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stories4africa · 4 years

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Is there really more than this?

I know there is more out there. I cannot fully imagine how it looks, tastes or sounds like but I know it is out there. I am tempted to follow this burning urge in me to go and find it but there are a lot of backlashes that I am experiencing. Among them is EXPERIENCE. It is not the green-eyed monster that some people imagined under their bed when they were younger, I must just clarify that I am not among those people, nonetheless, EXPERIENCE is a very scary monster.

It is the one that whispers all these fears that I am trying with everything in me to block. It is the reason for the invisible glass ceiling over my head that I intersect whenever I am climbing the ladder of dreams and future plans.

I know that there is more to me than academics. Mam Khoza (my senior pastor) once asked me a question that left me thinking. She asked but did not expect an answer at that time, but she ignited a thought process that is still continuing in me. “Apart from your academics what are you going to do with your life?”

Perhaps the quotation marks are out of place because those were not her exact words, but they are the words that are on replay in my mind. For as long as I can remember, academics have always taken the highest priority in my life. I needed to be the best. Why? I was not always sure but I always knew that I needed to be the best. My whole life turned to a battlefield, with everything I did always ending up being competitive. You were either with me or competition that I needed to eliminate.

In retrospect, was it the best way I could have went about with my childhood? I am not sure. Anyway, we were discussing the need for more and the monster of experience and not my childhood. Still on the topic though…

Back at school, I guess I was competitive because I truly believed that more had to be out there. I am certain that my surrounding was one factor contributing to that. Daily, I travelled into Queenstown for school from Gqebenya (a village in Lady Frere, Eastern Cape in South Africa), where very little was there to inspire me.

That’s of course not taking into account nature. I must admit that I have always had a thing for the mountains and the sky. When the streets around you are dusty, dry and knocked off like those in my neighbourhood, it helps to find beauty elsewhere. The brewing of summer thunderstorms was always the best cloud-display one could get in the hood. I always secured a front-row seat, from the tiled stoep at the front of the house or by placing an abandoned Castle Lager beer case in the backyard.

Summertime is a little something like this in Gqebenya. The picture is taken from my backyard with Ma’Luja’s house being the white one on the right.

At least then, I would have very few eyes on me, not that people would go out of their way to watch what I was doing. After all, finding people just sitting outside was nothing new. More often than I would have wanted I would see people gathered at Ma’Luja’s house for a round of beers and umqombothi (homemade Xhosa beer). Their gatherings rarely ended peacefully, in contrast, statements drenched with vulgarism would put an end to the loud babbling that filled the whole street. Noise pollution like no other…okay maybe I am being a bit dramatic with the latter statement, but you get the point right?

From pre-school, I remember being introduced to a different world. One that was colourful and full of developments. One where, as a four-year-old, I did not have to fear that one day I was going to drown in the pit latrine and die from suffocation. No, when I was at school, I could flush my waste away and never see or smell it again when I went back to the toilet.

No matter how dreamy that world was, when the clock hit 4 pm I was probably back on my way home and would be forced to quickly face that fear from all the liquids I was drinking on the hour-long journey from town to home. I never really understood why we couldn’t have flushing toilets like the rest of the world (or what seemed to be the rest of the world to my four-year-old mind), but it was such questions that made me want to push for more. Before attending Thistledown Pre-school, I never questioned the way of doing things back home, because my home was the only standard I knew.

As I got older and wiser, not much physically changed around me. People continued doing things as they had always done. The roads and water supply were still a joke. Those with jobs continued with them and a vast majority who were unemployed continued to make umqombothi or attend imicibi (ceremonies/rituals to appease their ancestors) at every opportunity they had. It was not a surprise to see young boys/men my age gathered in a circle and passing a 5-litre enamel container filled with umqombothi around. For a number of years, my father seemed to always find a reason to host these but would put up a fight if I asked him for money related to my growth, but hey that’s a story for another day. We did get a DSTV at some point which accelerated my imagination of the bigger world that lay beyond Gqebenya. It was there that I saw kids with their own rooms, cell phones, cars and swimming pools. They were living the ‘posh life’ that I could only dream of, and dreaming I did do. More often than some would like. If I somewhat found myself getting distracted or too comfortable at school, having to use the toilet at home would always be the reminder I needed.

