MEMORIES OF A BROTHER: My tribute to my cousin, friend and mentor, Jabu Mabuza

Picture (from left): Jabu Mabuza, Simon Mtsuki, Mbongeni Mtsuki


One late summer morning in 2011 I was comfortably seated in the passenger seat, driving down the N4 from Pretoria to Witbank with my cousin Jabu. The dialogue was an intense discussion between a frustrated and disheartened young man (me) and this passionate and determined older fellow, whose monologue during that drive would have (one of the) greatest effects on me, both as a human being wondering this complicated journey of life and as a young entrepreneur.

Before the trip I had confided in Jabu, through a long e-mail, about the personal quandary I found myself in. I had just graduated from university with an accounting degree but during the years of my study I discovered that the accountant’s seat was not one I saw myself occupying for the remainder of every 8 hours of the rest of my life. This void was created by another passion that I stumbled upon in high school and nurtured in varsity: the love of speaking.

I personally felt that the 4 years spent at Wits had kept me from pursuing this gift, so when I finally liberated myself from the so-called shackles of the ‘EDGE’, I naively decided to dive into the deep end and try the professional speaking and writing thing out. But the deep was proving to be deeper than I thought. That decision was proving to be one of the most challenging, costliest, heart wrenching decisions of my life.

During that year I had made little over R5000 a month and was struggling to make ends meet, while my friends were raking in about R11000 +/- a month as first year trainees. I couldn’t afford to live in Johannesburg anymore and had to move back home, much to the parents dismay.

When I went to Jabu I was at the lowest point in my life. I further confided in him my personal and emotional troubles. My own mother was sick and tired of the cost of this ambition, she did not see the point of taking a child to university and then have him come back to chase fruitless dreams.

Sitting there in that passenger seat, therefore, was a Simon that was ready to surrender. The despair in my heart, coupled with the numbers in my bank account and the naysaying kin were all pointing me into that direction.

During this drive Mabuza and I were discussing this issue and during the majority of that drive, Jabu was responding to these troubles I was facing.
The following are excerpts of that discussion which I vividly remember, partly because it was loaded with so many heart-piercing truths and partly because, with his vulnerable honesty, his anecdotes, real-life observations and enthusiastic story-telling ability, Jabu brought the truth to life in a way that only he could:

"Mr. M (as he had previously christened me) I want you to know that you are not alone in this position that you are in, I personally have been in that position when I left my full-time job to start a business I was in the exact same position. In fact my situation was worse” that is how he introduced his response. He started to tell me stories of some of the sacrifices that he had made in order to pursue his dreams, the transparency with which he shared some of these stories both shocked and softened me, you cannot help but listen to a man who is being so open to you. I had never been privy to a man’s battles and sacrifices in such a manner. Such vulnerability is hardly ever expressed by men, and even if it is, it is shared by men of the same age in hidden and protected environments. But Mabuza wasn’t deterred by the 13-year age gap between us, he was going to teach me whatever it took.

He told me of one intimate story where during one of his first risky ventures, he bought into an Ecko and Zoo York franchise and things were not going well. And with a lack of assistance from the banks, a tough economic climate and a few unfortunate circumstances he had to cut his losses.

"But I didn't stop believing in the firm resolve that I would pursue my own vision," he maintained. Our conversation was taking place on the back of him recently starting his own, VJM Risk and Insurance Brokers a few months back and had scored a stable deal with the Billion Group. He was starting to find traction.

“Mr. M You are not alone, many people who dare to pursue the road less travelled have been in the same emotional and mental space that you are going through. But you cannot allow that discouragement to deter you.”

He dived into the importance of making short-term sacrifices for long-term benefits, repeatedly emphasizing the point that I "must be willing to get burnt" in order to benefit in the long-term. "Mr. M the dream that you have will never leave you and in order for you to achieve it, you must pay the costs. It's either you pay them now or pay later...BUT YOU MUST PAY THE COST. It's better for you to pay the cost now, without the responsibility of marriage, kids, a bond and other expenses because when those responsibilities come, the likelihood of you taking the risk is remote. And even if you do, the responsibilities you have will compound the burden."

