CLASS OF 2020
Matriculants who became the brightest of stars in the darkest of nights
When his village experienced load shedding in the middle of the night, matric pupil Kamogelo Brandon Senoa would turn on his cellphone torch so he could continue studying.
This week the 18-year-old from Ga-Mamaila reaped the rewards of the long hours spent swotting in the backyard shack that doubles as his study and bedroom.
The pupil from Mantutule Senior Secondary school in Mesopotamia, a village in the Waterberg district of Limpopo, passed matric with three distinctions: mathematics, life orientation and life sciences.
The Waterberg region, one of the remotest areas of the province, emerged as the bestperforming part of the province in the 2020 matric results, with an average of 77.5%. It was followed by Vhembe East with 77.1% and Vhembe West at 72.7%. The province itself was placed seventh, with a 68.2% average, just above Eastern Cape and Northern Cape.
Brandon’s home, a two-bedroom brick house, a zinc shack that serves as a kitchen and another wooden shack where he sleeps – and where he spent hours studying – is located at the bottom of a picturesque koppie.
It is one of the sub-villages under the Mapela traditional authority about 40km west of the bushveld town of Mokopane, which is home to the biggest open-cast platinum mine in the world – Mogalakwena.
The mine employs some of the residents from the district – but those who can’t find work there leave for Gauteng to search for better opportunities.
The homesteads are located on big plots around which residents grow crops such as maize and potatoes for their sustenance and keep goats and cattle in kraals. The grey mine dumps, forming an ugly arch on the green landscape, are visible to the east of the village.
Brandon’s home, like many others in the village, does not have running water. The family buys their supply from independent waterpreneurs who have drilled boreholes at their homesteads and then in turn sell the precious resource.
The village roads turn soggy during the rainy season. They are connected to the electricity grid on a prepaid system. The Mogalakwena local municipality, under which the village falls, has been cited in reports by the Auditor-General as among the worst in the country.
Brandon’s mother, Ivy Senoa, is unemployed. She sells cooldrinks and snacks from home to make a little money for basic necessities. Brandon was a beneficiary of the school’s nutrition programme, which serves a meal to learners.
In the mornings Senoa rises as early as 4am to make a wood fire in the outdoor kitchen to warm up water for Brandon and his little sister, Mashadi, to bath. By 6.30am Brandon is on his way, walking the 45 minutes to Mesopotamia.
He covers the same distance back home in the afternoon. There is no scholar transport in the area and many learners make the long walk to and from school every day.
His family keeps a herd of goats. Sometimes on his return from school he makes his way into the hills to fetch the herd. In difficult times the family raises cash by selling some of their goats.
“We are a poor family and I want to change that,” he said this week, still basking in the glory of his achievement.
His wish is to study computer science. He has already been accepted by the University of Johannesburg. But he is not sure whether this dream will come to pass. His mother cannot afford the fees. He has applied for funding from the National Student Financial Aid Scheme (NSFAS). But a response on his application has still not come through. He doesn’t know what he will do should the NSFAS application not succeed.
But after overcoming learning under difficult conditions brought about by the Covid-19 pandemic last year, he is determined not to let anything stand in his way.
“I want to build my family a decent house,” he said.
At the beginning of last year he was part of a study group involving 12 pupils. But when the Covid-19 pandemic broke out and the Level 5 lockdown was imposed, the group couldn’t meet.
Being in a rural area with poor network connectivity and unable to afford the high cost of data, Brandon and his peers were left to rely on their study textbooks.
“It was tough not having teachers to consult. It was even more difficult because we could not meet. But I realised no one else will study on my behalf,” he said.
When they returned to school after the easing of the lockdown regulations, the learners faced challenges because some of the older teachers were barred from attending classes for fear of contracting the virus.
They had to conduct lessons via Zoom, but these were not always effective because the connection would break suddenly during lessons.
“We were worried in the beginning, but we got used to the conditions,” he said about having to sit in class wearing a mask all day and maintaining physical distancing.
Brandon and learners from villages around Limpopo, which is 85% rural, faced similar challenges. These were compounded by the high unemployment and poverty rate in these areas, where most learners’ only hope for a decent meal is through the school nutrition programme.
