Confidence to Earn: How My Halitosis Almost Ruined My Earning Potential

By Khumoetsile Thabo-Nawa

Well, that was my life years back.

Through this book my mission is to offer solace to people from all walks of life suffering from the many different issues affecting their self-confidence and self-esteem. It is a painful experience to witness your level of confidence declining to a point where you feel like dying.

First we need to acknowledge that confidence is the corner stone of our survival. A confident person is able to withstand any life pressures. Anything that destabilises our confidence will consequently have a negative impact on our earning potential and ultimately our wealth-building capability

Different life challenges I have traversed through shaped my self-confidence in one way or the other and most importantly influenced my relationship with money, my ability to earn and to hold onto my money. Learn how I overcame these issues which I deem as life temporary and necessary setbacks. The issues I faced range from:

•My chaotic living state with my alcoholic father.
•Being labeled a witch by the entire village.
•Dealing with halitosis.
•Bouncing back from devastating financial hardship to building real wealth.
•Finding my purpose in the midst of my challenges to become a financial Educator.

Show me a person who dismisses or underplays the significance of confidence in our lives and I will show you a certain loser.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Khumoetsile Thabo-Nawa
• Release date: Jun 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005128548

Book preview

Acknowledgements

My deep appreciation to my mother from whom I learnt to be an independent woman. I can never thank you enough.

Thank you to Dominic Katonto for the countless hours you spent editing my rough work and giving it more meaning without losing its original context.

To Reach Publishers South Africa, you have been an incredible team with whom to work. Sian Sigamoney, thank you for coordinating the design aspects of this book from cover design to the final layout. Elanie Bieldt thank you for your patience and the amazing illustration you delivered for the book cover. Sally Veenman and Francois Rabe thank you for your brilliant editing.

A special thanks to my family for the hours you have allowed me to take away from you to write this book. Your support and belief in me is impeccable. To my partner thank you for sharing my vision and your never-ending encouragement.

Finally, my heartfelt thanks to all Money Managers’ followers. In you I have found true accountability partners.

Introduction

Through this book, I share the good and the bad events of my life, how they affected my confidence (which ultimately had an impact on my earning potential), my spending choices, and other life decisions that I had to make. I do acknowledge that money is an essential element of our lives and that anything that threatened my ability to earn, destabilised my life in one way or the other. Isn’t that the case with everybody? Anything that threatens your ability to earn a decent income destabilises your life!

I am not an expert on this subject, but what I have gone through qualified me to share my experience with you. Whatever you are going through, be it childhood issues, health, drugs, relationships or money-related matters, always know that you are not the first and only person who has been down that road. You can overcome it all, just by learning from the failures and successes of those who have.

Like it or not, confidence is the centrepiece of our lives. It is the cornerstone of our survival and livelihood. When you look at the successful people you aspire to be like, you would realise that they have one thing in common – they are confident in their chosen field. They are confident in their ability to defy the odds. We are born confident, but somehow – through either internal or external factors – that confidence declines as we grow up.

My childhood was very eventful. I was a kid who commanded admiration and excelled in my childlike endeavours. I loved my life regardless of the low social economic status that was our reality. I had big dreams and believed in the possibilities of creating my world to be what I wanted it to be. I cannot tell you where the oozing confidence I had, came from, but I believe it was pure and uncorrupted. But then, with growth, came awareness…

I became aware of my socio-economic background, my changing body, my surroundings. My confidence declined with every bit of awareness on any of these. One thing is clear – our upbringing plays a very significant role in our self-esteem and self-confidence.

Now imagine you wake up one morning to be told, Your breath stinks!

Say, what?! That is just what happened to me at the age of 22. My whole world crumbled. My inner being shattered. My social circle diminished by the day and my entire existence became a painful endeavour. I do not wish this on anybody. My intention is to share my life’s journey and to offer solace to someone, somewhere, experiencing similar challenges.