About my parent's concern and insistence that I join the corporate world, Jabu was equally unrelenting. "Mr. M. yekela labomagogo abazi understandi lezinto" (Mr. M, don't be deterred by your mother's concern, she doesn't understand this path you are taking).

He assured me that sometimes people do not understand how important your vision is to you and they never value your path until you actually start gaining traction in your strides. He went on to plant an idea, “Abantu angeke bakunike irespect until bakubona sowukhuluma overseas or on TV" (People won't start respecting your dream until you start gaining traction, speaking on international conferences and on television). He was right; people rarely have an appreciation of someone's path until they see you making major progress.

That conversation is one of the most memorable inspirational sermons I have ever heard, it is probably no coincidence that it lasted the whole 1 hour trip from Pretoria to Johannesburg. Over the years the relationship, brotherhood and advice that Jabu gave me over the years added to this.

I would sleep over his house during weekends and we would have these intense and analytical conversations that lasted into the a.m's. Over the course of that period until his death, I would make it a point to see him at least once a month. I remember my mother once complaining, “Why uthanda ukuvakasha kaJabu so? Ngelinye ilanga uPhumeza uzoku xosha emzini wakhe (Why do you like over-staying your welcome at Jabu’s house? One day Phumeza (his wife) will throw you out for visiting so much). Little did she know that he was the necessary agent provocateur to my rebellion and with every encounter he left me with that little extra drive needed to take the next step.

I would speak to him over the phone for at least once a week. And those conversations, too, would last for about an hour or more. Jabu probably holds the record for the person who I called the most and I am not sure, but I think he holds the record for the longest cellphone calls I received. His calls lasted so long that he would call me, the network would disturb and he would call me back and the battery would die and he would call me right back after battery was charged.

The main reason for the lengthy dialogues was the anecdotes, experiences and observations, he would insert in order to liven-up and drive his points. He would explain them in such graphic detail that he would sometimes veer off the original track of the conversation and he would need to re-steer his story back to the original point, which he always felt the need to complete. Anybody who knows Jabu Mabuza knows that the conversation is not over until Jabu Mabuza makes his point.

The conversations evolved, they ranged from our month to month life and business experiences and our lessons from them to politics and current affairs and family.

Even as business began to pick up and I began to find my feet, Mabuza (as I called him) would continue to give me vital advice about the importance of growth and the responsibilities therein: keeping a healthy cash-flow, maintaining relationships with current clients while pursuing new business and the power of social capital were some of the ones we engaged on recently.

It was 14:03 Thursday (22 January 2015) when I received the call of his passing. I was sitting at Guru Coffee Shop in Parktown North preparing for a meeting. My cousin Tony’s name appeared on the called I.D. I answered the phone with a burst of excitement, asking him “Zkhiphani” (township lingo for “what’s up”). Little did I know that the burst of excitement with which I answered the phone would suffer an icy bucket of shattering news. When I put the phone down everyone else in the coffee shop continued their lives as if it was a normal day. The lady in front of me was looking intensely at her laptop, the guys on my right were deep in a meeting and the waiter behind me were serving their coffee their like they usually do.

I remember being confused a bit, literally not knowing what’s going on, for a second or two my mind couldn’t fathom why everyone was carrying on as if nothing had happened. “How could they just continue? Don’t they know what just happened? Are these people that insensitive?” It took me another second to realize what had just happened, that I was the only for whom the clouds had gathered.

I called my mother to tell her the tragic news, she responded that she had found out an hour ago but didn’t know how she was going to tell me. I understood.

It took me another second to decide that I had to drive back to my hometown to Witbank, I packed my laptop and diary and notebook into my backpack, hurried to the car and closed the door. And as I paused to put the key into the ignition, I remembered that I had just spoken to him on Saturday, asking me where I was. I was at the Neighbourgoods Market in Braamfontein and couldn’t talk long, we agreed that we would make a date to see each other soon. When I thought of that last phone call a flurry of uninvited tears started rolling down my face.
Over the course of the week those uninvited tears would return so many times, sometimes when I was amongst his friends but more when I was alone in my room or driving.

