By Siphesihle Mkhwanazi
“Preferring a company of books to real life? That’s so weird”.
“It’s for nerds”.
“Why would I waste my time reading a book instead of having fun out there playing?”.
Those were my everyday thoughts and words. I could not see myself just reading a book.
A magazine? That I would do, but only if there was some interesting celebrity gossip. But then, why would I think like this, knowing that deep down I enjoy reading? I would not admit that to anyone; everyone knew Sphe hates reading. She is just a gifted, wise person who excels in schoolwork, but reading? That’s not her thing.
I grew up believing and convincing myself that reading was a lonely activity. Throughout my Primary school, I would read those books provided at school, which were compulsory to read. I was never a fan of visiting a library. While in high school, I used to hate it so much when my IsiZulu teacher picked me to read a book for the class. It was very confusing why she would always choose me to read. She never explained why I was always the one who stood in front of the class and read.
“You should start reading the essays and explaining them to classmates; I think they would understand you better,” said my history teacher from grade 10, Miss Ndala. I thought I had gone past that horror story of being the one who always had to stand in front of the whole class and get myself into an academic mode. I was in disbelief. From our first history test that we wrote, I was the highest scorer, and I believe that is where Miss Ndala began to admire me and my academic strength. My name was always at the tip of her tongue; I admit, I secretly loved the recognition. However, I hated what that admiration came with. We got along very well, and she noticed how being always chosen to read and present irritated me.
“I see some spark in you; you can’t tell me you hate reading that much. Don’t lie to yourself, Bookworm.” That is what she called me to tease and irritate me. We had gotten so close, and she became my mentor, friend, teacher and mother. One good morning, Miss Ndala came to work at my school with her cousin, who was one year older than I. She introduced me to her. “She really looks like a nerd”, I said to myself. “I thought you could use some company and a reading partner, Sphe; she is outstanding in that department”, she said. Why would she think I need the company of some bookworm? I mean, I can read on my own. The magazines, newspapers? I have read them independently and could understand and articulate the gossip there. Miss Ndala continued to tell me that her cousin also reads online books, which include folklore, fiction, sci-fi, and other genres. “I think you could start by reading easy genres or online books; those are not as boring,” Miss Ndala said. “You will then discover what you like and find those that interest you”.
Thuto, the cousin, proceeded to share with me her ebooks to read. I couldn’t wait to get home and discover what they were about. I was eager to read them. “I Fell in Love with A Blind Man” was the first book that caught my attention; this title made me want to know more about this novel. Zondi Nosipho wrote this book as a romantic novel with a touch of fiction. I kept on reading it, chapter by chapter, page by page. I could not stop; it was so interesting and beautiful. My eyes lingered on the book cover, the way my fingers traced through the screen as I read the novel, before I quickly pulled away as if caught in the act of something mischievous, when my mom commented on how I was so glued to the screen that my eyes could burn at any time.
As days progressed, late nights became constant. I could not finish other activities of my day; I was glued to my screen. The tricky part was having to tell Miss Ndala about the book. She always asked which chapter I read, which I enjoyed, and which page I was on. I found it challenging to share this information with her about this book because it was more romantic, with such a great plot. I was just a little girl; I could not share such information with my elders. Either way, she could see through me that I was enjoying the novel, believing she knew she had evoked that spark in me to read.
The ending of this novel was twisted, and I wanted to know more. This eagerness to learn more made me want to read. I started reading a lot more ebooks. I created a realm I would get into whenever I was reading, where I could not feel or see anything else besides the bold but small font words on my screen. I have always enjoyed history as a subject. I have always enjoyed learning stories about the past and had questions about history. This eagerness to read pushed my passion and love to learn more about history. My teacher started handing me her academic books, sci-fi, thrillers, and other things, while her cousin kept sharing her ebooks with me. My hidden love for reading emerged; it prevailed like never before.
From that moment, everything changes. Looking back, I smile at the irony. The person who dismissed books now reads at any chance she gets, through lunch breaks, spare time and even before zoning out at night on my bed. Reading became my secret joy, then my passion, and finally my identity. Embracing books made me stop caring and thinking negatively about books being for certain people; reading can convey different messages and perspectives. It also teaches and heals. It all took one person and a novel of about 2000 pages to turn my resistance to reading into a love affair.
