Speaking from the Heart

By Josh wa Maoto

By presenting an autobiographical narration of his life, author Josh wa Maoto seeks to reveal how God has demonstrated His love and mercy for him. His childhood life might have seemed to be smooth sailing on the surface, but the reality was tougher than it appeared. His road was full of bumps, and he owes it all to God. In fact, Maoto believes God designed his life that way intentionally in order to show His true nature of providence to the world.

Although the names of people, places, and businesses have been changed, Speaking from the Heart shares the true story of Maoto’s life experiences. His aim is to inspire hope in the many hopeless young men and women who have been neglected by their parents. His goal is to help these young people continue to dream big and work beyond minimum expectations. As long as we trust in the general goodness of humanity as an extension of Jehovah’s true nature of providence, victory is certain for the faithful.

This personal narrative and testimony uses the lens of faith to recall one man’s life history growing up and coming of age in South Africa in the midst of apartheid.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: May 5, 2020
• ISBN: 9781728352084

Josh wa Maoto

Josh wa Maoto was born in South Africa and currently lives i n Emalahleni.

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Copyright © 2020 Josh wa Maoto. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 07/19/2021

ISBN: 978-1-7283-5209-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-5208-4 (e)

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Unless otherwise indicated, all scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version® (ESV®). Copyright ©2001 by Crossway Bibles, a division of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations marked NKJV are taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Dedication

Foreword

Introduction

Chapter 1    Humble Beginnings

Chapter 2    Be Adventuresome

Chapter 3    Desire A Better Life

Chapter 4    Endure with Humility

Chapter 5    Forgive Others

Chapter 6    Stay Optimistic

Chapter 7    Trust in God

Chapter 8    Build Communities

Chapter 9    Honor All Adults

Chapter 10    Invest in Your Youth

Chapter 11    Live By Faith

Chapter 12    Keep Your Focus

Chapter 13    Respect Every Fellow

Chapter 14    Manage Disappointments

Chapter 15    Handle Your Fears

Chapter 16    Believe in God

Chapter 17    Connect with People

Chapter 18    Be Generous

Chapter 19    Victimized by Politics

Chapter 20    Celebrate Success

Chapter 21    Be Grateful

Glossary

Dedication

My loving and sympathetic thoughts are on:

All the women who endured, or are enduring atrocities of all kinds in the hands of uncaring men and other figures of authority without resorting to some form of fatal alternatives. Niyimbokodo!

All the children and the youth who are fatherless, or are suffering some sort of paternal neglect while their fathers are enjoying the goodness of this life. Hold on to your dreams and work while praying, minding that the sun will soon shine on you. By the way, you are the future of your nations

and

All the South Africans and peoples of other nationalities, who lost their loved ones or suffered the loss of anything - and I mean anything - as a result of the application and defense of draconian laws by oppressive and segregationist governments. Your loss was not in vain

Foreword

A sigh of fresh air permeates my space after thoroughly sifting through the manuscript of this great treasure before it could be pressed into a palatable, revealing piece of African art.

Traditionally, the place where one’s umbilical cord was cut determines one’s future direction as what wise men say: Life has taught us that we may not define a child by his/her state of poverty. Children are in transit – they are between their home backgrounds and into whatever the future might direct them to, and that is the author’s unwavering testimony.

I wouldn’t normally and publicly praise the book I’m critiquing, but, in the case of these enthusiastic readers who devour books as if they were gorgeous smart lovers, I’m making an exception.

Any reader will be swept away by this useful author’s life sojourn through his childhood dilemmas – a disconcerting book – a book for young adults and adults alike, rather than younger children who could certainly read it with understanding and appropriately mounting expectations. Each chapter salivates the reader with its own unique WOW factor.

