For as long as I can remember, I longed to go to university. My parents had literally skipped a few borders so that my siblings and I could get an education. My parents were convinced that an educated girl had a better chance in life and that she would not be forced into a relationship/ marriage (which can sometimes be abusive) if she could take care of herself.

We fled the Congo (DRC) and spent two years at a refugee camp in Malawi. The camp had a “school” that was a tin roof building house where all children, all ages, were put into the same class and “taught“ by a retired teacher. On one occasion there happened to be a Canadian, French-speaking lady whom I waited the entire morning to speak to. I had been told that she was leading the delegation.

The desire to be educated was so deeply ingrained in me, that I remember as very little skinny 14-year-old in the refugee camp, that every so often when overseas members of the UNHCR would come visit the camp, challenging one to see to this matter in the camp.

I managed to catch up with her and I got straight to the point. I told her that the UNHCR needed to do something urgently about the state of education in the camp and better yet improve the learning conditions to encourage children to come to school to learn. My thinking was that one day (hopefully) we would all leave the camp, and if we, the children, did not have an education, what hope would we have for the future? Her response to me was:

You are a refugee; you have no right to education

In fact, you should be very grateful for what you have, instead of complaining”. I continued and asked her if she has visited the so-called school because if she had, she would not have been happy with that learning environment. She said “No!”. She had nothing else to say to me, so she got into the car and left. 

Her response left me broken and hopeless. However, I had resolved in my heart in that moment that one day I was going to prove her wrong.

A few months later, we manage to run away from the camp (story for another day) you South Africa. When we were living in Durban and were all in school, it was on most days an awful experience, and challenging at best.

I managed however not only to teach myself English during the last two years of school, but also to pass my matric, though without a matric exemption. I did not do well in Maths and Science so I couldn’t qualify for university nor for a bursary. 

My parents couldn’t afford to send me for tertiary studies. We were still Asylum Seekers and were, by law, prohibited from doing many “normal” things. We had no passports, no visas, and no South African ID documents. Without an ID number it was near impossible to do anything. Imagine the numerous things that you need an ID or ID number to be able to do.

After a while, I felt defeated and, in a sense, gave up hope of studying.

To be honest I grew tired. I grew tired of fighting a system that was preventing me from achieving any of my dreams. I got tired of fighting, so I gave up.

I was 20 years old with a matric certificate but with no hope for the future. Or so I thought. At the end of my matric year we closed school on a Friday, and on the very next day (the Saturday morning) I started my first office job.

No matric rave, no party, no holiday, no gap year. Such options were not available for people like me. I went to work as a receptionist at a hair salon in Durban North. This was my only option at the time. I was heartbroken. Though I knew nothing about office work, or even to work a computer, I am very grateful for that first job. I had amazing employers who held my hand through the journey and taught me so much!

Over the years I would try a few things to further my studies…I started and stopped the process to improve my matric marks so that I could apply to the University of Pretoria. It proved too difficult, and I gave up. Once I became a permanent resident and obtained a South African ID, I applied to Unisa, and began studying. I quickly learnt that distance learning was not for me. I needed a lecturer and classes to attend. I stopped before the end of my first year. In the meantime, life continued, and babies happened.

In 2015, my husband encouraged me to look again into my studies and explore my options and see where it would lead.  We had two small kids by then and had decided not to have any more kids. Well, I had decided…but he was still negotiating.

So, it seemed a good time to pursue my studies again. After completing the application process, and having been accepted, we found out that we were expecting a third baby! I was in shock!!

This was not my plan and it seemed that I would again have to defer the dream of studying!!! I will never forget the conversation that I had with my parents when I was trying to decide what to do. Their words were “go study, it will be challenging, but you have a firm support system”.

I was complaining to them about being potentially a 36-year-old, pregnant student and attending classes with 18-year-olds! “I would be 40 when I am done!” Their words were

“whether you study or not, 4 years will still come and go. Rather be a 40-year-old with a degree than a 40-year-old with regrets”.

There were many people (including close friends at the time) who told me that I wasn’t going to make it and that I should not do it and that I would neglect my family and destroy the kids.

If I am being honest, I didn’t believe that I was going to make it either. But God!

I have a picture that was taken the first day of university when I was 33 weeks pregnant. I had gotten sick (thrown up) a couple of times that morning due to morning sickness- or more accurately all-day sickness. It was a very difficult pregnancy much like the first two. My back was hurting all the time, my feet were swollen, and I was not feeling great. 

That morning, my husband insisted on taking this picture and, in retrospect I am glad that he forced me. The journey of being a mom-student-wife has shaped me in so many ways. It was given me victories, failures, many tears, dropped balls and some clarity. I did miss many of my kid’s sport days, friends’ birthdays, baby showers, morning cuddles with my husband, and many hours of fun. 

I have recently been conferred my BA degree and I am grateful for the family and friends that stood by me during the years- the ones that believed that I could do it. And to the naysayers…perhaps let this be a lesson to you and to all of us.

I am sure you meant no ill intent, but please be kinder to the next mom who is trying to realise her childhood dreams, who’s trying to do more and improve herself. 

If you are feeling that it’s too late to go after those dreams, the ones that keeps you awake at night, just get up and do it! Don’t delay, start today, start now! Tomorrow will come and tomorrow will go. You will have either done something to work at that dream or you would not. 

I want to see more woman who are giving themselves a second chance, and a third and a fourth. Pick up your sword. Start now, start again- it is never too late!! I am rooting for you!

Let us rather focus on being supportive and being each other’s cheer leaders rather than prophets of doom.