It was no longer the fear of drowning that haunted me, but the indignity I felt when having to walk to the toilet while some of my neighbours were sitting outside. I could not shake the thought that everyone sees you when you are doing your business and how long it takes you to get it done. Oh, the horror of it all! In reality, I was probably the last thought on people’s minds.

Nonetheless, I would always return from the toilet with the thought that I will change my life with any opportunity I get. So maybe that’s why I wanted to be the best. I felt the need to stand out, so that if anyone was going to be selected to go somewhere, that it would be me without a doubt. Maybe that is why I saw it all as a battlefield because some of my classmates did not walk a day in my shoes. Sure they had their own problems with growing up in townships, but at least they had flushing toilets…many of them.

From the first prize-giving at St Theresa’s Primary School in 2006, until my last one in 2011, I strived for the number one position. With my determination to be the best always being kept in line by the bigger picture embedded within, that a world with more was awaiting.

High School at Maria Louw High was no different. At first, I felt out of place because of the bigger pupil numbers, the taller buildings and the bigger schoolyard but quickly found my feet when I saw Elanor, the head prefect in 2012. She mesmerized me with her black school blazer that displayed badges of achievements on either side. My friends and I joked about how heavy the blazer probably was. Without knowing what the badges were for, I immediately resolved within me that I was going to be like her if not better. Giving God the glory, I did exactly that throughout high school.

This was taken on the prize-giving ceremony in 2013 (my grade 9 year). My mother, Kholisa Kasolo, is the beautiful lady in the picture with me.

It was through my endless involvement in whatever I could do that I saw my potential outside of academics. Without neglecting my school work I also made a mark for myself in leadership and public speaking. Yet none of my achievements would have been possible without the unwavering support of the teachers that stood behind me. The highlight of my high school career was being accepted to study at the Australian National University. The dream to go to nations was always there and that acceptance letter reaffirmed that I was not just some crazy kid with pointless dreams. Although I could not go because of the lack of finances I rejoiced in my victory. In January 2017, I prepared myself to go to Stellenbosch University, with the understanding that it was not my final destination, more awaited me. I still had no clue what the more was.

The level of culture shock I had when I got there, was equivalent to being in a different country. From the architecture, landscape, language and people everything seemed a bit foreign. Don’t get me wrong, it was a good yet intimidating thing. I never openly admitted that to anyone, but rather put on a brave face and ran with the pace that everything was being dished out with. And the first task was getting through welcoming week. Maties O-week is a spectacular, fast-paced and eventful week that one either enjoys or dreads. For the most part, I enjoyed it, but in some quiet moments, I heard the voices inside my head speaking.

If you guessed that experience was one of those voices then you are absolutely correct. That deceptive, vile and loud monster not only recited my shortcomings but constantly painted a picture of the disparity of my background with where I was. It honestly does not take a lot for one to see that the wealth disparity in South Africa unfortunately still exists. “Reality check girl, you don’t belong here. Look at them and look at you. This is their world.”

I continually and consciously fought the wall of separation this villain was building. With much effort, I put out the flames of a “them” that experiencing was busy fueling. This was after all my first time being in a white and Afrikaans dominated environment (in terms of numbers). Sure I did Afrikaans at school but was never exposed to the culture. My school only had Black and Coloured pupils. For the most part, my fight back strategy seemed to work and meeting numerous like-minded people made the journey worth a while.

In no time I learnt to wear my best outfit, my smile, wherever I went in Stellies. Photo credit: C-TheSixth

At the end of the day, we are all just people. I adored the diversity that I encountered like never before. You might think it simple, but being at university allowed me to make Afrikaans, English, Chinese, Indian, Sotho, Tswana, Pedi and Zulu friends on a more frequent base than I was ever exposed to. It was here that I noticed and truly appreciated how unique we all are, but that the uniqueness is not appreciated by all. It was in Stellenbosch that I grasped a part of my identity, that hey I’m a young black, Xhosa female, but it was also here that I found part of my identity to be challenging. “What does it mean to be black in the context of where I am?” “Why am I sometimes treated differently from my white counterparts?” “Does coming from a previously underprivileged environment automatically mean I am incompetent as some people seem to think?” “Is my voice loud enough or does my skin determine the attention I will get?”

