers, they were more real and my interactions with them were hearty, the teaching never stopped in the classroom, they taught me about life outside school, I took the role of the active learner and I absorbed everything like a sponge. I was happy, it was great. I loved school.

Things have come back full circle, I have my dreadlocks again and I listened, which made my life better. Thank you to the good people of Rhodesfield Technical High in that period, everyone was great, the teachers, the quality, the office, the grounds men, it was great. I had the best time of my life there, I learned a lot. Mr. Dzumba was incredible! Mr. Dzumba taught me so much about life, it was deep, it was spiritual, some lessons were on the field, he taught me about winning, he was a winner! He taught me about intensity, commitment, apply yourself, have the best people by your side, keep them motivated and allocate yourselves based on your skills and talents. Be analytical, 4-4-2 is the most neutral and balanced system young man, get the best players for these positions and man management from there onwards – classic. I remember our Maths teacher (Mrs. Sebokwane) once advised a handful of us “When you go out into the world, don’t let them change you. You are perfect the way you are”. I know right, such great advice. Mrs. Sebokwane was the ultimate mother figure, I loved her classes even though I was horrible at Maths. Not surprisingly, her netball team was the best in the district. Her girls were competitive, athletic and dominant. They would have undefeated streaks and they had a strong crowd. Every morning after match day, the principal would read out their results on the quad and they would win by huge margins every time, their results always got a reaction from the school, the school was only interested in their results. I loved watching the netball girls play, it was watching greatness play, from defense to attack, they were so swift, so fluid, so calibrated, so fast and lethal – every offense was a goal. I was so proud of the netball girls.

I remember when my Arts & Culture teacher put my poster on display in her class for a group activity task. My classmates were deadweight and didn’t show enthusiasm for the project, so I did it alone. I mastered calligraphy and added a lot of content to my poster. I used sand as my border, I put glue on all sides and I filtered the sand on the sides. I tried to make it as creative as possible and at the same time minimalist and devoid of color. I was put on the wall with the best from other classes. Every morning I saw my poster, I was proud.

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High school tales

I remember when we had to compile a business plan for EMS (Economic Management Science), it was a group activity. I was excited. We sat in a group of 4. In my group was a friend, Roloti and a couple of 2 deadweight guys, Ntokozo and Ayola. They were a couple of bullies. They failed at least 2 times and they were bigger than me and Roloti. Naturally these two deadbeat guys never assisted with the project. Ayola bunked EMS class and Ntokozo while he didn’t bunk did nothing at all. He (Ntokozo) was a trouble maker and was just intent on causing trouble and disturbing the class, he gambled at the back of the class. I did the project with Roloti. We collaborated well together. Roloti’s contribution was excellent and our business plan looked good. But it didn’t look good to me, it lacked that something extra. I was very enthusiastic about the project and I asked Roloti to take it home and complete it. He trusted me and so he obliged me. I perfected the Business Plan and handed it in the next time we went to EMS class. I wrote my name and Roloti’s on the project, it was only fair, the other two guys didn’t do anything, absolute deadweights, they didn’t do anything. Upon submitting the project Ntokozo intercepted me and wanted me to add his name but I refused. I put the the project on the teachers table and went to sit down. He took the project from the table and added his name to the project. I let it happen, it wasn’t in my handwriting. Ayola was still bunking EMS class so he couldn’t add his name. When the results came out we got 96%, the highest of the grade. I was elated. Although totally unfair, Ntokozo also got a 96% passing grade. When we got the results, Ayola was there, he was pissed because he got a 0. His fury was directed at me. I shouldered the responsibility because I did most of the work and chose to omit his and Ntokozo’s names, it was only fair. Ntokozo was lucky he got that 96%. Ayola lacked self-awareness and blamed everyone for his problems. I am not stupid, I am not going to credit you for work you didn’t do. Although he was bigger and intimidating, I was no pussy. He intimidated and threatened me instructing me to tell the teacher that he was in the project too. I did no such thing but I gave him the illusion that I would. I didn’t crack under his sustained threats and empty promises, he was a bully and I didn’t appreciate being bullied and so I outright ignored him. I gave him no target to hit. I was illusive like smoke or like that one girl you want but could never hit. I denied him off my energy – let him do what he must. Fuck you nigga, you can be all up in my face and point fingers but I ain’t intimidated by you! I was always proud I didn’t let him get to me. Bullies thrive on the power you give them. At the end of the term I got 94% for EMS, it was a great term.

