I hate Gauteng. I detest this place. I wholeheartedly loathe it. But as an academic by profession, stating a position or a claim is not good enough. And so, I asked myself why. Why do I hate the province of Gold so much?
It’s weird because when I was young, I used to like the place. When we would take my brother to university and be around the tall buildings and McDonald’s, that was awesome as a young boy. My brother would sometimes come back home using the bus. That in itself I found cool. And obviously, my big brother being the big brother that he is, would come back with something cool for me to brag about amongst my friends.
Even as a teenager, the narrative continued with my sister. My brother would come back with the latest (and full version) of house tracks. My sister would come back with undiscovered Hip Hop songs. I used to marvel at this place where my elder siblings would discover the coolest of cool.
But this is why I share this. I am back on this journey of self-discovery. I am back on this journey to live out my purpose. And I realise that somewhere along the journey I got lost. And through blogging, this is me sharing how I am getting back on the journey.
And I write about Gauteng, or more accurately my hate for it because in that I discovered something important. Because when I was younger, I viewed Gauteng from the outside. I viewed it as an outsider, mesmerised by the gold. It seemed like a call to adventure.
This call to adventure has always been important to me and I’ll explain shortly why that’s the case. I discovered that my purpose on this planet is to be a thinker. The term philosopher is too strong and it equates me to the greats like Thabo Mbeki, Kwame Nkrumah and Steve Biko. I am not at their level hence I settle for calling myself a thinker. But again, the academic in me (the thinker in me) wants to discover why. Why do I think my purpose is to be a thinker?
Revisiting my childhood memories, I come across a myriad of examples to provide me with the evidence I need to validate my claim that my purpose is to be a thinker. But the one most potent in context to my hatred of Gauteng is that of adventure. I noticed that in my first blog entries (ones that I originally posted in Google Blogger), there was one reoccurring theme.
All the blog entries were the same. They involved me walking into the wilderness, coming across something (a rock, a creek or a tree) and me focusing on that something. Through that something, I will believe that I was hearing God’s voice. Not literal voice but I would receive a divine message. I had a notebook at the time. I’d write this message in the notebook and hurry back home to rewrite it in Word.
But this was in my early twenties. I asked myself, have always been like this? And surprisingly, the answer is yes. When I was even younger, around the ages of 9 or 10, I had what I called a “Warrior Bag”. From the shows that played on SABC during the afternoon, I learnt a few cool gadgets and things and how to make them myself.
In my bag I made smoke bombs made from eggshells and inside was flour. The idea is that when thrown with enough force, it would create smoke. There was a bow and arrow a friend of mine bought. It was a toy but to me, it was a lethal weapon. I had two heavy bags of sand. To be honest, I forget why the two sandbags. And a couple of other things. There was a time I would carry this bag and practice parkour intensely. In my mind, I was preparing myself for a reality where I’d have to fend for myself. Doom day prepper things.
And this sense of adventure never left me. Last year, I confess, it was the stage in my journey where I was facing the hardest trials in my life. I had decided to quit my job the year earlier (2021) and go into business. I failed in all those businesses and the savings I had drowned with the businesses. And so, I went back to the world of work. A place I had promised myself never to go back to.
I, however, was excited because I was in KZN. I loved and still love KZN. Everything about KZN excites me. The forest, the Zulu culture and yes, the women too. And also, no one knew me in KZN. It provided me with the opportunity to become myself. As the lastborn, one is plagued with the overbearing protectiveness of your loved ones. There’s nothing wrong with this. In fact, it is a gift and blessing to have so many people love you and wish nothing but the best for you. But what they view as the best for you is based on their perceptions of you. And I can argue that my sense of adventure stems from me being the last born and seeking to live freely outside the comfort of my family’s love.
And KZN provided me with that escape. I was an absolute nobody in KZN. It allowed me to be me without judgment or question from anyone. Indeed, KZN allowed me to tap into an inner me that was begging to be freed.
But unfortunately, where I worked in KZN was the pits. Again, I’m an academic. Being an academic is really a lifestyle. You can’t suppress the curiosity of an academic. You cannot contain the mind of an academic. And the school I worked for was doing just that. I felt like I was an employee. I did not feel like an academic. That was suffocating.
And that place did not pay well. And that added to the trails one was facing. Here I was, someone who has a postgraduate degree but at the end of the month, I have to call my mom to help me buy groceries. A full-blown male adult, having to call his mother to help him buy groceries. Please let that sink in.
In the same breath, I am in KZN. KZN women are the most complete African women on this planet. And so, obviously, your boy was out in the streets. No one knew me. This gave me the freedom to really up my game. I could talk to women with no fear of “I never knew you like this Thando” or what have you.
