Читать книгу The Book of ProVerb - Tebogo Thekisho - Страница 8

Inspiration ages like wine

turns the pages of time.

Birthed in the soul, raised in the mind

nurtured in the spirit just waiting to be defined.

On 12 April 1981, my dad, whom I lovingly call Pa, was notified that my mom was in labour. He was studying medicine at Medunsa (now the Sefako Makgatho Health Sciences University), and drove all the way from the campus in Pretoria, Gauteng to Kimberley Day Hospital in the Northern Cape. He hoped to make it in time for my birth, but it was quite a distance. He only arrived the day after, which also happened to be his birthday, and he had to drive back that same day.

When he walked into the ward to meet my newborn self, my mother handed me over like a gift and said, ‘Happy birthday.’ Pa beamed with joy. They named me Tebogo Sidney Thapelo Thekisho. My middle name, Sidney, was given to me by my father, after his best friend Sidney Kolwane from Ratau in the North West, whom I believe passed away shortly before I was born. To this day, Pa and I have a tradition of celebrating our birthdays together whenever possible, and if we can’t be together, we have to call each other.

My parents – Dr Tsatsi David Thekisho and Dr Nomonde Geraldine Phetlho – met in 1979 as students at the University of the North. My mom was doing her final year in social work, and my dad was a first-year BSc student. They started off as friends and spent all their free time together on campus. After a few weeks they officially became an item and married the following year, when my mom was working at her first job, in Kuruman in the Northern Cape. My dad was a second-year medical student at Medunsa by then. Because my mom had just started her career and my dad was still a student when I was born, they agreed that my maternal grandmother would raise me.

After he graduated, Pa set up his doctor’s practice in Thaba ’Nchu, a good sixty kilometres outside Bloemfontein in the Free State. When I was little, he drove from Thaba ’Nchu to Kimberley to celebrate my birthday with me as often as he could. He always asked me what present I wanted, which I thought was very special. That was our tradition. Once, he even pitched up at my school and gave the teacher an excuse so that I could leave class early. He took me to Spur, which was the best restaurant in my small town at the time.

One year I asked for a bicycle. Pa bought it for me, but it would not fit into the boot of his car, no matter how we manoeuvred it. To solve the problem, Pa asked me to ride the bicycle from the store in town to my grandmother’s home in the township. Along the way, he alternated between driving behind and in front of me to ensure that I was safe and could not be knocked by other motorists. At one particular intersection, he pulled over, got out and shouted, ‘Keep going, my boy, keep going!’ I will never forget that.

My favourite memory of my dad is him taking me on a road trip to Cape Town during the school holidays, when I was still a laaitie in primary school. Also on that trip were two youngsters whom I would later learn were my half-brothers – my father’s children from previous relationships. So that is how I met Mpho, whom I call Mapoza, and our older half-brother Thabo. Sadly, Thabo has since passed on, and even though we weren’t close, I often think of the awesome holiday we spent together.

Pa had told me about this holiday months in advance, and man, I couldn’t wait. I was counting down the days! Every time my friends came to visit me at my grandmother’s house, I would show them what I had packed for the trip. That holiday was the beginning of a great brotherhood and friendship between me and Mapoza, which was facilitated by our father. Thabo was much older than me, but Mapoza and I were closer in age. I consider him to not only be my friend, but my true brother.

Back then, holidays were a foreign concept to me, but I am sure that’s where the travel bug bit. I have fond memories of that trip and cherish the many photos we took. Pa even tried to teach me how to swim, which was an epic and terrifying fail, because I nearly drowned! Thank God I eventually became a good swimmer.

We took many more trips after that one, most of which were unplanned, because Pa loves to live in the moment. Once, in Bloemfontein, Mapoza and I were sitting in the back of my dad’s car when he turned to us and randomly suggested that we go somewhere. ‘Durban or Cape Town?’ he asked.

Mapoza and I were confused and surprised, but we immediately cried, ‘Cape Town!’

‘Cool!’ said Pa, and the very next day we were off to Cape Town.

My dad grew up in Thaba ’Nchu, and his journey to becoming a doctor was fraught with challenges, as his family did not have the means to fund his education. His father wanted him to become a teacher instead – a cheaper and less time-consuming course – but Pa’s eyes were fixed on medicine. As a result, he had to work while studying to make ends meet. Some of the jobs included being a chef, a bus driver and a waiter; that man was determined. He went on to become a successful doctor, and runs his own practice in his hometown. Part of the reason he studied medicine was not only to empower himself, but also his extended family, many of whom he employs in his practice.