When I was in Grade 10 I was inspired to share a message with the whole school for morning assembly. The message was “Dream On”, to aspire to be more. “Dream On” was also a company that I had formed in my head. Not a company exactly but a movement, a promise to myself to never betray my heart. I was always a dreamer and I never wanted to lose that. I wanted a totem to remind me of “Dream On” and who I was everyday. I started being creative and searched for graphic designers who would create a logo for me. I loved music and Kanye West was my absolute hero and so I wanted to incorporate music into the logo. “Dream On” would be like “GOOD music”. I got a really talented graphic designer to create the logo for me. I gave him a picture of me and asked him to create a music logo. Those were bland specifications but he was a creative and enthusiastic. He created a classic logo for me. I loved it, it was perfect. I can’t do what he did, I was impressed. Now that I had a logo, I wanted to create a badge, something to validate me, a totem that I’d wear everyday to remind me to never forget who I was. I went to a internet cafe in Kempton Park with my logo and I told the guy working there my vision. Creating a custom made employee badge would be expensive and it would take time but he liked me, he liked my spirit and energy, we made something happen. He located this plastic badge in his drawer and took out the marketing paper within the badge and then asked for me to send him my logo and so I did. He took this thick paper and printed the logo on it. The printout was small and he cut the logo to fit the badge. Then he inserted the logo in the badge and covered it with transparent plastic. The final product was honestly a dream. It was a perfect badge that would last forever. It was a personalized experience, a favor because he liked my energy, he took his time and went beyond duty. I was so grateful and appreciative. It is literally the best service I’ve ever received in my life. Everything about that experience was custom made. I asked him how much I owed him and he replied R30. I couldn’t believe it. I paid him and put my badge on. I wore that badge EVERYDAY for 2 straight years. The day I shared the “Dream On” message with the school, I had my badge on. It was so great. I talked about dreams, never giving up, Moneeb Josephs & Orlando Pirates. I also prayed for the school. Thank you Mr. Pitseng & Mr. Nienaber for giving me the opportunity. I am eternally grateful.

I remember when I was in grade 8 and I made fun of my friend Christopher for being in the last Grade 8 class “J”. I teased and laughed at him but I was no better, I was second last on “I”. Christopher took it like a man and was silent probably thinking “Fool”. Then the next year when we proceeded to the 9th Grade the “J” class ceased to exist. My class, the “I” class was now the last and Christopher was now in the “D” class. The roles were now switched and he made sure I felt it. He teased and laughed at me. It was a humbling experience. Then a year later we were reunited on the “A” class. It was great. Christopher and I were evenly matched at almost everything. Once we both got 10% on a mathematics examination, it was a freak occurrence, a bad day at the office for both of us, it was funny, sharing that experience with Christopher was special and what was supposed to be a bad day was a good day; we laughed at one another. Also, we beat each other at cross country, I won once and he won once so we decided to call it even – there’s no need for a third race; we were both the best. He was a very good friend of mine.

I remember when I was in Grade 9 and I got a 98% passing grade on my Life Orientation exam, Mr. Faku was impressed. I had a lot to say, I used up more than 10 A4 papers. Next to my 98% was a gold sticker and the comment “very good”. I was elated. My friends were happy for me. At break instead of the usual Chiproll which cost R5 and Allsorts Sweets that also cost R5 – I went all out at the tuck shop, I bought Kota that cost R10, Coca-Cola can that cost R6, Allsort sweets that cost R5 and two Doughnuts that cost R10. It was a special day, I deserved it. I went home feeling great about myself. Still in the same Grade, I remember when me and the gents each contributed R100 for a great chilled Friday afternoon. With that money we were planning on buying KFC buckets, snacks and Drinks (Alcohol) but also flavored carbonated water. I think we were like 10. It was Thabiso, Gift, Lefu, Ben and I can’t remember the rest with precision, I think Roloti and Thomo were there. The plan was simple, let’s get the money in on Thursday and we will buy the KFC early in the morning in Kempton Park – that way we will be the KFC boys at break. We assigned committees and divided the capital. Some gents would be buying snacks and cool drinks, the Alcohol we’ll get after school. Friday came and the gents who were in charge of buying the KFC came in a bit later but it was expected. The principal of the school Mr. Nienaber intercepted the gents as the were headed for class with KFC buckets.

It was clear as day why the gents were late; the KFC, it wasn’t the first time. He stopped them and altered their direction – straight to jail, the detention space. It was a space used for isolation. It had bars and it was cold. The gents were separated with the KFC for until after school. Inside the premises of the school we were anxious. “Where are the gents with our KFC?”. We connected via the internet and the gents told us the bad news that they were in Jail but they managed to buy the KFC and it’s safe for until after school. It was reassuring news but we would be hungry for the whole day. We didn’t make provisions for a disappointment. We chilled together on both breaks showing great solidarity, our time was coming.

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