There was one girl I met and I really liked. A lawyer in the making. She was awesome. My friend would call her an angry girl. That’s basically a girl who has a mean grin. But what’s awesome about these girls is that once they open up, you realise they have the most beautiful of souls. But remember, I am struggling to make ends meet for myself. So, it was difficult to maintain the relationship.
And it wasn’t about the money. It was the fact that I had to calculate between seeing her and having enough petrol for the week. It was about calculating between buying toiletries for myself and taking her out on a date. I know she didn’t mind. Quite in fact, I know she would have assisted if I told her. But a man’s pride be the death of many, including me.
One would assume I would learn my lesson. Please remember I am in KZN, my land of milk and honey. Later I would date another woman who’d capture my heart. And capture it she did. I’d call her my Pearl. She did not care about the money and the fact I was broke. In fact, she would drive a total of 40kms to give me a carton of milk after I told her I was out of milk. There are so many beatitudes about my Pearl that I would lose the point of this post if I begin writing about her.
At this stage, let’s not forget that I’m working for a company. Yes, a company and not a school. That place is not a school. I feel sorry for some students there who actually desire a quality higher education. That place really is a disgrace to higher education. And because of my frustrations that were building up there, naturally, I looked for other job opportunities. And I found one. One that would drive me out of KZN.
The joy was expressed with the tears of a clown. I was happy that I was leaving that dungeon of a place. I was happy I was advancing my career. I was happy I was going to work for a prestigious institution. From a career point of view, this was a necessary move. But personally, I was broken. My heart sadden by the fact I am leaving my Pearl. My heart sadden by the fact I was leaving the few colleagues who were becoming friends. My heart sadden by the fact I was leaving KZN, the place I called home.
There was a practice when I was home that I would do. To feel alive, it’s also best to walk in the rain. They say that God is in the Rain for that very reason. It was raining that day and I decided to take my camera and begin walking. I felt my phone and the only thing I took was my camera.
I lived in Kloof, a fairly upper-class neighbourhood near Durban. But this is KZN, so even in this neighbourhood, we were still in the thick of the forest. I just walked. In the rain. I walked where my heart told me. My heart led me to a beautiful little area. I was terrified. I was terrified of snakes. I was terrified of monkeys. I was terrified of boPara. I was terrified as my heart led me into this forestry area in Kloof. But my heart found solace in the dark place that I was in.
And therein lies my distaste for this province. I have taken such walks here in this place. Everything is artificial and manmade. I told some of my colleagues of my yearning for nature. Most of them told me of manmade parks and reservations. Most people who are here in Gauteng care for their careers than their well-being. And do you blame them? Of course not. As an outsider, you are here in Gauteng because of work and nothing else. Gauteng: the place of gold. We are here in search of a piece of that gold.
And in that search, for someone like me, it robs the sense of adventure. I’ve tried to get “lost” and the park is the only area that remotely mimics a natural setting. And because of this, someone like me cannot find a firm footing in this province.
It makes me realise that it’s one thing to discover your purpose. But it is also equally as important to discover what fuels your purpose. Imagine if Charles Darwin never explored the American islands, he would have never come up with the theory of evolution. Yes, he would have known he loves the natural world but this love was fuelled by the discovery of rare and bizarre creatures.
For someone like me, Gauteng is a handicap that cripples my ability to explore the world. I am one of those who believe that you cannot contain God in temples and books. You can hear and feel God’s omnipresence in the wild. How can you achieve that in this province? Where concrete and pavements shape the surroundings? Where in the pockets of pure natural elements like little patches of trees and creeks rest men and women who will rob you not because they want to, but because they have an addiction to feed?
This is not like KZN or Free State where there’s more nature than concrete. Yes, these dangerous elements still exist in other provinces. But the fact remains that they are more prevalent in this province of Gold.
Remember, as you dig for your gold, so is the man and woman next to you. They won’t mind pushing your elbow and giving you a fake sorry afterwards. As you guys are digging, there is a stalker waiting for you to cash in in order to rob you. They lack the digging skills but so they’ll use force if necessary to get the gold. And while you guys are digging and the stalker lurking in the shadows, there are merchants selling snake oil that promises to lubricate your shovel so that it can dig deeper into the earth for that gold. They know that you are for the gold so why use force when they can manipulate the very need that has you in the banks surfing for it?
There are so many elements in this province all designed for individuals to attain more gold for themselves. For someone like me, who believes that living is in the wildness of long grass velds and the feel of ants walking over your feet, this province is hell. This province is a barless prison. This province is the sand that douses my inner fire to be alive.
And that, I believe, is why I hate Gauteng.
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