Pa has a generous heart, and he didn’t support only his own children financially. He put a lot of my cousins, uncles, aunts, nephews and nieces through university or college. I’m constantly in awe of the incredible impact he has had on our family and our community at large. In 2019, we threw him a seventieth birthday party, and everyone was brought to tears when we took turns to speak about what he had done for all of us.

What touches me the most is that whenever I meet some of my relatives, even the ones I barely know, they usually have a story about how Pa has been involved in their lives, from putting them through school to being there for them in their personal lives. If I could be half as impactful in my lifetime as my dad continues to be, I would be very proud of myself.

My dad’s philanthropy is so well known that he has a street named after him. Dr Thekisho Street – on which he lives – is named thus to honour the great work he has done for his community, and stands testament to how much he has poured into the lives of others. It’s an honour one does not take lightly. I have so much to live up to, and I, too, want to be remembered as someone who helped uplift others. That’s why I am drawn to the kind of TV shows I work on: they all focus on empowerment. Even though being an entertainer is one of my passions, I always have to ask myself the following questions before taking on a project: Who else does this benefit? Am I just looking after myself if I take this job? Will I one day be able to look back and see others whose careers I contributed to in some small way?’

Idols SA aims to provide vocally talented young people between the ages of sixteen and thirty with an opportunity to start their singing career in the music industry. I also used to host a show on SABC 3 called The Mic, where I would profile up-and-coming musicians while providing them with a platform to gain more exposure in the music world. This is something I am naturally drawn to because, like my father, I have an innate desire to not only empower myself, but as many other people as I can.

Lewis Howes, a bestselling American author, entrepreneur and former sportsman, once said, ‘Success is not measured in the amount of dollars you make, but the amount of lives you impact.’ This really left a mark on me. I mean, if your dreams don’t involve taking others with you, are they even dreams?

My dad is a model father, and I really look up to him. Despite his busy schedule, he always prioritises his family. He lives all the way in Thaba ’Nchu, while we are all up here in Joburg, but if I call him about matters that require his urgent attention, he will drop everything and arrive within two hours, never mind the usual four it takes to get here from the Free State! As a father, I aspire to be just like him.

The biggest lesson I’ve learnt from him is to not plan too much, but to live your life. ‘Always have an end goal in mind, but remain flexible,’ he often says. He encourages us not to limit ourselves in how we try to reach our goals, because life often throws curve balls. Through him I have learnt to always be open to change and adjust accordingly, because if my plans are too rigid, I am bound to fail. One can’t dictate to life how things should be.

All in all, one must remain positive and try to grow into the person one envisions. That’s the gist of a lot of our conversations. I am highly driven and accustomed to being in control, so I am learning to loosen up and trust the process of life. I write down my goals and always have a desired outcome for pretty much everything I do, just to stay in check.

I continue to take notes from Pa, as life has consistently shown me that you can plan all you like, but it will never stick to the path you envisioned. The key is to remain fluid, and I am always open to adjusting and tweaking my goals as I go along. I often erase or rework some of them, but I never lose sight of the end goal. The result must always be concrete.

My dad played a huge role in my life and did all he could, despite the circumstances in which I grew up. I didn’t live with him as a child, but I never felt like he was absent in any way. He always showed up for me and made sure I felt his presence at all times. When I was in Standard 7 (now Grade 9) and studying at St Patrick’s Christian Brothers’ College (CBC) in Kimberley, some of my teachers were encouraging me to drop out of maths, as my marks were bad and they didn’t have much faith that I would pass the year. Pa drove all the way from Thaba ’Nchu to my school to challenge the teachers’ recommendation. (I passed, but barely.) I really appreciate how Pa has always been very hands-on in my life. His immense belief in me always gives me hope, and I thank him for it.

Now that I’m a grown-up, he visits me a lot more than I visit him. We relate on many levels, and enjoy discussing our aspirations and goals, along with life in general. He is my confidant and voice of reason. His support has carried me through many of my challenges and heartaches. I believe our bond deepened even further when I went through tough times, because he could relate to a lot of what I was going through. He and my brother Mapoza are the first people I call when I have news, whether good or bad – they are always there for me.

