BONA, derived from the Zulu greeting to a multitude of people, 'Sanibona' - directly translated as 'we see you' - forms the premise of this publication, by Tebo Mpanza
My 6th birthday at Tree Tops Pre-primary
It’s my birthday today. I’m 35. Crazy. I had another two pieces ready to go before this one, but since it’s my birthday, I thought I’d stop and reflect. I’ve always been ready for my birthday—it was one of the last in the year growing up. Some of my friends, Matthew Stewart, Liam Draycott, Andrew Randles, Robert Edwards, Ross Hulley, and Njinga Mpanza (whose birthdays I still remember for some reason) always went first. By the time theirs had come and gone, I was prepared for mine. Even now, as we’re getting older, that sentiment is the same.
Growing up in South Africa, our academic year ran from January to December, unlike the UK’s September-to-July calendar. I always felt like I spent my adolescence catching up—catching up academically, catching up on the field, catching up in the family. Why couldn’t I be more like them? Reading Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers years later, where he discusses how those born in certain months have an edge in sport, school, and beyond, was a revelation. It made sense—my birthday had put me at a disadvantage before I even started. Gladwell argues that success isn’t just talent but timing, opportunity, and privilege. And I wondered, how much of my life has been shaped by timing I couldn’t control?
Njinga & I in Grade 7 at Highbury
Poor Maximilian (my son)—he’s not ready for his father’s shortcomings. Because if I’m honest, at 35, I still feel like I’m catching up. I was talking to Joey last week on his birthday, and he said this was the first year he felt like he could really enjoy his birthday. I was inspired, but it got me thinking—I can’t wait for that birthday. What will it take to get there? What do I expect to feel when that birthday comes? In the past year, I’ve had some changes—gone full-time on my business, moved cities, and become a father. Surely, this is it? In one or two ways, it is. But deep down, if I’m honest with myself, I still feel like I’m still catching up.
Why does it still feel like I’m not there yet? What does “there” even mean? Is it comparison that I’m wrestling with? Or is it something deeper—some part of me that refuses to stop moving, refuses to let myself arrive? Will there ever be a moment where I can pause, look around, and say, “This is it”? And if I did, would I even let myself enjoy it? Will I always feel like I’m playing catch up?