Amidst all these questions my resolve to be the best kept me going for the most part. Sure, I did not go to any private or model C school, I did not own a car or expensive clothes, but deep down I knew that those were all just superficial things. I was also not ignorant of the fact that they are not representative of everyone in Stellenbosch and so did not define me. So without fail, academically I continued to pursue the more and bigger picture in my head. I am humbled to say that I performed very well academically to the point of being a Golden Key Honours recipient and being on the Dean’s List for a number of my modules.

So far, I would hope that it is clear how academically orientated my life was, but that’s not all I am about. On the contrary from primary school, I learnt to explore my creative side through writing poetry or stories but rarely performed them publicly. I also enjoyed drama, but because people already had this idea that I was a “serious-smart” child, I mainly kept my creativity to myself, after all, I had an image to uphold. This continued to high school and consequently university. However, I was doing pretty okay and so it did not really matter, until 2019. My year started with a bang, an extraordinary experiencing touring Germany, but that also left a painful marker on my life, which I cannot get into details about at the moment.

This is an image I took in Munich Germany in January 2019. Photo cred: Nalin Singh

The journey of recovery from that incident took a toll on my mentality. For the first time I stopped trying to see everything as good even when it’s not, I forced myself to be honest with myself. As if I did not have enough going on already I encountered parts of my degree that I just did not enjoy and struggled with grasping although it seemed everyone around me was having a jolly time with them. For a change, my identity which was strongly based on being an A-student was tested and I found myself going back to Mam Khoza’s question. “Apart from academics what will you do with your life?” It was also in 2019 that I truly experienced academic racial discrimination in my degree, which was my tipping point, adding to all I was going through.

After this, the battle for my mind became more fierce. My therapist called it a fight to overcome internal oppression. More often than not I wondered whether this was it. “No, there must be more. Your life will not end like this. You are all that and more.” The fighter in me would respond. So I made a frightening yet exciting decision to embark on a journey of searching, which meant cutting a lot of ties. I bid farewell to everything contributing to my struggle.

So have you found it now? Is there really more out there? You might want to ask, but I, unfortunately, cannot give you answers now. The journey still continues and daily I am learning to allow myself to BE more than to DO. The greatest battle is in my mind but I am a victor. So I walk with my head held high.

I’ll keep you posted.

I am Nomvo Faith Kasolo, but you can also call me Vee. Thank you for reading my story…

#LWOS #WriteYourStory #DailyChoosingLife #Living4Christ

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brookefordsinclair-blog · 6 years

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b i o g r a p h y

basic ic details

NAMES: Brooke Yvette Ford-Sinclair

FACECLAIM: Olivia Wilde, I have no others, really.

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cisgender female & she/her/hers

DATE OF BIRTH & AGE: Thirty-five, march fifth, 1983

ORIENTATION: Homosexual

HOMETOWN: Three Rivers

LENGTH OF STAY: Their whole life, only leaving for a few years to go to university out of state

NEIGHBORHOOD: Sugar Pointe

OCCUPATION: They are the high school counselor and so most people who have been in high school for the last eleven years, have had her as their school counselor and have had the pleasure of having her give them sexual education as well.

TRAITS: open-minded, generous and caring but also possessive, stubborn and overprotective

the interrogation

1. Good afternoon, first off I have to ask, are you comfortable? The room isn't too cold, is it? Did anyone offer you something to drink? Water, coffee, perhaps tea?

Brooke shifted on the uncomfortable chair and looked at the plastic cup, filled half way with water. “Good afternoon.” she greeted the officers and swallowed thickly. She knew what this was about and she didn’t want to talk about it. She barely ever did. “Thank you for your concern, but I am fine.” She told them, as she answered their question about the temperature of the room and the drinks. They could see she had water, right? So, why ask? Also, who asked about the temperature of a room. What were they going to do? Bring her a blanket? She had the urge to roll her eyes but decided not to.

2. And if you don't mind, could you please state your name for the record? Is that your birth name? Any aliases we should be aware of?

She wanted to sigh. Hadn’t they just asked for her ID? She patiently answered though. “My name is Brooke Yvette Ford-Sinclair. I was born as Brooke Sinclair, but when I got married, my wife and I hyphenated our last names. I don’t have any nicknames or aliases.” She told them, just wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible. She didn’t want to talk about the murders. She had children, she had a wife. She was worried and talking about the tragic events that were happening and those that had happened in the past, only made her want to hold them close and never let them go. Especially because of what happened to Dahlia.