On Monday night, Brandon sat up in his bedroom shack waiting for an SMS to flash on his phone to announce the matric results. By midnight on Tuesday nothing had come through.
He decided to take a nap with his phone clutched firmly in his hands. The good news came at 6am the next morning. He ran to the house to inform his mother. She broke into ululation, hugging her son in celebration.
“He was stressed while waiting for the results. But I assured him not to worry. I knew that he would make it because he loves his books. He is always in his room studying,” she said.
She is now stressed about her son’s future. “We are poor. There are no jobs here. I am not working. If this NSFAS doesn’t work it’s going to be a problem.”
Her sister’s daughter, Lethabo, who is just a year older than Brandon, is studying towards a degree in chemical engineering in Gauteng. She too is being financed by NSFAS. Brandon said she encouraged him to study hard last year and he wishes to emulate her exploits at varsity, where she is due to start on her second year.
Provincial MEC for Education Polly Boshielo said last year the province registered 79,813 National Senior Certificate candidates. She said 78,695 candidates wrote all the seven subjects.
With the country placed under lockdown as a result of the Covid-19 outbreak for most of last year, it was expected that under-resourced provinces such as Limpopo would be hardest hit.
“We want to emphasise that this has been a different year, a very disruptive year, and you can imagine the kind of immediate adjustments and adaptations that needed to be made,” Boshielo said. DM168
In 2017 Selaelo Mmolai failed Grade 10 – a combination of poor friend choices and his secret struggles with mathematics all contributed to his temporary setback. Three years later, the 19-year-old is “the top-performing learner” at his school, Bokgoni Technical Secondary in Atteridgeville, for achieving stellar grades in his National Senior Certificate (NSC) examinations.
“I cried. I fail Grade 10? No one believed it happened to me, neither did I,” a giggling Mmolai said. “I’ve always been that kid who loves books. The nerd that always achieved good grades.”
That was his bugle call. He made new friends, dumped the ones who influenced many of his bad choices, swapped classes and relied on his sisters to occasionally help tackle maths, once his Achilles heel.
His sister, Tebatso Mmolai, told DM168 he used to fear mathematics. It was one subject that gave him sleepless nights and made his Grade 10 a terribly unforgettable year.
The circle of friends he held on to until his matric encouraged “healthy competition”, as he calls it. “We knew that if one of us gets a better mark for a particular subject, the goal for the rest of us is to beat that mark.
“We were very competitive, but it was healthy competition.”
Just like many teenagers, Mmolai finds comfort in rap music, and he waxes lyrical about US rapper Kendrick Lamar. If he is not exchanging raps with his friends, he is jogging or watching soccer.
“When my head is not buried in my books, I jog; it helps me clear my mind,” he says.
When Covid-19 landed on South Africa’s shores in March 2020, it sent packing many people’s hopes, dreams and prospects for the future. The country, like the rest of the world, stood still.
“At first I thought there is a tough road ahead because of Covid. But as I went by, I realised that this virus will not stop me from achieving whatever it is I want,” he said. “It’s my life, after all, and I have to make the best out of it.”
Mmolai exhibits the resilience that was commended by Minister of Basic Education Angie Motshekga when she announced the 2020 matric exam results.
His mother, Oxinah Mmolai, said her son was the first in the family to make such an achievement, and he would be the first to go to university. “I never imagined that my son could make me this proud.”
She travelled from Limpopo on Wednesday evening and arrived in Pretoria on Thursday morning to see the results for herself, because she was still in disbelief.
Like many other pupils, for Mmolai learning from home was a mountain to climb. If it wasn’t the noise made by younger siblings fighting over the remote control, it was countless visits to the fridge that could take away an hour from one’s study time.
Gaping challenges such as access to data and learning material posed the greatest challenge, said Mmolai.
At times he would go days without data, which meant that he could not download the learning materials and tutorial videos shared by his teachers in a WhatsApp group created for the matric class.
“Sometimes my mom would not have the money for me to buy data and I would ask my cousin. If he too could not help, I would go chill at our local park that has Wi-Fi and download all my learning materials from there.”
