Be the Curator of your Life — Dedicated to Sizwe Jacques Mbebe

You might know much about me. I call a lot of people Kings because that is my way of saying that I see you or respect you. Life has a way of showing flames and also showing waterfalls. Is that not the beauty of life? I reflect.

At times, I would ask others, my team or Sebz, to give article ideas, but for this one I thought I needed to write it myself because it is personal.

I am on a high now, but others forget I was once at my low. Now I can be of help to others. So I am a product of being put on, or helped — ndincediwe ngaanye abaDlali nam. Abantu who believed in me, expecting nothing in return.

Last week I was in mosey mode, finished writing code. I reflected and thought there is something I need to write on this platform, and thought of a Boi (by that I mean a younger man) that impacted my life. His name is Sizwe.

I met this guy when he was much younger back then. He is from Cape Town. He is short. He was unassuming about me. He did not even see my 323i Motorsport. He treated me with respect. This was way back, maybe 15 years ago. We spoke for a moment, and I thought to myself, “This man is cool.” By cool, I mean how, when I saw him in Gugulethu, it was how older men my age treated him even though he was younger than us then. I was interested and wondered, I need to speak to this man alone. Opportunity, as fate says, did not avail itself.

As fate would have it, I went to Germany for work in Waldorf, and later I was going to go for romance with my then lover in Frankfurt am Main. I can mention her name here (she is married now, life), but I paid for that trip, I digress. I was supposed to fly back to OR Tambo, yet decided to fly to Cape Town because of work. As all that know me in Cape Town, I have to go to Gugulethu (Gugs). Mzoli was hot then. Then I met the young man again, Jacques. He called me Bhuti.

Okay, it reminded me of our first encounter. Fate has it that he remembered me with his wide smile. He said, “Yah, Grootie, ndiyakukhumbula Mdlali.” I was like, yoh, he knows me. I told him about my trip to Germany with my then girlfriend. I tried to impress him with the only German I knew back then: “Danke schön.” This young man, after my one German phrase, burst out laughing and continued to speak to me in fluent German. I was impressed and embarrassed at the same time.

We left it there and exchanged numbers. There was Mixit then, not WhatsApp. I linked up with my then future wife in Port Elizabeth. I told her the story about this young brother I met. Guess what she says: “Haibo Baby, ndiyaazi u Jacques.” On her side, she also had similar stories of respect.

I then left corporate to pursue the dreams I am living now. Like any uncalculated startup, I failed. I went to Johannesburg to reframe — no friends, no nothing. The same German-speaking Xhosa boy calls me three years later: “Ta Lindro, it’s Jacques Mdlali.” Now I am digging into my proverbial database to think who is calling me in my hour of need, kanti it’s the same boy. He said he heard I was in Jozi and asked if I would like to come watch a soccer game in Soweto he had tickets for us.

I had a rental. He gave me directions. I told him I had petrol only. Turns out the same man is working for media for Moroka Swallows, one of the best football teams at the time. Turns out my ticket was not random. I was at the booth with food, wine, and drinks with executives. He said to one of the staff members, “Please take a picture with me and Ta Lindro.” I was honoured that day. I slept like a baby that night. Guys, this man introduced me to Siyabonga Nomvethe at Dobsonville Stadium.

We did not link up since he left Jozi. Fast forward again, I am penniless, still trying this what I have achieved now. Now it is 2015, maybe 2014. A friend of mine and I drove to Cape Town to find shelter or find ourselves. Still driving my black Beemer.

Boom, here is this Boi Sizwe Mbebe. He said after so many years, “This is a private event actually. I need a favour. Our guest of honour is not here. Please go fetch him in your car. The address: Ajax Football Club.”

I was like, what, Ajax? I was like a football star being fetched by me. Honour again, Sizwe.

Turns out I was fetching a great footballer, Cecil Lolo (RIP). We lost one.

On part 2 of this article, I will share another 2 stories about jazz between Mdlali and Lindro, also when he gave me twins.

This is dedicated to Mdlali Sizwe. Gugs phakama, kwa Gqeberha phakama, phakama Mdlali, and shout out ECLIVES.

Article written by Lindikaya Ntshinga

Written by admin