The Sun Will Always Rise

By Vivian Bri Masuku

This book is a reflection of my life and how I had to make tough decisions that make me who I am today. I am an advocate for conscious living and are in tune with my life now. As a child, you grow up with the hope and wish that your life will be perfect. Think about the moments when you couldn’t wait to get out of your parent’s home to start your own family. Imagine all the plans you made and then question how many of those did you follow through on.
Family is the most important aspect of one’s life and it will be in moments of darkness that will bring much needed light and support. I spend quite a bit of time in the book talking about the support that my husband has given me and how over the years, I have grown to love and appreciate him.
The nostalgia of our childhood memories spark a lot of excitement as I narrate my life story because like most adults, how many times do we wish we could go back and start from scratch. My view is that we can’t start from scratch but can affect a better ending. All it takes a positive affirmation every day and not only that but believe and act your own beliefs too. That is how we keep going.
I spend a considerable amount of time talking about my past challenges (ranging from being bullied to losing my one and only sister and my sicknesses and how I overcame even the worst critics. I mention in the book that I suffer from 3 conditions namely Brain tumor(fully recovered), epilepsy and lupus. I am one person who self-motivates and I will take you through how I defied the odds and completely proved doctors wrong.
I am believer, I love the Lord and during this time, I have come to rely on Him more and have learned that no matter what anyone can say, God has the final say, He knows our tomorrow and He really prepares a table before us in front of our enemies.
I will take you through my journey with the hope that even if you don’t suffer the same fate as me, you can use some of the anecdotes I share to improve certain areas of your life. The aim of this book is to show you that a human spirit, in the right frame of mind, with the solid support, can traverse even the worst of situations you find yourself in. This book is very dear to me and as such, my prayer is that you find something you can use to improve the quality of your life. If I can help you achieve something significant, then my wish for writing this book will be completed. I wish you a good life and remember that if you have a good family structure, you are blessed.
“People who encourage us motivate us but it is more the people who don’t believe in us that motivate us even more”
Bri Masuku

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vivian Bri Masuku
• Release date: Mar 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9780620736152

Book preview

Foreword

By Romeo Hanyani Mabasa

As a life coach, I often talk to people who mostly appreciate life too late. Most of us wait for a:

 Life-threatening experience

 Accident

 Botched or successful hi-jacking

 Funeral of extended families (where we recover too quickly)

 Funeral of our close family members (I separate the two because the mourning and reflections are different)

 Job loss

 Bankruptcy

…and the list goes on.

When we start evaluating our priorities, one of the most interesting facts is how during any of the atrocities of life, family is the first point of call. Now imagine someone who doesn’t have a close relationship with his or her family, and when during this time, loneliness becomes the order of the day. I am inspired by the story of Bridgette who, despite the odds, chose to live and make the most of her life, and hence this book. Her story will help you understand how certain ills which life throws at us don’t have to be our end, but can rather be an inspiring story to help us, in turn, to inspire others. I remember how when I took on this project to help her pen this book, the journey changed my life and one thing I take from this experience is that if I can always choose one thing in my life, I CHOOSE TO LIVE my life with no excuses and apologies.

You will enjoy reading this book, and what more can I say, except: Here’s to a fulfilled life! – Romeo Hanyani Mabasa.

Bridgette asked me to review her book, The Sun Will Always for the purpose of writing a review/preview for her. I went into it immediately because I was captured by its title. Once I started, I could not put it down. As I delved deeper into the book, my reason for reading it changed. I continued to read it because of what it was doing to me. It was healing me.

There are moments in life when we feel sorry for ourselves. Moments when we think what we are experiencing is worse than what others are going through. This book will definitely change how you perceive your problems. You will start being grateful realising how minute your problems compared to what Bridgette has gone through. You will be inspired to fight on. Her resilience, her courage will challenge you to keep fighting in this complex game of life.