3. Now then, let's begin with your childhood. What was growing up like for you?

She had no idea why this was relevant, but she chose to answer as honestly as she could. They were trying to piece the truth together, they were trying to solve this and make Three Rivers a safe place to live again. Maybe something in her memories could help them and could help stop this nutcase before they hurt her family. So, she took a deep breath and answered: “I had a fairly normal childhood, I think.” she started and shrugged. “I had a pretty stern father who had very clear expectations but my mother’s warmth made up for that, I suppose. I have an older brother who always looked out for me and I loved school. I had everything I needed growing up and honestly, that is why I still live here. I want to give my children the same great upbringing that I had.” She simply said, nothing really noteworthy happened. Surely, they wouldn’t be interested in the deaths of her grandparents of cancer or natural causes. They wouldn’t be interested in her tomboyish ways. She assumed what she said was enough information.

4. And what about your relationship with your family? Were you close with your parents, or guardians? Any siblings?

She nodded and with a sad smile, she replied: “I did, especially with my mother. She passed away last year and it still... is really difficult to deal with.” She answered and lifted the plastic cup to her lips to take a sip. She didn’t like getting emotional in front of strangers. “My father and I... we got along... alright. He preferred to spend time with my brother though. I didn’t mind too much. We never had much in common anyway.” She clarified. “And my brother... he’s my big teddy bear, honestly.” She said with a smile. “He’s always there for me and I am always there for him. It’s that simple.”

5. What was your high school experience like? Did you enjoy it? Did you have a lot of friends, or were you more of a loner? Somewhere in between, maybe?

She bit her lip and looked at the table. High school. Dahlia. “It was fine. I wasn’t popular, but I wasn’t picked on either. I just had a small group of friends and that was that. I was part of the basketball team and I loved that.” She said with a small smile before she looked up and sighed. “Daliah went to my school. Daliah Jackson.” She had to swallow. Thinking about her always made her emotional. “No one but my wife knows that... she was my first girlfriend. She didn’t want to come out. It was the nineties, it wasn’t like it is today, so I haven’t told anyone that she was into girls. That should have been her decision to reveal. The day she was murdered,” she choked on the word and took a few deep breaths. “my childhood stopped, I think.” she managed to finish. “I was only sixteen and no one knew that I’d just lost my girlfriend. My first love, my first everything.” She explained and shook her head, trying to not let the memories take over right now because she’d just end up crying. She absolutely wanted to avoid that. She hadn’t wanted to talk about Dahlia when she came in, but now as she started to talk, it felt a little better. A little lighter. “After that... I guess I became more of a loner. I just... I don’t know. No one understood what I went through, no one got it and so I just focussed on basketball and studying.” She finished, hoping that there would be no follow up questions to that. She wasn’t sure she could handle it.

6. So, did you go to college? If so, what for and if not, why? What was your post-high school life like?

She nodded. “I was glad to get out of Three Rivers, after Dahlia passed away. I went to the university of Arizona and got qualified to be a counselor. Six years I studied, in which I met my wife, I told her that I wanted to move back here and even though the town had a dark past, with the murders, she agreed to come here with me. We got married, I got the job at the high school and we had three wonderful children. I mean, I live a pretty normal life I think. I am happy... the only worry I have is this murderer. He terrifies me and not a lot really scares me.” She admitted and shivered, thinking about him and what he could do to her friends and family.

7. Do you have a reputation around town? How would you say others perceive you?

She chuckled, finding the question quite funny. Her having a reputation? She was pretty ordinary, really, except: “I think that I am confusing to people. I mean, I don’t think that they would expect the school counselor and mother of three to be riding a Harley and yet I do, so that sometimes makes people frown a bit but other than that, I don’t think I really have any type of ‘reputation’. Maybe as a helicopter parent? Could be possible.” she said, smiling a little to lighten the mood a bit. The air in here felt oppressive to say the least.

8. Can you help me understand your personality? What are you like, both on the surface and deep down? What about in public versus in private?