Without wasting any second, let us extinguish the bad breath to reclaim our confidence, to be who we really are meant to be, make all the money we desire to have, and most importantly, channel that money we work so hard for towards further wealth generation. I challenge you to get out of your comfort zone and put yourself out there, knock on different doors and push your boundaries. Open yourself up to learn more and more. Take baby steps. With each step you take, you will gain confidence in your own abilities. It is this confidence that will ultimately enable you to achieve your goals and to reach your fullest potential. It is something we all want. Show me a person who does not want to have confidence!

Part One

My Controversial Childhood

Chapter 1

Starting on Shaky Grounds

I am reliably told that I was named even before I was conceived. Apparently, my father desperately wanted a boy child. Unfortunately, God did things in His own way and a girl child was born. My name was therefore elongated to Khumoetsile from the original Khumo. Even though I am the second-born in the family, my mother is called MmaKhumo. This is a phenomenon that has brought about some sibling rivalry between myself and my elder sister. However, this chapter is now closed as we resolved our differences and learnt to love and embrace one another.

Growing up, my father was a very respected teacher in the small village of Tsau, the original village of the Batawana tribe before they relocated to Maun. Ordinarily, one would presume that because my father was a teacher, I would have enjoyed the privilege and background of a strong primary school education. Anyway, my father earned his respect just by virtue of him being a teacher and a good football player for the village team. On the other hand, my mother was uneducated. She earned a living through menial, informal jobs. Because of the difference in my father’s and mother’s educational levels and economic status, my father got away with everything. It was his word and decisions that counted.

Honestly, I cannot tell you the exact year I started school. I was just my father’s sweetheart, a trophy that he carried around to his classes and everywhere he went. No one questioned his decisions, I guess. The memories I carry are of admiration from his students and fellow teachers. Sometimes his fellow teachers also took me to their classes where I would just sit at their tables in front while they conducted their lessons.

When I was four years old, my father relocated on transfer to another small village. I moved with him, leaving my mother and great-grandmother in Tsau. My family was dysfunctional because of our economic status. We never got to live together as a family. My elder sister lived in Maun with my grandmother while my younger sister lived with my mother’s aunt at a small village near Francistown.

My mother had her first child when she was a teenager. Later I learnt that she fell pregnant at that age because she was raped at the cattle post. It was during her first pregnancy that she relocated from the cattle post to live with her grandmother in Tsau. I was born when she was 21 years old. I was my father’s child and I do not have very profound memories of my mother before the age of four, except once when she visited and the visit ended up in a fight. My father and mother were fighting about me. My father used his economic muscle to claim my guardianship. My devastated mother did not have a voice over me.

I officially started attending classes in Tubu for my standard one year. It was just a struggle for me. Shortly after we settled there, my father turned into an alcoholic. Now, imagine a four-year-old girl living with an alcoholic father in a very remote area. So much was compromised about my security and general welfare. Fridays were my most dreaded day. Tubu is a very remote village with neither shops nor bars, therefore we had to frequent Gumare for food supplies, about 15km away. Every Friday my father would sneak out to Gumare with his friends, leaving me by myself.

I would come home from school in the afternoon to an empty house. There were days I would find food prepared for me, but often there was just no food. I would play by myself until I fell asleep. I was not OK with this pattern of being left behind on weekends, so I also learnt to sneak out from class on Fridays. I would not go back to class after the morning break. I was always on the lookout in the hope that I would see my father leave. Sometimes he would take me with him, which affected my school attendance. So much for a school teacher!

One particular Friday my father did not want to take me with him. I guess this was because they were walking the 15km to Gumare – cars were scarce back then! I followed him, crying so painfully, but he proceeded with his trip until I gave up. I retraced my footsteps to the empty house, only for one sympathetic neighbour – also a teacher – to take me in that night. My school attendance became intermittent and was based on my father’s weekend schedule. I do not recall learning elementary stuff like the alphabet and phonetics.