Yes, she is open and frank about the moments of weakness through her ordeal. We all experience such moments. Moments when our faith is tested until we ask; why me? I am glad she wrote this book to help you and I to appreciate life more. I thank Bridgette for reassuring us that The Sun Will Always Rise.

Part 1

Growing Up

1

My Childhood

When I was born my mom named me Bridgitt. When my father went to have the birth certificates made he put the names Mpolokeng and Vivian. I do not like my official names, and anyway, how many of us really love our official African names? In fact I am reminded of names which were popular when we were growing up, such as:

 Matlakala (Rubbish)

 Matlhomola (Sadness)

 Dikeledi (Tears)

 Oupa, mostly referred to as The O, Obzen, (Grandfather)

 Ouma (Grandmother)

 Hlupeka (Suffer)

 Kedibone ( I have seen them, which in this case refer to things)

 Masheleng (Shillings).

Mpolokeng has two meanings, one of which is ‘bury me’, which is what most people think when they hear the name, while the second is ‘protect me’, which is my father’s mom’s name, and Vivian is my mom’s sister’s. You may well ask yourself why African parents name their children such horrible names, but times have changed and today’s names are just awesome, such as:

 Tumelo (Faith)

 Tshegofatso (Blessing)

 Ontshiametse (God is good to me)

 Gontlafetse (It’s beautiful)

 Bontle (Beauty)

 Kgalalelo (Glory)

 Thoriso (Praise)

 Tshepo (Hope)

 Paballo (Protection)

 Kagiso (Peace).

The list is endless. To this day I do not understand and I am not in favour of naming a child after someone. I don’t understand the reasoning behind it. Each and every one of my siblings has been named after someone, some of whom we do not even know. I truly believe it’s a curse and I have my reasons, which I am not willing to share. If you also do that, I highly respect your choices too.

At first people called me Bridgitt but as I was growing up I came across the name Bridgette. I liked it better than Bridgitt so I started telling people that I am Bridgette. It is a decision I regretted as I found Bridgitt to be scarcer these days. In a way it does not matter now as the people I am close to call me Bri.

I was born on the 3rd of December 1974 in a hospital in what was formerly known as Lady Selbourne in Pretoria. In 1960 black citizens were removed from the suburb of Lady Selbourne in Pretoria to Atteridgeville, Ga-rankuwa, Mabopane and Soshanguve. My father’s mom was moved to Mamelodi.

Mamelodi was established in 1953. It is situated about 20 km east of the city of Pretoria (now known as Tshwane). The Group Areas Act designated Mamelodi as a blacks only area. It started with a mere 16 houses built on the farm called Vlakfontein for black people, and was later changed to Mamelodi. The oldies call it ‘Vlaka’.The name Mamelodi means ‘mother of melodies’, derived from the name given to the then president Paul Kruger by black people because of his unusual ability to whistle and imitate birds.

2

My Family

I am the third of four children, my sister Ellaonah, my brother Dan and a younger brother Bradley. My father is physically a very strong man. He is a man of integrity, a righteous man, a father in the true sense of the word and a hard worker who took care of his family. We were one of the first people to get a TV, those beta videos and a land-line. He was very strict. We were expected to be home by 6 o’clock and to go to church every Sunday. His origin is Polokwane (formerly known as Pietersburg) Ga-Matlala.

Although we were afraid of him, he was never one to consistently beat his children. He beat me only once when I got home after six. At home we had two fruit trees, peach and apricot trees, and some grapevines. He used the branches of a grapevine to beat me. He told me to stretch out my hand, hit me twice but then when I pretended to cry, he stopped. I am the only child to whom he has given a hiding. He also didn’t like us swearing.

In Mamelodi when things are bad you would say ‘go a nyewa’, which basically means people are ‘shitting’. When we were growing up we did not understand the meaning. For example, I would be narrating to my father about something that had happened yesterday, and would add that people were ‘shitting’ in the sentence. He would remind me that it’s not a word that is acceptable, but did not explain why he did not want us to use that word. We only understood it much later. He is very proud of who he is and very proud of what we have become.

