I remember this day and all its events in their unfolding like it was yesterday. Date: 15 May in the year 2015. Gown for graduation is ready, shoes, red tight-fitted shirt, clean dreadlocks, new trousers and my old belt.

My dad, whom I had been trying to please without success, was now there alongside his mother, my beloved grandmother No-Durban, to witness this bright moment.

The idea that they had considered for quite some time that university was probably not for me was instantly shattered that day – completely erased from all other negative memories. Now I had a different sense of the world as a space where their prophecies of doom for over seven years were turning into satirical moments, with the underdog on top.

The proceedings at the Abbotsford Christian Centre were underway. The Fort Hare Choir sang their lungs out. Credentials were read. Awe, disbelief and delight engulfed me.

There I was, ululated for by No-Durban as I made my way onto that grand stage for Dr Mvuyo Tom to tap me on the head