As a parting short, dear reader, I conclude by quoting Hudson Taylor: You can work without praying, but that is rather a bad plan. You will, however, never be able to pray seriously without working

Alfred Jabulani ‘Russia’ Masina

Introduction

The truth that we are all going to die one day, is enough evidence that we are guests in this world. If so then, how we live our lives today, is the way we speak about God to the world. In living our lives, we either shame God or we praise Him for all the good He has been, is or is to be to us. The survivals, successes and achievements we make are speeches about how He loves and cares for us, whilst our unaccounted for meet ends, speak about His true nature of providence. Our narrow escapes from accidents, ailments and attacks by beasts, people and powers of darkness are revelations that indeed He is our shield. The victories we make speak of how God organizes His heavenly army and equips them with divine ammunition to win battles for us. We, therefore, ought to live our life in such a way that it is not only speaking well of God, but that it seeks more to glorify Him as well.

When we live our life recklessly or in ways that are contrary to God’s desire as revealed in His commandments, precepts and laws, we are in fact shaming Him as we please the adversary and his agents by doing so.

By this autobiographical narration of my life, I aim at revealing to everyone who lays hand on the book how God demonstrated His love and mercy on my life. My childhood life may seem to have been a plain sailing to many who do not know me intimately or at least from childhood. It is not so. It has been tough, it has been humpy, it has been bumpy but never rosy, and I owe it all to God. I believe He designed it to be like that so that, through it, He could demonstrate His true nature of providence to the world.

For that demonstration to become manifest on the knowledge of all who are and still to be, it required me as first hand witness and primary source to put it on paper for all, not just to read and appreciate but most importantly, to come on board His salvation plan. To those who find themselves in situations similar to mine as revealed in the book, it also serves as encouragement to say to you: ‘the burden is not yours. Just do your little part by seeking after His righteousness, and apply the principles demonstrated in the book, and leave the rest to the omnipotent God who will set you free.’

1

Humble Beginnings

"While it is true that no one can choose a

starting point in life, it is certainly true that

we are all masters of our own destinies."

What we become in life is as a direct result of our choices, and what we do with them. We choose from what government, society, church, school, friends, relatives and family members put before us. The manner in which we embrace or abhor that which is put before us by these persons and institutions, determines our choices at present and what becomes of us later in life. This is the reason I say while it is true that no one can choose a starting point in life, it is certainly true that we are all masters of our own destinies. For anyone to successfully master their own destiny requires thorough knowledge and acceptance of one’s starting point without faking or feeling ashamed of it. Feeling ashamed of one’s lowly and humble starting point only has the potential of reducing chances for one to break loose and master the future. Faking your beginnings – pretending to have been born with a silver spoon in your mouth when in fact you had the humblest of beginnings – fools your mind to live comfortably with such lies so that you do nothing to change the circumstances. It is the speaker’s knowledge and acceptance of his lowest beginnings that enabled his mind to shape and fashion his route in life, so that he was able to break loose and thus master his destiny.

EKUTHULENI is a small village formerly set aside for habitation by the African and the Coloured communities of Signal Hill town. Signal Hill, formally established for whites and Indians habitation and trading, lies along the road connecting Witbank to Nelspruit. It is in this town village that the guest speaker was born in 1962.

I started knowing the guest speaker in 1967 towards the close of the year when he was five years of age. He was playing outside, in front of his grandfather’s kitchen door, when he suddenly got attracted to an old, deserted tin bucket that was lying nearby. He organized the 20 litre container in such a way that the opening was facing upwards. He sat on it as if believing that his hip-muscles were big enough, or the round opening of the tin was small enough for him to sit on its brim without falling inside, only to discover that they were too small to serve his intended desire. As he was trying to do that, he fell into the bucket by the butts so that his thighs lay parallel with, and remained attached to the front of his upper body. His legs remained hanging out over the bucket brim. After struggling in vain to free himself of the self-created yoke, he shouted for help. His grandfather, mkhulu Goje and malume (uncle) Bhala tried to pull away the bucket. They pulled with might in two opposing directions until they finally freed him. Uncle Bhala nearly fell at the end of the process.

Not so long after that ordeal, he went to play by the front gate of the house. The gate was actually an old car door that looked too skeletal on the inside, which used to be covered by a panel board. The holes on the inner plate of the door were of varying sizes and shapes, if you know a dilapidated car door in a scrap yard. He apparently fitted his head into one of the holes to check if it could go through. To his surprise, it went through but could not be released back. Again, he had to shout for help. Mkhulu and uncle Bhala had to rush to the scene to release him.