On the Wednesday before his funeral the tears stopped rolling and now I am left with the agony of knowing that he will not come back, he will never call again and we will never have those intense long night conversations ever again.

I…We have lost a brother, a friend an advisor and mentor.

On the 15th of December 2014 at around 1am, I was out at one of those December parties with a friend of mine, Neo. My partying was interrupted by the thought of Jabu and I felt like I wanted to thank him for his love and support during the years. I pulled out my blackberry and started typing an e-mail, “Eh Mabuza maan

I've been thinking about you this morning, for some reason. I'm actually at a club partying and I just thought about you.

I was just thinking about back in those days when I was struggling and you would just give me this crisp and sobering advice. In the worst of times I would just think of that advice, and think, ‘Noh maan, I have to stick it out...this will make sense in the end’

I just wanted to thank you for that advice and the investment in time and energy, it meant so much man.

I also wanted to tell you, for what it's worth, that I believe in you as a man, as a mentor, an advisor, and businessman.

There is a reason why I need to call you every other week, your advice and wisdom is sobering and helps.

Anyway...I just had to let you know. Forwards ever backwards never Mabuza.”

Part of the reason I stopped being so emotional this week is because I know that I let him know how much he means to me. I also had to force myself to realize that I should stop weeping over the loss but instead thank God for the wonderful opportunity he gave me to be acquainted, to learn, to draw and be empowered by this wonderful human being.

Indeed he is gone, but I would be lying if I said he has not left me with an abundance of lessons and experiences that would last me a lifetime.

Death may have unexpectedly taken Jabu away from us, but Jabu is still fully alive in world of my mind.

Rest In Peace Mabuza, We will never forget you!!!

-Mr. M

Teachers: Nurturers of Greatness

Last weekend a corporate client hosted teachers from previously disadvantaged school for a strategy workshop at their Sandton offices. They asked me to deliver an inspirational talk to open the workshop. This is an excerpt of my talk:

“That relationship with Mrs Maritz-Smit is probably one of the best relationships I have had.

In my life I believe that God has placed certain people who were guides. You know when you are on your way to an unknown destination and the not-so-reliable GPS has lost its’ signal, leaving you to your own equally unreliable devices and unclear directions from a person who assumes that you are familiar with their home town as they are. And then you bump into someone who comes to your rescue by giving you clear directions to your next turn, not the best, but clear enough to find yourself in the vicinity you need to be.

This is what some of these teachers have been to me.

The reason I am telling you this is because I want you to understand what you are doing, I felt I needed to remind you why your work is so important.
There are teachers that have spoken into my life, that have inspired me, that believed in me when no-one else did.

Teachers like Mrs. Maritz-Smit who believed I had leadership potential, back when all my other teachers unanimously agreed that I needed to be taken to a psychologist or needed to be kicked out of the school. She recognized this potential and showed a belief in me that I did not see in myself.

When I was about to get kicked out of Liberty Christian College there was another teacher Mrs. Buitendach who always believed that I was just a kid with too much energy. She always told me, "You just have too much energy but I believe in you, you just need to find a way to redirect this energy." I still remember the passionate expressions on her face.

When I was in Grade 9, I turned into a maths head, it was because of Mrs Ntilane. Before her mentoring I was a 40%-50% student, never really considered myself the ultimate mathematician. Until Mrs. Ntilane introduced us to Maths in the form of principles, she always to said us, “you must remember the principle. If you can remember the principle you can always navigate from the most complicated sum right down to the answer. REMEMBER THE PRINCIPLE!!!” I remember dramatically improving my maths marks. My friend Blessing and I would compete in class maths, if he got 98% for a test, I got 96%, or I would get 98% and he would get 96%. That fierce competition ignited my passion for mathematic, and it would carry me right through high school math, right through university until I received my degree. When I arrived in varsity I cruised through mathematical subjects, like computational maths, statistics and the like.

When I was in Grade 10, after my expulsion from Liberty Christian College, the English teacher at my new school, Mrs. Mocke, suggested I join this local speech competition, my first ever speech competition. She coached me and showed me the ropes and I received 2nd place in that speech competition. It was this competition that ignited my love for speaking.