She raised her eyebrows a little and looked a bit lost for words. “Uhm... God, I don’t know. I mean, I think that at work I am punctual, my office is always tidy and I really try to be there for the kids who want to speak to me and to find the students who need me the most, even though they don’t approach me. I’d say I am open-minded, as I get students in my office with all kinds of questions and problems, and I try to help them as best as I can.” She explained before continuing. “Privately, I think I am a very caring partner and mother. I make my family their lunch every morning, I make sure that everyone has what they need but I can be a bit overprotective of my children. I just really don’t like the idea of them getting hurt, so I do grill their friends and the parents of said friends. I am a little much, I know that but I just can’t even imagine having my children play out in the street, especially with what is going on.” She told them before she licked her lips. “I have also been told I am a little possessive over my wife and friends, but honestly, I think that is an exaggeration. Other than that... I like knowledge, I like being around people, going to the occasional party... I mean, I am really pretty run of the mill, I think.” She explained, not entirely sure why this was necessary because she could have told them anything really, but if they deemed it necessary, she wanted to help. She wanted these people to catch that guy. She wanted to see the face of the monster that killed her high school sweetheart.

9. Leading off of that, what would you consider to be your greatest strengths and weaknesses?

"This is sounding more and more like a job interview.” She said, chuckling slightly and taking another sip of her water. All of this talking was making her mouth go dry. “I think my greatest weakness is that I overthink and can be a little neurotic. That is no fun for the people you live with and it’s mentally exhausting. Oh, and I can’t resist the occasional cigarette.” She explained and then continued: “But I think that I am pretty resillient and I am intelligent, as well as quite fun to be around in general. I am also very good at caculating risks, even though that does annoy some people.”

10. Why don't you tell me some of your greatest regrets? And what about your greatest hopes?

"It’s not really a regret about something I did but I regret that my mother didn’t get to meet our youngest son, Reign. She always wanted us to have another child. To be honest, I don’t think she would have ever been satisfied with the number of grandchildren she had. Anyway, I do also regret not standing up for some kids back in high school. I see what bullying does to children now as a counselor and honestly, I should have spoken up back then.” She told them, but didn’t talk about the regrets she had regarding Dahlia. That she didn’t close the bedroom curtains before they were intimate, still convinced that the killer saw them. How she regrets not walking her home from school the next day, because then maybe nothing would have happened. She didn’t talk about how she regrets having spilled water over Dahlia’s love letters to her, making them now smeared and some parts barely readable - even though she knows them all by heart. She didn’t want to say that. Those were private sorrows and regrets, ones she couldn’t even share with her wife.

11. A bit heavier, I know, but I have to ask if anything has happened to you personally in your life that drastically changed you as a person?

"Well, obviously Dahlia and my mother’s deaths affected me greatly and have mostly created my overprotective nature but not all of the impactful moments have been bad. I mean, getting married and having children had an enormous impact on me, especially when Marcus joined the family. Having a child whose seeing is impaired really makes you look at the world and accessibility in general a lot differently. So... yes, I think those really are the events, really.” She told them, those being the only events she could think of, right at this moment.

12. And of course, I have to ask, were you in town when the Preacher Man was drowning people between '95 and '98? Did you happen to know any of the original seven victims? What was your life like during those tragic years? What was the aftermath?

She frowned, a little offended that he asked this again after she’d told him about Dahlia already. “I told you, didn’t I? I knew Dahlia. Losing her absolutely destroyed me and terrified me. I mean, he kills sinners. We’d just-” she cut herself off and looked up at the officer. He had to know. She had to tell him, even though it felt like something so private she’d feel naked speaking about it. It could be important. “the night before she disappeared, we’d... we’d slept together. t-the first time.” She told him, a bit embarrassed. “It was like he knew what we’d done and that is why she died. I... I feel like he might have seen us, which is... incredibly disturbing. I mean, maybe. That is just how it feels. Sometimes.” She clarified. “Maybe that’s not true. Maybe she was... hiding something else. I don’t know. Maybe she did nothing wrong. I... I just... it’s all a little much to think back to. I never talked about it much afterwards, so... I haven’t really processed it, I think.” She told them, as honestly as she could.

13. That said, did you know either Xavier Bordelon or Sara Mears personally? If so, what was your relationship to them? How much have their deaths affected you?