If you think that was the end, you are mistaken. Not so many days after the two incidents, he went to play by the front gate again.

It was just in the afternoon when he came to the front left corner of the house, admiring a slice of fresh white bread in his hand, which he had received from his aunt, Bavumile, his mother’s sister at Mkhulu’s command.

As he admired the piece of bread, he felt drowsy and somnambulated until he came to a standstill. When he returned to reality, he beheld a white calf with a few big brown spots on its body, standing and staring at him. Thinking that it was laughing at his somnambulist behaviour, he shouted at it in Zulu saying: Hamba! Hamba! Hamba! (Meaning Go! Go! Go!) After he had said so for the third time, Bondrok, the calf approached with great vigour as if she had heard what was said. She jacked him high by the stomach with her head so that he lay flat in between her moon-shaped middle-sized horns. She shook him a little, taking care that he did not fall. As he screamed to the top of his voice, Mkhulu came running to the rescue of his grandson. Bondrok shook him for the second and last, and threw him up into the air with such might such that he fell hard on the ground. Then, she stared at Mkhulu as if saying: This little lad of yours must watch out. That was the day when he learned to respect animals, and to acknowledge that they, too, have senses and emotions.

After rescuing him, Mkhulu and Malume inspected his whole body to ascertain that he did not incur injuries. Then, Malume picked up his full slice of bread from the ground, dusted it by beating it against the palm of his hand, and gave it back to him

The economic situation of the town was such that there was a lack of employment. Now, the unmarried speaker’s mother was working in Johannesburg. She would come home only in the middle of December with clothes and Christmas gifts for her daughter and two sons. This is the reason why the speaker, his elder brother Boi and sister Nomasonto were residing in their maternal grandfather’s household as members of the extended family.

Now, the family house was situated at a corner. At the oblique corner on the right, was a house of a rich Shoba family that was kind and generous. Although Mr. Shoba worked as a septic tank vacuum truck driver for the Municipality, he also operated a taxi and a coal merchandise business. His wife, too, had a food catering business where she prepared breakfast and lunch which she sold to men who worked for the many construction companies that were building Chrome Division, the chrome manufacturing firm which was later to be renamed Manganese Division when it switched over to manufacturing manganese. Every morning, Mrs. Shoba sent her son to go call the speaker and his brother from their grandfather’s household for tea and amagwinya (fatcakes). Sister Nomasonto was not a regular at the Shobas because every morning after doing her chores, she walked to Kwa-Habile, also known as ka gogo Vungandze, her paternal grandmother’s household. She would stay there until it was almost sunset when Uncle Simon would accompany her back to mkhulu Goje’s place. That business of accompanying her back to the Gojes ended when gogo Vungandze (Mrs. Habile) negotiated with mkhulu that Nomasonto permanently joins her household. She rightly believed that she was the only one who could take very good care of her grand-daughter at the time. The speaker and brother Boi remained ka-mkhulu Goje and visited their sister most often ka-gogo Vungandze during the day time.

One December afternoon, the speaker and Boi were playing with other children at the Shobas. Without anybody’s notice, he withdrew himself from the rest of the playmates and went to sit on a stoep that was attached to the house. His heart had grown fonder for his mother whom he had been missing so badly. He suddenly caught everybody’s attention when he broke into singing a self-composed siSwati song with the words:

Makke, Makke buya!

(Mommy, mommy come back)

Makke, Makke buya!

(Mommy, mommy come back)

Ngikutjelile ngats’ ungahambi

(I told you not to go!)

He sang the song repeatedly until the words had disappeared into a sound of a loud and uncontrollable cry, with tears making clean tracks down his dusty cheeks. After trying in vain to soothe him, brother Boi who also had stopped playing to attend to his younger brother’s condition, abandoned him and went back to rejoin the others in play.

As he stood crying on the earthen bench, facing the sun that masqueraded like a peacock, walking braggingly to its usual place of rest, he beheld two human figures.