I am telling you all these stories because I really believe that these teachers were placed in my path to help light up my path. God knows where I would’ve been ended up if I didn’t appreciate that I had leadership capacity and potential. I don’t know where I would be if Mrs. Buitendach didn’t recognise my excessive energy and the importance of channelling it in the right direction, or if Mrs. Ntilane didn’t teach me the importance of the principle. Or if Mrs. Mocke didn’t channel me towards my gifting. Today I am a motivational speaker and it is because of that first ever speech competition that Mrs. Mocke prodded me to participate in.

All these teachers that I have mentioned have had a tremendous enduring impact in my life. So many activities that I am involved in currently can be traced back to the investment that a teacher made some years back.
It was so negligible back then, but so significant right now.

This is why I really think, teachers are nurturers of greatness.”

Don’t be afraid to get LOST!!!

One of the things that I like about Johannesburg is the pleasant driving experience at night. I like the drive from Sandton through Rosebank to Braamfontein, with no traffic and my windows down, blasting some of my favourite soulful house tunes. You have to appreciate the good 'non-Malawian' road infrastructure it has, the different channels and routes that you can use to reach a certain destination.
I love finding new routes, just recently a friend exposed me to a route from our place in Northcliff to Sandton that helps you avoid peak hour traffic using Milner Road, turning a few corners, slipping onto Conrad, enduring a bit of traffic on Jan Smuts and William Nicol, quickly disappearing into Sandhurst only to emerge onto Rivonia in Sandton.
My traffic avoidance schemes are magical I tell you, it takes me no longer than 20-25 minutes to get to Sandton even in peak-hour traffic.

How did I learn this? Well, because I’m generally not afraid of the inconvenience of getting lost, in fact I enjoy getting lost.
The trick about finding new routes is one must be willing to attempt those new routes, you know that turn that you've always wondered to yourself, "...where does this road lead to?" But you were in too much of a hurry to take it or you thought “Who wants to waste a few litres of petrol trying to get out of a situation when they can just avoid the situation by using the route they’ve always known.”

I haven't always known my new Northcliff-Sandton route, I always used the traditional route from my place to Rosebank using 7th and then joining Oxford Road, using Bompas or that other road by the Hyatt Hotel. But there’s something about peak-hour traffic that gets the mind thinking, “there has to be another faster way to do this?”
I had to get lost at least 3 times in Sandhurst. Who wouldn’t get lost in Sandhurst with the allure of those imposing mini-castles? I'm sure neighbourhood watch had already marked my vehicle as “a suspicious silver vehicle with MP number plates, driver driving around with eyes wide open and jaw to the floor”.
But those experiences of getting lost, using my mental compass to get me out of the situations helped me discover a totally new and time-saving route.

Getting lost is not all that appealing, I remember getting into a fight with my ex-girlfriend because I tried a new route and she needed to get home quickly because she needed the loo. She got so irritated with me that I had to surrender to the emasculating GPS to help me get home, bearing in mind that I was in fact 2 minutes away from home.
But trying new routes and getting lost is the only way to learn new and faster and better ways to learn a city. Nothing lets you experience Johannesburg as pleasantly as learning ways to evade potential road blocks on a Friday night, or avoiding traffic while running late for a business meeting.

Building a business, professional life, or relationship requires similar boldness. One needs to have the confidence to take the risk and learn new ways of doing things, whether they are new systems, methods or tricks that may not fall into the conventional way of doing things.
I know that sometimes our creativity is threatened or culled by so-called established best practice, and the stoic preachers of the we've-always-done-it-this-way gospel. But what I find in my experience is that many 21st century companies welcome and encourage innovative ideas from their employees or service providers.
If they don't then it is up to us to refine our ideas and present them in such a way that they at least warrant an interest from our management (or client), show them the benefit of your new method or proposition. I find that people always follow the benefit.

But one has to try.

The result could be either one of 2 things:
1) You fail; your new experiment or attempt is deemed an absolute failure and a waste of money. And the previous way is the best. The old tried and tested. "Stop trying to be too ambitious and smart" they will say, "This is the way we have always done it."
At which you will sheepishly shuffle to your desk and follow convention.