Although the dedication and effort of Mmolai and the thousands of other learners earned them their well-deserved university entrance passes despite the challenges they faced, the silent heroes of this triumph are the teachers, district directors and parents who provided a solid support network for them to flourish.
As is the case with many poorly resourced public schools in the country, Bokgoni faced multiple challenges, including infrastructure, a shortage of teachers and a lack of parents who could afford to pay fees.
According to Tshwane South district director Hilda Kekana, township schools are the backbone of her district – and for four consecutive years it has been named the
It was tough not having teachers to consult.
It was even more difficult because we could not meet. But I realised no one else will study on my behalf
top-performing district in Gauteng. This is the second year in a row that it is the top-performing district in the country.
Tshwane district includes some of the top Afrikaans schools in the country, such as Hoërskool Menlo Park, Afrikaanse Hoër Meisieskool and Hoërskool Waterkloof. It is also home to traditional legacy English single-sex schools such as Pretoria Boys High and Pretoria High School for Girls. The top overall performing pupils in Gauteng for the 2020 academic year are from the Tshwane South district. In first place was Karla Reinecke from Hoërskool Waterkloof and in second place was Carla Dippenaar, also from
Hoërskool Waterkloof, while in third place was Noelle van der Walt from Hoërskool Menlopark.
Kekana’s office could easily pass as a medal and trophy boutique. From wall to wall, her office is covered in accolades the district she runs has won over the past 10 years she has been in office.
“When I started in this district in 2011, I knew they had the capacity. But it was challenging to put in systems that made the district where it is now. The most important thing was to find qualified educators to have a quality education. In terms of appointments, I never compromise. Secondly, the involvement of parents has worked for us,” she said.
Kekana runs Tshwane South like a welloiled machine. Every two weeks she holds circuit meetings with all teachers in the district. Once a month she hosts meetings with parents who, at the start of the year, are given the year’s programme to help guide their kids.
According to Kekana, regular meetings with parents are used to explain their role in the success of the learners.
But a sweeping change for Kekana was to transform how township schools were run before 2o11. “Township schools were the worst-performing in the district at that time. They were neglected.”
For her strategy to uplift township schools to work, she needed buy-in from principals.
“When I first got here, the principals’ meetings were not taken seriously. So I changed the direction of those meetings. I don’t go to those meetings to address policy issues only. We motivate each other. Offer direction on certain day-to-day challenges that come with running a school,” she said.
Under her leadership, schools such as Bokgoni – once called Gauteng’s worst-performing school – have remarkably improved their pass rate. From a 32% pass rate in 2016 to 88% in 2020, Bokgoni has become one of the most sought-after schools in Atteridgeville.
In 2019, the school had a 100% pass rate for the first time in its history.
Although she retires at the end of March, Kekana leaves behind an incredible body of work and will continue to mentor district directors in parts of the country. It is thanks to committed civil servants such as Kekana that learners like Mmolai can look forward to a brighter future.
In the coming weeks, he will start his pharmacy studies at the University of the Witwatersrand. “I want to own a pharmacy one day open to serving my community,” he
says. DM168
When the bell struck 2.20pm, signalling the end of a school day at Bloemhof Girls’ High School in Stellenbosch, Thina Gabavana would run to read her books. It was her routine. Out of class, to her room, with the books, until midnight – or later. She was running to recount and make sense of the day. It was a strategic plan, for survival.
Gabavana is one of the pool of matriculants who received their National Senior Certificate (NSC) results this week, on 23 February.
The matriculant, a mother tongue isiXhosa speaker, joined the Model C Afrikaans girls’ high school in 2016, after receiving a scholarship from the network the MAD Leadership Foundation. At that time, she spoke little to no Afrikaans.
“Ja, nee en dankie, was her only vocabulary,” says principal Wilna van Heerden. Gabavana became an alumnus of the Afrikaans school with an overall aggregate of 80.83% and left the school hall on Tuesday, fluent in Afrikaans.
Each year, when the results are released, stories about the youngsters who walk out of the NSC examinations with stellar results are lauded. Heads turn. Classmates cheer.