The reflection of the sunrays on his tearful eyes obscured his view so that he could not clearly see who they were. All he could see, was a picture - a silhouette in motion - portraying a woman with luggage on her head and in her right hand, and a three-year-old boy walking alongside her whom she was holding by the left hand. As the shadows came closer and his vision improved, he jumped off the earthen bench and ran towards them. It was his mother, three-year-old brother Gift and a less than a year-old baby-boy Given whom he did not know until that day. Given was on his mother’s back. Oh, the joy of being reunited with your mother whom you have been missing for almost a year! He welcomed them with mixed emotions of joy and jealousy, even though the scale weighed heavier on the former.

Considering the emotional condition of the speaker just before the appearance of his mother and brothers on that day, you surely have to believe that indeed coming events do cast their shadows before them. Was it telepathy? Well, no one can tell at this stage. The speaker became the happiest in January 1968 on discovering that his mother was not going back to Johannesburg. Instead, she had decided to look for a low-paying employment around the little town for the sake of her children, and luckily, found one with the management of Elands Hotel right in the heart of the town. Now, the whole family except Gift and Given who were taken back to Soweto, Johannesburg for lack of day care facilities in the area, remained within the household of Mkhulu Goje, which was popularly known as ka- Malaza. The joy of being with your mother every day, wait eagerly for her on the road that comes from town every late afternoon, knowing that for sure she is bringing some amanandinandi (niceties)for you, will always remain unsurpassed in the establishment of a lasting mother- child bond.

Minding that Jeannie, as the speaker’s mother was affectionately called around the circles of her favourites, was staying with a step-mother, it was almost uncommon at the time to expect a home environment where a step-child was in good terms with a step-mother among the African families of Mzansi Africa, especially where the step-child was a girl. That was the reason why one evening, Jeannie was forced to pack her luggage and look for an overnight stay at a certain Mavuso family.

That happened after she came from work one evening and found her two sons, the speaker and Boi, sitting outside quietly in the dark, claiming that Gogo had ordered them to go outside after they had told Mkhulu that they were hungry, and had asked for food from him. Jeannie went inside and as she tried to establish the truth, was arrogantly instructed to take her two ‘good for nothing’ offspring and get out of the house. That was how the speaker, his mom and Boi finally left mkhulu Goje’s household. Sis Nomasonto was already staying permanently Kwa gogo Vungandze. When leaving the household, Jeannie was not allowed to take along her cattle that she left at Mkhulus before she went to work in the Golden City. Even if she could have been allowed, she was going to have a problem regarding where to keep them because she was a woman. Unmarried African women did not have property rights yet, at least at my place, ekuThuleni.

The stay at the Mavusos was only for a day to allow her to look for a room elsewhere to rent. Even if they wished to allow her a longer stay, they could not, fearing Mkhulu Goje would fight them, asking who gave them permission to accommodate his daughter and grandchildren. Their fear was not unfounded as it was well-known that when Mkhulu Goje sneezed, the whole village caught a flu. A whole army of his sons and grandson armed with knobkerries, would join him on a punitive expedition against the culprit. When they had begun attacking, people on the side would greatly blame the culprit for having provoked the untouchables. The reason for such blame emanated from the truth that when they were out to attack, everyone was affected, as they closed both ends of the street where the culprit resided. Hey! I can imagine Mkhulu swearing in his anger, saying in his siSwati language: "I will kill a person, my ma hoor my." Now, ‘my ma hoor my’ is an Afrikaans swearing phrase that means ‘I swear by my mother in her grave’

God is very great, you know. On that same evening Jeannie came back and waited for the boys to finish their supper, with the courtesy of the Mavusos, so that she could take them to what was going to be their home, at least, for the next year or so.

When they got to what was a new home for them, they were excited to find that the room was already cleaned and a few pieces of second-hand furniture items arranged. This is the cost of being a mother. No one can ever take the place of a mother. It therefore hurts the speaker much each time he sees a person aggrieving a mother for any reason. There is virtuously no reason for anyone to aggrieve a mother. No reason at all.