Have you lost anything? Maybe a bit of pride, maybe your peers and colleagues mocking your failed attempt but at least you gain knowledge of what doesn't work and the bold knowledge that you’re not a blind follower of convention.

2) The second possibility is that you could, with a little resilience and persistence, find a new/faster/better/cost-effective way of doing things. Which scores you cost-cutting, profit-boosting, boss-impressing results. Hey this could lead to a new contract or moving a step-up the corporate ladder.
Above all else it makes you a bit of a pioneer.

All of this starts with a desire to attempt something and ignoring the fear of getting lost.

So the next time you feel the urge to do something a different don't ignore it, don't fear it, try it out. If it succeeds make sure you send me a pleasant comment and share this post with a couple of friends.

If it doesn't work then....You know what? JUST TRY IT OUT!!!

Dont eat the marshmallow...YET!!!

If you were ever to meet anybody who knows me quite well and asked them, "What is one thing that Simon absolutely loathes?" They'll probably tell you, “People that drive 10km/h in the fast lane on the freeway.” I would stand naked outside the constitutional court in protest for the electric chair to be restored, just for these people.
However, one thing that I hate more than that is people who don’t understand the importance of long-term growth, people who want the rewards NOW! Maybe it's because of all the bitterness I harbour from this one girl who discontinued our relationship 3 years ago, apparently my “dream was taking too long to get off the ground.”


You will appreciate my feeling of vindication, therefore, when I came across a study by Professor Walter Mischel:
In 1960, Mischel, then a professor at the Stanford University pioneered research that looked into the effects that delayed gratification had on the possible success of a person.

He started the research with 600, 4, 5 and 6 year olds and gave them the option of receiving one marshmallow now, or 2 marshmallows later.
So he would take the 4 year old into a 1m-by-1m room and explain to them, “Julius we are going to give you a couple of options, we will give you one marshmallow now. If you want you can eat the marshmallow now, but if you wait and do not eat the marshmallow we will award you with 2 more marshmallows when I return in 15 minutes.” The child had to choose between 1 marshmallow now or 2 marshmallows in 15 minutes.

I have seen more modern examples of the experiment and they are the funniest thing ever. You can imagine the terror of closing a 4 or 5 year old into a room and standing eye-to-eye with a marshmallow. Torture I tell you.
In some cases you would see the child caressing the marshmallow like a pet, others would take the marshmallow and smell it and lick it. Another took nibbles of the marshmallow but didn’t finish it.
Others just simply put it in their mouth straight away, no nibbling no smelling just gobbled it up straight away, didn’t even feel remorseful.
In the end, 2 thirds of the children ate their marshmallows, it turns out 15 minutes is a long time to wait for another marshmallow.
The other 1 third didn’t eat it and waited for the 2nd marshmallow.

They tracked the children over a period of 10 years and more. And they found that the kids who did not eat the marshmallow in the 15 minutes, i.e. that delayed their gratification for that 15 minutes were less likely to have weight problems and were less likely to engage in drug abuse. They found that the one third tended to have better life outcomes measured by body mass index, SAT scores, and educational attainment.

(For more information on this experiment search for the Marshmallow experiment)

The wonderful thing about this experiment is that it proves that people, who are willing to postpone their gratification, are more likely to be successful in life.
I think it is a rare and worthwhile personality trait to have (or habit to develop) for all young leaders. Whether an aspiring entrepreneur, social entrepreneur, political leader, social leader or professional if you want to have a lasting impact in your field, to impact people and to have sustainable profits you have to exhibit an ability to delay some gratification.
The ability to say, "I want the success now, but I will wait, I will invest, I will nurture, I will sacrifice, so that the future is much better."

I am suspicious of people who love instant gratification and I try to avoid them at all cost. Because they are sensationalist freaks that make you second guess your practical long-term approach to life.
They make you feel bad for building firm foundations.

