I had taught myself how to speak, read, and write English, albeit with a very strong French accent

Arriving in a new country as a refugee comes with many challenges learning the language, adjusting to the culture, figuring out how to navigate the city, and even finding where things are in the grocery store. Trust me, it can be emotionally taxing. But as human beings, we are built to find our way back if we allow ourselves to.

One of the things I needed to master when we arrived in South Africa as refugees was the ability to drive. I had taught myself how to speak, read, and write English, albeit with a very strong French accent. I was 20 years old when I finished high school. Because we were still asylum seekers, there were many limitations on what we could do, and one of those limitations was getting a driving licence. To do that, you need an identity number. However, I I have always been resourceful, and I found out that with a traffic register number, one could begin the driving journey.

In order to obtain a driver’s licence in South Africa, you need to first obtain a learner’s licence. This involves passing a written exam that teaches you the rules of the road, allowing you to drive on the road as long as there is a licensed driver in the passenger seat. It is considered a relatively easy test, and most people pass it the first time. I figured that would be my fate how hard could it be?

How could I fail a test that everyone else passed? 

Wrong! I failed. I could feel shame descending on me like a cloud, but before it could settle, I told myself that I was part of the privileged 1% who had to do it twice. I was wrong again. I went back for the second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth time. Yes, you heard me right I failed eight times! I couldn’t understand why.

Eventually, one of the traffic officers took pity on me and decided to help. He told me there was one question I kept getting wrong and gave me the answer. You see, I had started to believe that I was stupid. How could I fail a test that everyone else passed? As much as I had learned to speak English, I did not always understand the nuances of the language. I wasn’t stupid, but the English language confused me.

Here are the lessons I learned from this experience:

You cannot allow failure to define you. I had every reason to give up, and I almost did. Had I given up, I would have been a failure. Not being able to drive would have significantly impacted my life, limiting my options and leaving me with deep regrets.

Ignore the critics. I became the butt of many jokes. But here’s the thing: the people laughing at me had their own demons to fight. They chose to laugh at me because my demons were public. The truth is, I conquered mine. People will always criticise, but I don’t take criticism from those who are not in the arena. Pick your critics wisely those who are actually in the arena with you will never criticise.

Viewing failure as an opportunity for growth, rather than something to be feared or avoided, builds resilience. I developed a growth mindset, learning to see setbacks as learning experiences that helped me grow, rather than as insurmountable roadblocks. This shift in perspective kept me moving forward, refusing to give up when challenges arose.

It challenges you to bounce back. Resilience is the strength to recover after a setback. When you fail, you are forced to confront difficulties. But it’s in overcoming those obstacles that you strengthen your ability to recover and persevere. Each failure gives you the opportunity to prove to yourself that you can handle challenges and come out stronger.

It helps you build problem-solving skills. Failure often requires creative solutions. When you face a setback, you are forced to think critically, adapt, and find a way forward. This process helps you develop a mindset focused on problem-solving, which is key to being resilient in future challenges.

My advice to you: try again. Be defiant in the face of failure

With love,
Sandra