Pa never says no to me without a good reason. I love how he entertains my crazy ideas, yet steers me away from making the wrong decisions, while also affording me a chance to express my point of view. He is a fair man and gives me the space to fully be who I am. My choices may differ completely from his viewpoint, but he always considers my perspective and stands aside when he is called to do so. Or takes charge of a situation if that’s what’s required.

The fact that he is able to play all those roles inspires me to be the same way with my children. I enjoy hosting him and his friends at my house, and we usually have a party where we laugh our hearts out with joy. We also challenge each other’s strongly opposing views on politics, but we do so respectfully in healthy, meaningful debates. I find my relationship with him so rewarding. I consider my father to be a friend, as well as a spiritual and life coach when I need one.

Pa has always encouraged my brother and me, as well as our immediate family, to make our own decisions in life. In 2019 I found myself at a crossroads when my children, who had been living with me, were possibly going to move in with their mom the next year. My dad managed his position on this issue delicately, and I use the word ‘managed’ deliberately: he was careful not to force his opinion on me. I fought fiercely for my children to remain with me but eventually realised that the tug of war between me and their mother was putting a strain on them. I therefore made a decision I felt would benefit them the most and agreed that they would live with my ex-wife. My dad, on the other hand, felt that they should not move, but he deliberately took a step back and did not try to take a lead in deciding the outcome.

I appreciate that Pa understood that he was not a key player or decision- maker in that particular situation. A few years ago, when I was on the verge of getting divorced, he also gave me the space to make my own choices, even though, again, his view differed from mine.

Every time I say to him, ‘Pops, I am feeling so stressed. I’m thinking of booking a flight and going somewhere just to relax,’ his response will be, ‘Tell me what needs to happen with your children, my boy. Who’s gonna be staying at your place to take care of them while you’re away? Once that’s sorted out, just go!’ Despite his encouragement in this regard, however, he is not necessarily a yes man; he will say outright, ‘No, you are wrong – don’t do that’ if he feels I am out of line. I don’t think I have quite figured life out the way he has, although he will probably argue otherwise.

Pa is now in his seventies and still doing the work he loves. He has a good relationship with all his children, a fun social life, and friends who like him so much that they always argue about where he should stay when he comes for a visit. At times he battles with his work–life balance, but other than that, I definitely aspire to be like him.

We tend to model our lives on what inspires us. Whenever he visits me, I play some of the songs he used to play when I was growing up. They are so cemented in my brain that I modelled my entire adulthood on them. He often played Toto’s ‘Africa’ in his white BMW, and I would say, ‘When I am big like you one day, I want to drive a car like yours, and these are the songs I will play in it.’ My dad was a smoker and, as a result, I would say to myself, ‘I am going to be a smoker one day when I am big, so I can be just like my dad.’ I don’t actually smoke, by the way – I just thought that I would as an adult.

My dad has taught me that family comes before anything else, and he encourages my siblings and me to nurture our relationships with one another. We must ‘hold hands’, he always says. One thing he has not mastered is putting himself first, which I wish he would do more. It’s something I have learnt to do for myself by watching him struggle with it. Pa will work himself to the bone, then drive all the way to Joburg to check up on my siblings, my cousins and our families. Sometimes I tell him that he looks worn out and needs to rest, but I think he will work until he can’t any more, because he employs half his family.

Some of the wisdom he taught me is that you should never write off your children; he never wrote me off. He also taught me that money might come back to you but time will not. I am glad that I have learnt to prioritise the things and people that matter to me the most. I guess whoever said that life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away, wasn’t being cheesy after all.

According to Pa, my paternal grandfather was a great lover of music and had two gramophones on which to play his records. My uncles played the flute, and my dad made his own guitar out of an oil canister and some wood. Although he possessed a natural rhythm, he was discouraged from pursuing music professionally. When he was working in a small town called Parys in the Free State, he sang in the choir but gave it up to pursue medicine. Music was clearly in the family genes, so it is no surprise that my life has panned out the way it has.

My dad has a great relationship with my daughter Ditshupo and my son Kgosi, and he spoils them rotten. He always calls to check if they are home for the weekend so that he can visit them. He even came from Thaba ’Nchu to attend Grandparents’ Day at my kids’ school one year, once again proving how important family is to him.

What a guy! Like I said, I really just wanna be like my dad, man!