To all my fellow young leaders I would like to say, "Don't be tempted into seeking instant pleasure, its’ delight is fleeting. Choose instead long lasting success. It may be slow, but the rewards for you, your family, your business, partners, employees and community persists longer and is much more rewarding."


-Simon Mtsuki

Lesson from a 5 year old

So I'm chilling with my 5year old nephew whose mother (my cousin) passed away last year.
The curious man in me decides to investigate how kids process death. So I ask him, "Do you miss mommy?"

He looks at me and replies, "I do but not much, the last time I saw her was when I slept. She visits me in my dreams"

Some hectic revelation, I was stunned.

I think this highlighted something about the spirit world.
I don't mean to start a theological debate about this but I think there's a lesson here.

I think when there's a physical loss in your life, whether it be a loss of a loved one, or even loss of something you treasure like a job or a relationship ends...the spirit world, immediately makes provision for that.
No actually, I think God has already made provision even before it happens because He knows before it happens.

Kids are able to better adjust against loss because they are younger and their senses are not as developed. Adults take longer to adjust because they are older, they KNOW more, they know they have lost a loved one and so they take longer to appreciate God's provision.

Kids on the other hand LIVE...as a matter of fact they don't understand how much they've lost until they grow older, until they understand 'life' more.

But this encounter with my nephew has just taught me to appreciate God's pre-provision for our loss.

It has just taught me that no matter how much I lose, God has already made provision for me. Provision to comfort me, to fill me, to supply for me both emotionally, spiritually and physically.

I don't know if this makes sense.

Anyway, let me get back to work.

-SGM

The coward that saved a lady

So I've just driven out of Wits Business School approaching the St. Andrews fourway, with the Engen garage and the Nandos on my left and that building with the FNB atm's on my right.

The robot is red, it’s a cool January summer evening around 8pm, my windows are all down, I am listening to some music, kasi boy-style, when I hear what originally sounded like women laughing at the top of their voices, you know like kasi women do. But it was a bit unusual for kasi women to be around these regions at this time. I ignore this kasi behaviour, I listen to my house music, House Afrika Sessions 4, Aziwe baba.

The laughing now sounds like screaming, I turn down the volume and it is screaming all right. It pierces through the Jozi darkness and the loudness of my speakers, it scares me a bit. I press pause and I realize it is coming from a woman running up St. Andrews, she is screaming for help.

The robot is still red.

Eventually my eyes locate the screaming lady but I am trying to make sense of her screams, which are harder to make out because she is screaming, crying, running and battling to find her breath.
The seriousness of the situation is exacerbated when a white corsa bakkie pulls up in the middle of the road (towards oncoming traffic), right next to the lady who is running on the pavement.

A pretty buff late thirties fellow who looks to be irritated by the woman's screams, angrily comes out of the car, grabs the lady by her arms, pulls her, around the back, opens the passenger door and shoves her, violently into the car.

I now can fully make sense of the woman’s screams, "Hayi, ndiyeke, andisakufuni...Ndincedeni, ndincedeni...Hayi ndiyeke, ndiyeke andisakufuni" (Leave me, leave me I do not wannt to be with you anymore, SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!)
My robot turns green, I have to do something, I don't know what it is...but it I have to do something.

JESUS TAKE CONTROL!!!

This scene is happening right on the lane I am supposed to turn into, I decide to drive straight towards his car, so that we stand bonnet-to-bonnet. I stop and open the door, he has just shut the door of the passenger side, where he had just forced his unwilling passenger into. But when he arrived to get into his driver side to drive off, my silver Kia was carefully standing nose-to-nose with his car.

As you can imagine there is a bit of traffic now, I am now stuck, with one foot outside and another inside the car.
I'm in a predicament, a quagmire.
There is a traffic jam which I am indirectly part of, there is also a woman who is in desperate need of saving, and there is also the possibility that this abusive little king-kong could drive into my car...never mind the fact that I am making him angry by standing right in his way.
The other problem is I am also trying to consider my own safety here, the fellow is buff and he is angry…he may also be a pirates fan…the perfect combination to totally flatten me.

JESUS TAKE CONTROL!!!

