My ten years challenge: 2009 vs 2019

There’s a challenge that is currently trending on the social media streets of South Africa. I’m not sure when or how it began but my timelines are flooded by people sharing photos of themselves accompanied by #10yearschallenge. The posts also come with hilarious captions from the various social media users reflecting on the difference between the photos and the time between.

I've been a bit reluctant to post my challenge. I've been hesitant because of technical and emotional reasons. First of all, I don't have a lot of photos stored from back in the day. I think I had my first camera phone late in 2009. As fate would have it the only photos I have, of a chubby me, come with emotions that I had neatly packed away at the back of my heart. I've been reluctant to share them because, in order to give a sincere challenge, I would have to first challenge myself to look back.

Around this time, exactly ten years ago, I overheard my mother pleading to God to spare my life...

I began the 2009 school year as the head girl at my high school. Contrary to popular belief, I was surprised when my name was called out for this. I'll leave the politics behind this for another day. I was the head girl and I was entering my last year of basic education. I don't really recall all the emotions around this but I do remember feeling anxious and a bit overwhelmed about the year ahead. My health began taking a toll in the previous year. I lost complete interest in some of my school subjects. I had also just about exhausted my tolerance for social life in high school. Loved and adored by some, disliked and hated by others but mostly, misunderstood. A lot of people thought they had me figured out back then. Looking back I'm definitely sure that none of them could have been right. I know so because I wasn't even sure what was happening half the time myself.

The events leading to the plea for my life are also a bit foggy. I remember that I was walking about at home in the afternoon, still in my school uniform, when I suddenly could not breathe properly.  Long story short: we drove between two neighbouring towns, without getting help, before we were referred to a hospital in the nearest city. I was in such a state that I couldn't even wait for an ambulance. On our way to Bloemfontein, from Aliwal North, I remember feeling numb and losing more control of my breath as time went by. Towards the end, I could not even keep up with my brother trying to distract me, or my sister praying frantically from the seat behind me. I think the last thing I actually remember was overhearing my mother plead to God for my life. I had mostly heard her sniffs and heavy breaths. Hearing her plea gave me a sort of relief and I just passed out. 

I woke up as we entered the hospital. Only managed to breathe properly with the help of an oxygen machine. Of all the times I had been in hospital in the past year, this was the longest. It was also the furthest away from home. I began losing weight rapidly after this. I didn't really notice it at first but then one day I tried to put on one of my favourite jeans. They were so baggy that I could literally fit two legs into one side. It's been an entire decade and I've still not managed to gain the weight back. Between you and I, I've given up. I've accepted that I am not that person and I will never be. I don't dare repeat this to my mother when she forces me to eat. I don't even dare make the grandmothers, who always reminisce on how cute I was as a chubby baby, aware that the topic on weight is a very sensitive one. I won't even get into the conversations I have with people who think I have the "perfect" weight.


In reflecting on this challenge, I can't really be fair to 2019. We're only two weeks into this new year. I'm still saying "happy new year" to people and I'm settling into my chosen theme: Fireworks, Gratitude and Isaiah 60:22. I'll have ample time to reflect on this year and who I am. Not now.
For some of us, the ten years challenge triggers a couple of painful memories that we would rather forget. It reminds us of failed efforts, scars and the feeling that while time has moved, a lot of things have still remained. Let me overshare a bit: just a week ago one of my veins popped while I was receiving an injection because it is too small. This, unfortunately, meant that another area of my body had to take it for the team. Imagine being pricked twice. Yhu! Same struggle, different year! 

The silver lining, I should say, is that God listened to my mother and spared my life. These past ten years have also had their fair share of victories...

It's a chapter

Today is one of my least favourite days in my country.

As most of you are aware, the results for learners who were completing Grade 12 last year have been released. For those of you who aren't familiar with this, this is a time when one completes their basic education phase. They now have the opportunity to move on towards higher education. These results are public and are published in newspapers country wide.

Back in my day names and surnames where published below the schools. This together with the symbol which shows how one has performed. Appearing on that paper is a BIG deal. Still is. What bothers me is that you're not the only one waiting in anticipation. There are prophets of doom also waiting to rejoice in your success or failure.

During this time we often marvel at the distinctions, how well schools performed and we tend to forget about the ones who didn't make it. I say we forget because our words of encouragement aren't as loud as the critics. So today, my thoughts and prayers are with all those who don't get to celebrate today.

It is the end of the world. I understand. It's the end of the world as you know it and you feeling this way is justified. You've been in the schooling system for a couple of years and you had plans. You had plans to be at university with your friends, to finally earn a salary to help out at home, to be done with school and that teacher you don't like...the list is endless.

Failing your matric year means that you have to endure a lot. From people who are on your case on social media, the neighbours and relatives asking how it went and other prophets of doom who are suddenly experts. You're probably thinking about how you have to endure another year in the space which you were ready to leave. I can relate to this because I couldn't wait to leave high school myself.

Guess what? It's also the beginning of another journey. One where you get to learn that failure is just a chapter. Its never the entire story. Neither is it the end.

You will soon realise that they are right when they say it's not always the fastest runner who wins the race. I know this because I haven't always been the fastest runner and I've turned out fine. I know other people who have also been where you are and they are also perfectly fine.

Embrace this setback in your life.

You may not want to believe this right now but there have been tons of people in your exact position who have made it work. I hope that, for your sake, you've met some who can take you on their personal journey.

For the next few days you'll be subjected to hearing how your fellow colleagues did well. You may wonder how they did it with the same hours and you couldn't. Be constructive about these reasons. If they don't build you, let go of them immediately. Clap for your friends. Congratulate them. You were on the same race but you have different destinations.

When you arrive in varsity nobody will ask you how you got there. When you buy your first car nobody will ask about this year. When you eventually reach your dreams you'll look back at this time and thank life for the lesson.

The thing about failure is that we're taught to avoid it like a plague as society. We're treated like we have the plague when we go through it. We're laughed at, mocked and ridiculed. This ends. After it runs it's course, it comes to an end and you enjoy success even more.

So, yes. The end of the world is also a chapter. Regroup and fight for your dreams. It doesn't end here.

I wish you all the best.

Someone who occasionally spends time with failure.