She nodded. “Sara was a student at the high school, until she left. I’ve worked as a couselor there for around eleven years, so... I mean, I talked to her occasionally. Her death rocked me to my core. It brought back memories, as you probably can understand. I didn’t know personally Xavier, though but... the return of the Preacher Man... it’s... it’s terrifying. I have three children, I have a wife and... and he has taken someone I loved from me once before. What if he does it again?” She asked, knowing that the absolute fear she felt must be obvious in her eyes. She couldn’t lose them. She’d probably go insane.

14. Lastly, Where were you on the nights of March 10th and July 24th and is there anyone that can corroborate your alibi?

She raised her eyebrows. “You think I was involved?” She wondered, a little flabergasted but after shaking her head in disbelief, she answered easily. “My youngest son was born on the 9th of March and I was with my wife in the hospital. I paid for one of those rooms with a second bed, so I could sleep in there with her. I think the night nurse can confirm we were there. My two other kids were at their grandparents’ house.” She explained before she said: “and on the 24th of July, I was in Los Angeles with my family on holiday. I can show you the booking confirmation and the dated pictures of us on holiday.” She explained, still annoyed that she actually needed an alibi. “So, can I please go now? I have to go pick Rey up from school.”

headcanons

She had a commitment ceremony with her wife eleven years ago but got married to her when same-sex marriage became legal in the state. They have three children together. Their oldest is a daughter, whom was carried by Brooke. Her name is Rey and she’s seven years old. They always wanted to adopt and four years ago, they did adopt a boy named Marcus who is of South African decent and is legally blind. Their youngest son was born on the 9th of March and his name is Reign. He is now around five months old.

Brooke owns a Harley Davidson 2015 Fat Boy and it is her baby. She is not handy at all, so when something is wrong with it she does need to get it fixed by someone else but she absolutely adores riding around on it and the sense of freedom and power it gives her. Her wife calls it a death trap, but has admitted that seeing Brooke take her helmet off after riding does have it’s allure.

She still has a box in the attick that is hidden in an old wardrobe which contains love letters, pictures and a diary that are all detailing her relationship with Dahlia. No one knows it’s there and Brooke rarely looks inside of it but does, on the date of when she first kissed Dahlia and when Dahlia was discovered dead. She is still in love with the memory of her and she isn’t sure if her wife would cope knowing that.

extra ic details

I really want her to get closure surrounding Dahlia and the guilt she feels because it honestly isn’t healthy, especially now that the killer is back. It is bringing up so many memories and old feelings for a girl who has been dead for so long. It’s almost hero worship in her mind and she is the one who, aside from the killer, is responsible for the death of Dahlia. She is convinced that the killer took her because they had sex and that maybe, Dahlia would be alive if she’d just walked her home on the day she disappeared.

I think that all of this also would lead to struggles in her otherwise calm marriage. It will probably be obvious that Brooke is struggling and she will probably become distant from her wife, because having sex with her could mean that she might be killed to - in her mind, it is almost a cause and effect type of deal. I am really interested in exploring that.

Aside from that, she does have a child whose sight is impaired, which I think is somehting that they knew when they adopted him but I think it’s quite hard for Brooke. She is a worrier and she wonders how well her child will be able to cope and be a productive member of society. Of course that is ignorant, so I would love for her to really delve into finding a support group for herself and her wife, as well as meet blind people who can show her that success and happiness are possible.

There is also the issue that her father has never accepted her sexuality and doesn’t believe two women can raise children, especially boys so to see her deal with that is certainly something I will be dedicating self-para’s to. It’s complicated because the father has only outright said it just before their commitment ceremony and then never again, he just shows that he doesn’t agree quite subtly. It is torture to Brooke and it is something her children are starting to notice to, which makes it even worse. Should they really be around someone who doesn’t approve of their family?

She is a guidance counselor and one of her students has just been murdered, so I think that helping the students cope and hearing their stories, might have quite an effect on her. It will remind her of how she was when Dahlia died, so that makes it even heavier.

I think Brooke also needs to pick up a hobby, because she honestly just has her work, her motorcycle and her children so seeing her really try and get a friend group and explore what she likes to do will be interesting because aside from a few select friends, she’s pretty alone in the world, I think.

#[ biography ]

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