Next to the Hoffman homestead where Jeannie had rented a room, was a house of an old teacher named Teacher Sibanyoni. Despite the fact that Teacher Sibanyoni was the only one working in the house, that was a well to do family. His wife – a housewife – needed not to work. The speaker and younger brother, Gift, who visited from his paternal aunt in Soweto during Easter and December holidays, always went to play with Themba, a grandson of Teacher Sibanyoni, who had almost all sorts of toys. Their mother could not afford to buy them even the smallest toy as they were living, not even from hand to mouth, but from fingertip to mouth.

What they liked most was riding Themba’s tricycle, which they rode alternatingly around the table that was in the centre of the kitchen. Nevertheless, they lived, with God’s grace.

The boys fed themselves with the joy of staying with their mother, but did not stop going to play at Mkhulu’s place during each day, minding Jeannie who was working and there was no crèche around. The joy of being with their mother each and every day was complimented by a naturally fulfilling experience. One morning of 1968, the speaker and brother Boi were woken up by their mother to come and witness one of nature’s beautiful surprises. When they got outside, they were excited to see a wonderful marriage between nature and culture, the whitest wedding of decades to come. Everything was covered in snow. When they woke up, fire was already burning and the little multipurpose room that served as a kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, dining room and seating room was already warm. Having been led outside, they could not afford saving their breath without releasing sighs of appreciation and excitement at the beauty of nature. As they appreciated the morning outside, they were greeted by a couple dressed in snow-white and matched with the surrounding. These were two snow statues moulded by their loving and caring mother. Oh! What a wonderful experience of joyfully running around in the snow with your mother watching with happiness. The experience was from time to time interjected by intervals of being called into the room, firstly for a cup of tea and amagwinya, and later for hot soup. The speaker and brother Boi really had fun playing with three other boys from the main house, under the watchful eye of a caring mother.

In December 1970, a fifth son and last-born child arrived in the speaker’s family, greeting the word in style.

What actually happened was that the speaker’s mother, who was highly expectant, sent him and Gift who was visiting with his father, to the shop to buy a litre of Coca-Cola and a packet of 20 Lexington cigarettes. On their way, they saw an airoplane flying lower towards their home direction.

Operating under the myth that babies come by airoplane, they concluded that it was the one that was to deliver their nine months long awaited baby sibling. Then, they started running to the shop and back home. Surprise, surprise! When they reached home, they found uncle September sitting outside the house, unusually alone when Jeannie was not busy cleaning or cooking. They were disappointed to note that they were not allowed to enter the one-roomed house. An old lady received the stock through the upper piece of the stable door that was half-opened from uncle September. Uncle September had intercepted their swift walk into the house and received the items on their mother’s behalf. Uncle September Milatu, who stayed in Soweto, was young brother Gift’s father. He and Gift came to visit at Signal Hill only on Easter and festive or Christmas holidays.

As they handed the parcels over to the gentleman, they heard a baby crying. Then, they jumped around in joy, like galloping calves around their mother-cow after they had been sucking milk, telling everyone that they saw the airoplane that brought baby-brother Nhlanhla.

Immediately after New Year’s Day, uncle September and Gift left for Soweto, near Johannesburg as usual. Little Given was always left with Jeannie, as he still needed the mother’s love and care, like every young child of his age. Gift was already attending crèche and could therefore not be left behind, as there was not one in the little village of ekuThuleni.

Then, it happened in the next Easter Holidays that Uncle September and Gift visited as usual. When they left at the end of the holidays, the gentleman promised to see them again in the beginning of the next winter holidays. When winter set in, they all waited for them in anticipation but to no avail. When the holidays ended, everyone discovered that they had been waiting for a rainless cloud. One month-end followed another until the hope that they would ever return was shuttered after two years. It was only seven and a half hours after sunset one night when a car stopped outside. Uncle September and Gift walked in. Suddenly, the situation turned tense in the house. Instead of joy and happiness, anger and temperament rose high. The speaker noticed when Given’s sleep got interrupted by Jeannie’s loud cry, complaining about the man’s disappearance and failure to even write a piece of message of greetings, or sending her some money during his absence. Jeannie disallowed uncle September from putting under the roof even for a night. After pleading in vain with Jeannie, the gentleman opened the door and walked out. Nobody knew where