My teacher at the time, justifying my dismal school performance, said, She’s a very clever girl. It’s just that she needs time. I am sure she was right. Though I could care less, I believe all these positive comments were imprinted in my subconscious mind and reinforced my inborn self-confidence. You know, the mind is such a powerful and weak thing at the same time – you feed it with positivity, and the same positivity will manifest in your life. Now imagine a world where all teachers and parents fed children’s little minds with positivity and self-belief. We would raise very confident children...

There are several factors which could lead to a child’s poor academic performance. My unstable upbringing due to the fights between my parents was the main cause of my delay in mental development and subsequent dismal school performance in my formative years. I was fortunate enough to have more tolerant and patient teachers early in my life. I honestly do not recall any teacher calling me stupid or ridiculing me for not getting concepts right. I made mistakes, lots of them, but gained awareness this way. To this day, I am instilling in my own children that mistakes are a way of learning. I am hopeful that we still have teachers in schools who understand that making mistakes in the process of learning is still ‘learning’. Despite my not-so-good performance in school, my teachers created an environment conducive for me to learn. I remember being praised for my handwriting. Over time, these praises fostered my academic improvement.

Back home, my father’s drinking habits worsened with every passing day. He cared less about whether I had eaten something, done my homework or even where I slept. I made friends with the village kids. On most weekends I would go with them to their homes while my father continued with his drinking spree.

Our children need us as their parents to constantly nurture their inborn confidence. This is the most protective and rewarding thing we as parents can do for our children.

The Confident Child

While staying with my father, I did not have anyone looking after me. I had to bathe myself and iron my school uniform. Most of the time our house was filthy. Sometimes the neighbours would call me out of pity to give me food. I longed and craved for my father’s parental love. I yearned for his attention, but had to make a mental adjustment and accept that my father’s first love was alcohol. I guess word could have reached my mother about my chaotic standard of living with my alcoholic father and the instability in my school attendance. In 1992, I repeated standard one in Tsau Primary School when I relocated to live with my mother and great-grandmother.

It almost seemed like I missed a full year of schooling as I was clueless and drew a blank – I just did not grasp any concepts while in Tubu. I struggled with my studies until I was in standard three. A teacher who had unwavering faith in me suggested that I repeat standard three. My mother agreed with her. Believe me when I tell you that I was a straight-D student! When I started standard one in Tubu in 1991, I was in a class with children born in 1984. When I repeated the same level upon my transfer in Tsau, I was in class with kids born in 1985. One of them was my neighbour. She was a bright child. Her elder sister and cousins would make me the laughing stock of the day by getting me to spell words with her. There were lots of embarrassing moments, but what I know is that I never felt inadequate in any way.

Going back to the teacher who suggested I repeat standard three. She saw potential in me that no one else seemed to see. As a result, she absorbed me in her class. I will forever be grateful and indebted to her and my mother for allowing this to happen. Repeating standard three meant that I now joined children born in 1986. I guess by now you will understand why I ended up changing my birth year to 1986. I wanted to fit in. For a long time I did not celebrate my birthdays because I was uncomfortable with the fact that the known age was not mine exactly.

While I was now back home in Tsau with my poor family, what really mattered was that I was receiving the parental love and care I so much needed from my mother and great-grandmother. We lived in a traditional hut, but it was always clean compared to the filthy big house in Tubu. Finally, I did not have to constantly worry about being left in the house by myself all weekend. I became a child again, never having to worry about this and that. It was a good transition for me as a child.

When I returned to Tsau, I still enjoyed admiration from my fellow villagers because of my father. They still held him in high esteem. This, and the love I received at home, bolstered my confidence despite my dismal academic performance. I would raise my hand in class even when I didn’t know the answer, but I never hated school. I also looked forward to playtime after school in the village because that’s where I dominated. I was too loud of a child, too forward, if you may call it so, and sometimes too bossy.

The light bulb started turning on slowly. To everyone’s surprise, when I was in standard four, I topped the school in the standard four examination. It wasn’t an A-grade performance, but it offered the boost I needed