The traffic jam continues, the screaming lady opens the door which she just got shoved into, trying to escape, she doesn't know whether to run east or west. There is traffic remember, she is panicking, confused…I am confused.

There is a fellow in a car on my right, who arrived just after me, he is still in his car...he is asking, "Kanti kwenzakalani manje lana" (what is happening here) in the comfort of his car. I was desperately hoping that some of the people in the other cars would come out of their cars, this would give me that little needed confidence to fully attend the situation.
There are about 6 or 7 cars in this traffic jam, I am the only one who is outside of his car to help this lady...well half-out at least.

The villain, who is now also in a quagmire had just opened the door of his car but his victim ran out. His attention is now divided, between the obvious attention he has now drawn and his victim whose directionless running and screams are causing even more attention: The challenges of an abuser!

The lady in all her directionless running finds direction towards my car, she runs towards me, and latches onto the handle of my right rear passenger door, it opens, she slips in, she urges me to drive, the fellow who is comfrotably in his Corolla on my right also urges me to drive.

This makes 2, I was a bit reluctant, but my black superga's found their way to the accelerator, I drive, as fast as I can, I look behind me, I don't see a white corsa bakkie.
I skip the red robot on Jan Smuts, causing a near accident, I turn left to catch the freeway, the M1 from Jan Smuts...but I dubiously off-ramp on Empire, I skip the red robot on Empire (nearly causing another accident) and turn left towards Wits University.

The lady I have just rescued, desperately wants me to go to a place of safety, a police station but I am reluctant, the king-kong saw my car and no doubt will be driving around that area looking for me and his victim. I decided rather to go into Wits University because I still have my Alumni card. I slip through the the security boom gate, and park my car opposite the planetarium...which gives me a good view of the boomgate, just in case the fellow decides to do something unsmart.

I turn the car off and talk to the lady in the backseat of my car whose face I had not even seen properly, I was too busy trying to make sure we escaped unseen by the possible blood-thirsty boyfriend.
I turn on the lamp to look at her, she is shaking and crying...she examines the bruises from her right hand right up to her arm and does the same on her left. She has been man-handled alright, the emotional pain and fear is visible in her eyes. Judging from the blood on her left-side of the collar of her nurse's uniform she would have suffered a lot more physical pain had there not been some intervention.
I inquired about this man and why he would want to do this to her. Why he would want to harm her so.
She tells me that this man is the father of her child, she ended the relationship after a couple of abusive stints, he is possessive and abusive.
Needless to say, this fellow refuses to accept that it is over...he absolutely refuses and would rather beat this lady into submission.

As we waited for her friends to pick her up, she told me how she was fed up, she wanted out but this man, this monster just wouldn't let her go...he just didn't understand.

When her friends arrived and thanked me for helping her out, they also happened to mention that this man was a medical doctor..."A whole doctor..." the friend said with evident disbelief, “A whole doctor!” as if a medical degree precludes people from being abusive.

I do not think of myself as much of a hero, as a matter of fact, as much as I had an urge to do something, I also thought, judging from the man's build that I was better of not confronting the man physically. My parking right in front of him was a way in which to cause some commotion that would, by some chance, cause a situation for other people to help or cause such a scene that he would have to back down. I tried to speedily weigh my options, the last of which was a physical fight with this monster.

I also need to be honest: I have never entertained or taken part in a “Women Abuse” forum. I remember flipping through a Big Debate forum on eNCA, I tuned the decoder to 403 but when I realized that it was about women abuse I turned it off, I just wasn't interested in engaging in these matters.
Partially because the debates were very unappealing to me, as opposed to Economic Freedom for instance, or the quality of leadership.
Partially because the issue has never really happened close to home and because I've always believed that instances where women get abused are not the same, they cannot be all put under one umbrella. When people talk about these issues they never really talk about other abuses such as they manner in which women abuse men, either emotionally and sometimes even physically and get away with it because they are women.
So our debates, I felt, were not truly representative of the full picture and were thus bound to attract dissociation from one part of society.

