#PoeticLicence: The pivotal moments that etched the story of my life were orchestrated by women

Author and poet Rabbie Serumula. File image.

Author and poet Rabbie Serumula. File image.

Published Aug 12, 2023

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Johannesburg - My upbringing was shaped by a single father, yet the pivotal moments that etched the story of my life and career were orchestrated by women.

It’s as though fate placed me in the care of a man, yet entrusted my journey to a multitude of unyielding imbokodo, hailing from diverse races and backgrounds. These formidable women were and are the architects of my growth, coaxing the best from within me. I celebrate them this Women’s Month.

In December of 2004, I ventured beyond matriculation and into a new chapter embracing my first job as a waiter at Teaspoon and Tankard - a then restaurant and wedding venue in Muldersdrift, west of Johannesburg. Leading this establishment was Felicia, a regal Black queen whose vision ignited a transformation within me that I didn’t anticipate. Drawn to my narrative of a young black man striving tirelessly while pursuing education, she became the first to fan the flames of potential residing within me.

My second encounter with the women I now celebrate, took place during my tenure at UNISA. As I assumed the role of a student worker handling admissions and registrations, a month into the position, Penny, my boss, made an intriguing inquiry. “Serumula, are you related to Bra Chris?” she questioned. It was a name familiar to me, as it belonged to my late father, who served as the regional manager at UNISA’s Florida campus. Little did I realise that Penny’s lack of surprise foreshadowed another transformative chapter.

The third catalyst was within the walls of UNISA, this time in the old JSE building within Johannesburg’s CBD. While my role as a student worker was temporary, I seized opportunities to tutor fellow students in the computer lab, unwittingly amassing valuable experience. My application for a Computer Lab assistant position within UNISA bore fruit under the guidance of Lulama, my lab supervisor.

Here I encountered an Indian woman named Shelly, a student I tutored. Inquisitive about my aspirations, she inquired about my future plans. In 2012, as I inched closer to my destiny following graduation, I confessed my dream of becoming a journalist. Through serendipitous magic, Shelly shared news of Independent Media’s cadetship program - an opportunity that led me to share these words with you today.

As a fledgling journalist, my flame evolved into an inferno under the nurturing gaze of Kashiefa, my news editor a decade ago and now my editor. She engraved a mandate within me: every story I crafted should echo the cadence of my poetry.

As I trace my journey to its present summit, the final catalyst was Suraya, who I met during the book launch of, “The Black Consciousness Reader”. In her, I found a guidepost leading me to the Embassy of Palestine, where I now serve as an advisor to another strong woman, Hanan, the Ambassador.

And so, during this sacred celebration of Women’s Month, I pay homage to these bold and remarkable souls. Their influence, like a torch passed through time, continues to blaze within me. In their names, I find the strength to embrace each new chapter, each milestone of my life.

The Saturday Star