Although we were afraid of him there were moments where we had a laugh with him. He used to buy sweets and put them in his pockets, and then when we were sitting together as a family he would take out one sweet and pop it into his mouth. We would all get excited and beg him for sweets, and he would finally give us some. One day he bought what he thought were sweets, but they were Rennies for heartburn. He popped one into his mouth as I was about to ask him for one, my older sister realized what they were, we laughed at him for the whole week.

As I have mentioned earlier, there was also a grapevine in the yard. During those years nearly each and every house had a fruit tree. During spring the tree produces green caterpillars. My father would get one caterpillar and tell us to gather around him. He would use his index finger and thumb to hold the caterpillar. Then he would say ‘where is Bridgitt?’, and the worm would point to me. Then, ‘where is Ellaonah?’ and the worm would change its direction to my sister. I don’t know how he did it, but we grew up believing the caterpillars knew our names. Although I still don’t know how he did it, I do know now that the caterpillars could not have known us by name.

All in all, my father was a good father, a father I could talk to. I remember one day I was just fed up with my mum and I told my father that one day I was going to beat up my mother, but he didn’t overreact and just reasoned with me.

My mother is an honest woman who hails from deep in Rustenburg, from a place called Dwarsberg. If you know the Tswana people you would know that they speak their minds and call a spade a spade. She always confronts issues, and these are traits I inherited from her. She was a seamstress and we were never short of clothes when we were young. Unlike my father my mom used to beat us all the time, even unnecessarily so.

I remember one day when we were sitting under the peach tree. I had a jug of water and I wanted a drink from it, but my brother took the water by force, drank it and then gave it back to me to drink. I said I didn’t want the water anymore. My mom just stood up, took a branch from the tree and whipped me for not wanting water. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t grow up close to my mother because we were afraid of her. She was what we call tšhobolo, the tšh pronounced ch, meaning always shouting and scolding. The last time my mom gave me a hiding was when I decided to just stand there while she was whipping me. That did the trick. What I liked about my mom though, was when I was older my friends loved her. They used to come to my home literally every day, and even when I was not at home they would sit and chat with her.

When I was about 20 years of age we used to fight all the time because I could tell her when she was wrong. She used to say, Waitsi wena Bridgitt o masepa (‘You are a piece of shit’), which is normal language for the Tswana people but it didn’t hurt me. One of my favourites was: Ge nkabe ke itsitse gore o nna masepa a kana nkabe ke go ntse ka mosamelo (‘If I had known that you’ll be such a piece of shit I would have sat on top of you with a pillow’).

Now that I am a woman she’s my pillar. She is everything a daughter could ask for in a mother, and we find her funny. For instance, we went to a funeral in Dwarsberg not so long ago. There we met someone she hadn’t seen in over 40 years. The granny had a baby on her back. They were happy to see each other after such a long time, and then my mom said, "Ngwana o wa tlhogo e kima o ke mang?" (‘Who’s this baby with a big head?’). Where I come from you do not say these things because they are offensive. But the granny was not offended. I love my mom to bits - she’s all I have except for my husband.

We were taught respect at a very young age by both our parents. My father insisted that we call my sister ‘sesi’ (‘sister’), my brother ‘abuti’ (‘brother’), and that my younger brother call me ‘ausi’ (another name for sister). The latter did not happen because my younger brother and I were such good friends. My mother insisted that we call each and every older woman ‘Mma’ (‘Mother’) and older man ‘Pa’. We grew up doing that to such an extent that I cringe at the sound of someone younger calling me by my name. When someone calls you by your name, you wouldn’t say ‘huh?’ like today’s generation. You would answer accordingly, and if it were someone older than you, you would say ‘Mma’ or ‘Ausi’, depending on the age of the person who was calling you. You were supposed