It was no different this year. But the 2020 results came with greater hoorays as the figures rolled in under the dark shadow of a global pandemic that disrupted the academic year.
In 2015, Gabavana had taken up the opportunity for enrolment at Bloemhof in the Cape Winelands town at the foot of the Stellenbosch Mountain, more than 50km away from her home in Khayalitsha on the Cape Flats of Cape Town.
“I remember the first day, the prefects, everyone spoke Afrikaans, and I remember the reality sinking in … I remember thinking, ‘Oh. My. Goodness,’” Gabavana recalls. “I couldn’t hear a word they were saying, I started to doubt this decision I made [to come to the school].”
For Gabavana, the language barrier triggered alienation. It wasn’t that the “predominantly white” and Afrikaans school wasn’t supportive or considerate. They were, she says. But communication is how people live, says Gabavana.
“I felt like people had to compromise. I had to be the exception in a conversation.”
According to Gabavana’s sister Lindiswa, Gabavana would often call her crying. Lindiswa remembers comforting her sister after a sports day at the school where everyone was singing Afrikaans liedjies, which left her feeling excluded. Such culture shock, for someone from a completely different reality in Khayelitsha, hit hard for Gabavana.
“In Stellenbosch, everything is so different,” she says about the town that epitomises Afrikaans culture. People did things differently in the school hostel she stayed in. People spoke differently. It was draining.
“For five days, you are with people who are totally different, they have a different way of living, and then you come home and you are again in a different environment,” Gabavana says. “You have to switch the brain completely.”
Gabavana lived for a time between places. She says it took a year to feel comfortable in what felt like a totally strange universe.
At the high school itself, the educators and learners work at a very fast pace, explains Van Heerden.
“Thina’s academic backlog together with the language barrier could be a big problem.
I asked her if I could phone the English-medium school next door, but she insisted:
‘No, thank you, Ma’am, I want to be at Bloemhof,’”
Van Heerden remembers the conversation five years ago.
Gabavana was determined to stay at the school. She was determined to succeed there. She stayed.
“In the last five years Thina worked without stop. I had to call her in and asked her to take some time off to relax. The girls in the hostel, the teachers, her mentor at MAD, everybody supported her,” Van Heerden says.
According to Gabavana, success is relative. That 80% aggregate was her success, because that was what she had set out to achieve for herself.
But before Gabavana attained her A-mark, it was about understanding a language of instruction and relearning things herself.
“I had to learn that my success doesn’t look the same for the person sitting next to me. I am the one who is in charge of my success, I am the only one who knows what success looks like to me,” she says.
Still, Gabavana’s success is about more than personal gusto; it says something about the status quo.
“In the bigger picture, this can be a wakeup call to our South Africa that we can work together. You know Bloemhof – let’s be honest – is predominantly white, and me being able to be at Bloemhof, and survive in Bloemhof, shows that as South Africans, if we have perseverance, if we set our minds on something, we can [succeed],” she says.
“It doesn’t mean that success will happen overnight – in this case, a few years. It might take a bit long, but if we all have hope in our country, then in the end we can work together,” says Gabavana, who plans on pursuing a political future for herself, starting at the University of Cape Town this year. When DM168 went with Gabavana to her old school, it was easy to tell that she was well loved there.
“Thina! Hoe gaan dit? Hoe was die punte?” “Thinaaa, jy’s terug.” “Thina, almal praat van jou.”
Indeed, Gabavana has set an example, both for her niece, who wants to be “just like” her aunt, Lindiswa says, and for her old school.
“Thina sets an example for those who might think Bloemhof wants one-size-fits-all, that every square peg must fit in a round hole,” Van Heerden remarks. “She is respected for never giving up. She is popular, with her infectious laugh and broad smile. She is being loved for being different, for being herself.”
Sometimes my mom would not have the money for me to buy data and I would ask my cousin. If he too could not help, I would go chill at our local park that has Wi-Fi and download all my learning
materials from there
I had to learn that my success doesn’t look the same for the person
sitting next to me. I am the one that is in charge of my success, I am the only one who knows what success
looks like to me