‘Blawa opened my eyes to possibilities’

I like to say I was born, bred and marinated in New Brighton.

I’ve lived in Cape Town for almost a decade now, but New Brighton (or Blawa to some) is home, always.

Whenever I drive home to Gqeberha, I always exhale just as I pass Mpilweni Hospital, because I’m home.

When I drive past the car wash opposite the police station, and turn into Ferguson Road and see my first Algoa Bus of the day, that’s when I feel like I’ve arrived home.

New Brighton is more than just a township, it’s a way of life.

The Mbizweni Square where you find the best wors in the country at KK Butchery (fight me on this) or the church in Aggrey Road that will always be eRio to the locals, or the Mendi Arts Centre, and the Avenue A garage that has seen us at our worst.

KwaVanani, which was sometimes the only place we could buy electricity.

The jazz corner close to SPAR, which has changed ownership a dozen times since I was a teenager.

Patidos, the Railway Flats, and that silver bench at the corner of Grattan and Aggrey Road.

Those are my landmarks, that guide us home.

As a way of introduction, I am the editor of Drum Magazine and True Love online and I owe it all to New Brighton.

My home as well as the village that came with it.

I owe it to Mrs Ngwekazi at Phendla Primary School who not only knew every member of my family, but was quite invested in making sure that none of us fell through the cracks.

I owe it to the teachers who made sure that I was part of the excursions to what we used to call “The Industry”, where we got to learn about various trades including bricklaying and woodwork.

Those who made sure I was selected and was part of Saturday classes to the fancy St George’s Prep school when I was a preteen, just because I was passionate about reading.

The choir competitions which opened up a whole new world for me, where scholars from all over what was then Port Elizabeth would get together at various halls in New Brighton from sun to sundown.

The friendly competition between Cowan, Newell and Ithembelihle on basically everything from academics to sporting activities.

I owe it to Mr Khoza at Ithembelihle Comprehensive School, who encouraged me to love and focus on my writing, who taught me that reading was an essential part of life and there was nothing to be ashamed of, even when my peers questioned it.

I especially owe it to the New Brighton library.

I would often walk to the library at the Centenary Hall three times a week, alone or with friends, and get to pick books from the “adult” pile, even though I technically wasn’t allowed to.

I knew that library inside out, I knew which books were due back when so that I could camp there and wait for them to be returned.

It was also the time taken by Mrs Mabhengeza to gather a group of teenagers and teach us about sex and sexual health, in a safe and non–judgmental environment.

We created theatre productions around the topic of safe sex when we didn’t even know half the things we were talking about.

Who I am is also due to the endless hours spent at St Stephen’s Church with the youth club.

The laughs, the memories, and the life lessons.

I still remember to this day, one session with Sylvester Funani in the tiny hall of the church, where he had us doing affirmations.

And one of them was “I’m somewhere, in the future, and I look much better than I look right now”.

I still carry that with me, all the time.

While my grandmother, mom, aunt, and uncles had a lot to do with the person I am now, my township opened my eyes to possibilities.

There’s a sense of community to this day that I’ve never experienced in the suburbs.

On January 1 every year, uSpakes and a lot of other people would hire buses to ferry dozens of children to the beach and for most, that was the one and only time they got to see and experience it.

There are no limits in New Brighton and that’s where it can make or break you.

And the choice is often up to you.

It made me.

I am a child of erhangeni, eNew Brighton, ngase’zflatin.

And I will forever be grateful.

Who I am is also due to the endless hours spent at St Stephen’s Church with the youth club. The laughs, the memories, and the life lessons’