My experience on that Monday evening has kind of altered my view on this issue. More directly it has focused my attention on what I can do as a man to ensure that we take control of ourselves and our actions regardless of what the female species does to us.
What I saw on that Monday evening was a man who, with pure disregard of his surroundings, forcefully shoving a women into his car and from the blood on her collar there was obviously more things done to her that I didn’t see.
Of course I don't know the circumstances around that incident. This lady probably 'chowed' this man's money and left him dry. She probably entertained other men at his expense...and maybe even done worse.
I know that the law does not protect men from such abuse, neither does it provide corrective justice, I don't know how to solve this issue.

What I do know, however is that we cannot grow up and raise our sons and daughters in environments where women get abused and men standby and let it happen.

In this environment cowardice and excuses cannot be tolerated either. The funny thing about the situation is the other motorists did arrive and simply observed what was going on like the guy in the Corrolla right next to me, who shouted out questions from the comfort of his car.
The other guy was a white man, who obviously did not want to involve himself, he just slowed down and waited for the jam to die down.

The question I ask myself today is, "What if it was your daughter that was getting manhandled by a monstrous ex-boyfriend in the middle of St. Andrews? How aggressive would you be? How confrontational would you be?"
The issue of self-preservation in the face of blatant injustice is one of the most destructive in any nation. When people would rather keep quiet in order to save themselves has more costs than benefits.

It turns out that the fellow had a gun in the car and in all likelihood he would've killed me. Knowing me, I would've died by heart attack just by seeing the gun.

When I look at it now, maybe I could've died, I was a bit afraid of getting injured, which is probably why I didn't immediately charge.

But what I can say, is that I cannot let somebody else's daughter be abused and even possibly die solely because she is of no relation to me. That's just pure selfishness on my side.

I think every society and generation has the ability within it to create a new 'normal', i.e. a state of affairs that is the norm in that country. Poverty cannot be our normal, joblessness cannot be our normal, neither should corruption...neither should other people's daughter be abused in our midst while we watch on. I think watching as this happens is (tacit) consent.

(After the incident the lady through her friend called me and thanked me dearly, she had just come from the police station and is allegedly pursuing a restraining order. They also asked me if there is any gift I would like, or any thing that they could do for me, just to thank me...I replied, 'No!' Not to project false humility, but that act was not an act of bravery. Just an act of good driving, luck and the sheer fortune of my alumni card coming in handy and Wits being close by.)

-SGM

Doubting Thomas's

On the road to success there are people who appoint themselves as ‘officers of doom’. These are the people who stand on the side of the road, pull people over and tell them why their dreams will not come true, why they won't arrive at their destiny, why their business model won't work and why their proposed project plan won't succeed.

Sometimes they are family members, sometimes they are trusted friends, sometimes it is even the prospect themselves.
Personally, I have experienced all of these scenarios. I have experienced them so much that I have gotten to the point that I really believe that some people are delusional about their prophetic abilities. I mean, some people will cling to their 'Doubting-Thomas' status even when they can see that you are proving them wrong.

I find the human spirit such a stubborn gift, I call it 'spirit' because I really do believe that what we have in us is a super-natural being, that dares to believe even when the odds are stacked against it. I think it was the human spirit that lead people like the Jennifer Hudsons of this world, to rise above criticisms at the highest levels. It is the human spirit that spurred people like Tiger woods back to world number one, after he had fallen so high from grace. And it may even be that this is the same resilient spirit that got people like Nomzamo Mbatha (the lover of my soul, the one who warms the cockles of my heart) to rise to such stardom after losing the MTV Base VJ search.

The human spirit is funny, every time you tell someone that they will not do it, even though the mind, surroundings, statistics and current situation of the person may agree with you. The laws of logic, mathematics and economics may very well agree with you but if the law of the human spirit doesn't agree with you, then you've got another thing coming.

This spirit refuses to let Doubting Thomas's have the final say on peoples' dreams. It refuses to let naysayers have the final word, or the professional pessimists have the last laugh.

So I have a word of strategic advice that Sun Tzu neglected to put in his military strategy manual, 'The Art of War', if you really want an adversary to fail, or a foe to fluster...please, for God-sake, do not add fuel to his fire by telling him he won't make it, you are just causing trouble for yourself.
-SGM