Monday, 28 April 2014

Burying self-pity: the story of Phumlani Stanley Nkontwana

I first met Stanley, as he was introduced to me, in 2003.  He was nominated, by his Umlazi high school, Zwelibanzi High School, to receive a prize awarded by the University of Cape Town.  Along with one of the current Deputy Vice-Chancellors, I travelled to Umlazi to attend the prize-giving ceremony.
 
The criterion for the award was simple: academic excellence.  He was the unanimous choice of the school’s staff, I was told.  Upon hearing his name being called, Stanley walked to the stage, which was really the front of a local church, where the ceremony was held, head bowed, staring at the floor ahead of him.  This was my first vision of Stanley: a nervous and humble boy.

In subsequent months we discussed Stanley at length with his teachers, and were told that he was from a poor family, who lived in dire circumstances locally.  However, he apparently worked very hard and had a great deal of potential.  Naturally, we watched him very closely, and supported him where we could.  He applied to UCT for admission and it came as surprise to me later that year when Stanley was deemed ineligible for need-based financial aid.  Eager to understand this inexplicable response to his application, we set about an informal investigation, and soon arrived at the reason.  The National Student Financial Aid Scheme (NSFAS) used a means test to assess elgibility, and one of the many indicators was the postal code of the applicant.  Stanley’s mother, a single parent and domestic worker, used her employer’s postal code as a more reliable code for his application.  It was indeed this code, from an affluent Glenwood community, that disqualified Stanley for financial assistance.  The correction was made and, of course, he had the resources to attend UCT from 2004.

To say that UCT was a challenge for Stanley and his classmates from Umlazi, a sprawling, poverty-stricken township south of Durban, would be misleading at best.  The transition was simply one that I could not understand, and could only witness in its various forms, trying to support these young ladies and gentlemen where we could.  From the modes of teaching and learning to the social interactions with wealthy fellow students from a wide range of contexts, the enormous gap threatened, seemingly every day, to undo the promise of a better life.  Still, they soldiered on.

During the early months I was frequently visited in my office on the campus by one or more of these students, including Stanley himself.  I would listen to stories of despair.  In one case a medical student was terrified of the groupwork she was forced to participate in daily.  Standing in front of a class, speaking on behalf of her group, is something she had never done before.  To make matters worse, many were English first language speakers, and very confident.  Another student told me how he was simply trying to understand the lecturer’s accent, and then understand the work.  Taking and filing notes was a secondary concern, as were others such as academic writing of essays, projects and so on.

Despite all of their hardships, they persevered, one year following another.  Yes, some did not make it, sadly, and were forced to change to other institutions.  But those who remained faced these challenges with the resilience they were able to muster.  Study groups were formed among themselves, and they developed a new discipline.  I once encountered Stanley coming down Jameson steps around midday, heading for his residence room for the first time that day, having spent the night studying on upper campus.  Even here, he remained an example for those who came with him, and those who followed.  By 2006, two years after he first arrived, Stanley was instrumental in receiving new UCT students from Umlazi, and providing, along with with other students from back home, their own brand of orientation.  One of those students was his younger brother, Khayalethu “Khaya” Nkontwana.  Khaya started the MBChB programme, amidst tremendous excitement.


During this period Stanley, as well as other students from Zwelibanzi High School, successfully nominated their Physical Science teacher, Mr Sibusiso Maseko, for the Stella Clark Teacher’s Award.  The awards ceremony for the event drew a host of Zwelibanzi High School students who were currently registered at UCT, and bore further testimony to the relationship that had developed between the school, and indeed the broader community, and UCT.

Vice-Chancellor Ndebele, Mrs & Mr Maseko, and Stanley Nkontwana

Stanley also invested in UCT and his contribution to his residence in his latter years, Forest Hill, was used by many students long after he had left.  Realising that the residence needed its own library resource for the assistance of its many students 9 in excess of 700 – Stanley set about procuring resources, and space for a library of its own.  Within months Forest Hill had their own library, and his tremendous contribution was acknowledged by the University.

After five years, Stanley graduated with a degree in Economics and Statistics.  It was a special moment for many.  He immediately moved to Johannesburg, where he started working at the Allan Gray Orbis Foundation.  I recall visiting Stanley during a trip to Johannesburg.  He received me at their Melrose Arch offices, and I could not believe what I was witnessing.  Here was a confident, highly respected young man strutting around the offices, introducing me to colleagues.  He even briefed me about his entrepreneurial ventures, which appeared to be doing well.  In addition, out of his deep sense of commitment to the plight of the youth in Umlazi and elsewhere, he established the Phumlani Nkontwana Foundation, which raised money to support you with uniforms and other requirements to assist them in school.

In 2013, Khaya graduated with an MBChB, and in January 2014 started his internship at a hospital in Umlazi, serving the community from whence he came.  Shortly thereafter, Stanley registered for a Master’s in Econometrics at the University of Johannesburg.  On Saturday, 26 April 2014, Stanley opened a franchise fast-food business in Diepkloof, a Soweto township, his brother driving from KwaZulu-Natal for the launch.  I write it now as though it’s the culmination of something, when I know that it is not.  There is still so much that he will achieve.

Stanley is one of the first customers at his new fast food outlet in Diepkloof
 
How can Phumlani Stanley Nkontwana not be the South African youth icon we can all illuminate as the example for others to follow?

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