Thuli, as she is so affectionately called
by her close friends, is a 28 year-old graduate at the John Wesley Community
Centre (JWCC) in Etwatwa, Daveyton. She
studied home-based care, a course that includes care for the invalid, the terminally
ill, the infirm; orphans and critical homes that generally need a medical work over.
It is not a nursing course, but home-based care givers nurse the sick.
The course is offered by Dream Wise
Trainings, and the principal, Trevor Lubisi and his assistants, Charmain
Phungwayo and Phindile Mtsali, are the enthusiastic and popular facilitators,
Thuli says.
She, Thuli, aims high. As high as the
medical field, she points out. And it is for this reason that she was at the
JWCC to do the course. “It is my ultimate dream to see myself as a nurse,” she
enthuses. She thinks caring for the community which still carries the stigma of
poverty and a low socio-economic outlook is the first priority for her. “For
instance, I want to teach children about medicines. Many people ignore kids and
that disadvantages the kids. We should give them attention.” She intends to
change the kids’ mindset towards their sicknesses. They should not be ashamed
of their sicknesses, she cautions, and they should be positive when they are
sick and not feel different from other kids. Or be insecure, she adds. “Kids
must understand that taking medicines is not the end of the world. And they
must stop thinking that diseases are a curse.”
She says it is fun to be at the JWCC and her
wish is that many people could do the home-based care course and when they do
it, take it seriously. “The people there are fun. Trevor is experienced in
these matters and he is so well-versed in what he is doing. What a beauty.”
After her dismal, miserable schooling
career, where she passed matric ‘by the grace of the Lord’, Thuli worked as a
cashier at Jamaica Wholesalers in Dunnswart, Boksburg. That lasted only four
forgettable months. Thereafter she took part in a periodic municipal project
cleaning streets in Etwatwa before going to rural Delmas to become a domestic
worker. “For five months I gave my all and forgot about my pride; I put food on
the table as I looked after my siblings, three younger boys. Just imagine me, a
very young, sassy and sexy girl like me was a domestic worker. Just
imagine.” She then moved west to
Roodepoort where she volunteered as a paramedic at the BC Medical Emergency
Services where she saved the life of a policeman. She has also had a stint at 2nd
Generation EMS as an emergency care worker.
She has a few certificates under her belt
this Thuli. She attended the Impact Fire
Tech and the De Vier Ambulance Academy. And, now, she is a graduate at the JWCC.
“I have done so much research about this
field that I feel I know what I am doing. I have the passion and the will to do
something here, to help people to stand on their feet. I want them to win.”
She attended Kgolagano and Rolihlahla
Primary Schools and later went on to Dr Harry Gwala and Rivoni High Schools.
NOW,
she beckons, LISTEN TO THIS…
I did not like school at all. In fact, I
always asked myself what in the world was I doing there. To me it was a total
waste of my time and that of those who were entrusted with my education. I
always passed because Christ felt sorry for me, not that I knew what was going
on. His grace was always there for me to see me through. I used to have a very
short memory. I would forget something as easy as the result of two plus two.
It is only years after I left school that a miracle happened; I can now understand
and remember what I have learned. Now I enjoy school and thanks to Trevor, this
is a whole new world. I wish I could turn back the clock and return to
elementary school. I ask myself why at school I had so much short memory, never
understanding anything of what was happening in the class room. What exactly
was happening to me at the time and what is happening to me now is still a
mystery to unfold.
At both Dr Gwala and at Rivoni I had a
weird mixture of subjects and I am surprised my teachers allowed the situation
to sink to that level of incompetency. But I suppose they wanted, so helplessly,
to guide me through a maze and crazy world of insanity. For an example, from
grade 10 to 11 I had subjects like maths, physical science, biology and
consumer studies. Zulu and English were my language subjects. But going into
grade 12 the line up was allowed to change, something unheard of here in South
Africa. The new list now boasted
consumer studies, life sciences, economics, maths literature and, of course, English
and Zulu. I was messed up. My subjects were messed up and my life was an
unattended pot of potiekos. In the
process, I failed grade 10.
It came as a shock to realize that school
was not my thing-I was being pushed the walls. I was anonymous at school,
absent while I was there on the premises. No one spoke to me and I spoke to no
one. I was not recognised. I wanted to pass so dearly; the passion that I could
be something in the future was always there in my heart. I wanted to be
recognized. I wanted to be the best in whatever I did. But because I possessed
a heavy dose of low-esteem and naiveté which I carried wherever I went, that
proved to be the death-knell to all my ambitions. I was deadly shy, very quite.
Now everything has changed and my learning
skills, which have now improved, have changed my life style for the better. And
my mind is alive and alert.
At school I was pathetic, afraid of my
physics teacher, a Mr. Tshabalala.
Every time when I looked at him I wanted to cry. I would cry even before
he went into his tirade of beating us, molesting us, sometimes for hours on
end. Ironically, Mr. Tsabalala was my favourite teacher. I admit I was not
intelligent, but, however, I enjoyed his teaching. I wanted to be his perfect
student. But I failed.
I did not have favourite subjects. The
subjects were all miserable. All I knew was that I wanted to be a doctor. I did
not care what doctor in which discipline. I just want to be a doctor. But to me
school was simply the wrong place to help me fulfill my dream. I was mocked and
taunted and I hated even my fellow school mates. I was so futile that even
mediocre learners used me as their yardstick. They used to taunt me, saying ‘If
she passed then I have passed too’.
And during the terrible grade 11 I started
dating. The affair, on hind sight, was a mismatch. The guy was already at tertiary and I was just
a dead woman walking, as they say. But, by the grace of the Lord, the affair
went on for six solid years. And during that time I managed to hide my
insecurities from him. To tell the truth, I don’t know how he lasted that long
with me. Maybe he truly loved me. In the end he left for Cape Town and he has
never been heard of since.
Okay, alright. Maybe you need to know this
too. I am Francina Mngomezulu and Mr Stimela’s daughter. I was born in Tsakani
in Ekurhuleni in 1989, in January. But at age three I had a new dad, a Mr.
Alfred Vuma. Both my parents are still alive and I love them to bits. But my
upbringing was chaotic and misguided. My mother was beautiful, caring and very
emotional. She was always angry and depressed and was abusive to her children.
But now there has been a dramatic change. She is all loving and supportive. On
the other hand my step father was chillingly quiet. I did not have a
relationship with him at all. All he did was to give us pocket money and buy us
Christmas clothes and groceries. That is all. But he too has had a dramatic
make-over. It is all love and hugs lately.
Last year, in 2016, I gave birth to a
lovely boy with the beautiful eyes like mine. His father has given his lobola
to my parents and while we are traditionally married, we still have to sign
some papers at home affairs. I prefer it that way, there must be a signature
somewhere on a paper. My heart pumps so hard when I think of my fiancé; I want
him to marry me quickly and immediately.
With her husband-to-be and their son |
Her parents |
With Trevor Lubisi with Kedibine Koto in the foreground |