“Guys what was so funny about me this morning?” One of them mimicked him and blinked his eyes repeatedly.

“You sound like a little girl with your squeaky voice. Why are you even here? Should you not be practising some Beyoncé song somewhere else? We were laughing at your girly voice,” the other one said.

Mashobane had always been insecure about this. He was the only boy in the entire grade without a deep voice. Luvuyo constantly assured him that his voice was eventually going to break, he told him to be just patient. Although his voice was marvellous for singing, he hated the other attention that came with it.

Embarrassed, he ran away from the playground with tears streaming down his face. He remembered the first few days at the new school, when he was bullied. He no longer wished to try out for soccer, he believed that his team mates would tease him every day.

Mashobane got home, still very upset by the events of the day. He slowly walked to the huge mango tree and sat there sobbing. Suddenly he heard the leaves rustle. He felt a gentle, cool breeze touch his skin. He looked up and saw the branches sway from side-to-side. Right from the tree top, he heard a voice. A voice that he was very familiar with. It was his father’s voice.

“Masho, what is the matter?” The voice asked, while the branches swayed from side-to-side.

“Baba, I wanted to try out for the school soccer team today, but I ended up not going ahead with it,” he replied.

“What stopped you? Did something happen?” The voice asked.

“It is those other boys in school, Baba. They kept on laughing at me, since my voice is not as deep as theirs. They started in the classroom and took it all the way to the playground. I then became too ashamed to even try,” he said with so much sadness in his voice.

“So, if it was not for them, you would have given it a try?” Asked the voice.

Mashobane nodded, looking up the tree.

“Tell me something, do you still remember how much you used to hate snails?” The voice asked.

“Yes, Baba and I still do. I do not like seeing their slimy marks they leave behind,” Mashobane responded in disgust.

“Now, take a closer look at the tree trunk. There have been many insects and other animals crawling on it. But can you tell which ones have been crawling all over it?” The voice asked.

“Baba, I do not know. I cannot guess which insects and animals were here. But I can see a slimy trail all over the trunk. A snail was definitely here,” he said looking at the trunk carefully.

“That is correct! There was a snail here,” the voice said while the branches swayed again from side-to-side.

“But Baba, what does all of this have to do with my voice?” He asked deeply confused.

“Masho, it is because you are also like a snail. The other boys may have much deeper voices than you but yours will also break too. It is just taking a bit longer but you will get there at your own pace,” the voice said while the breeze kept touching Mashobane’s face.

“Just like a snail, you also leave your mark wherever you go. You have a beautiful singing voice that touches everyone who hears it. I am sure some of those boys wish to have such a magnificent gift as yours,” the voice spoke while Mashobane carried on nodding attentively.

“Never compare your progress with others. Move at your own speed and carry on being remembered for all the good qualities you possess. Now I have another question for you, do you really like soccer?” Asked the voice.

“Yes, Baba I do,” he said with a feeble smile.

“Then, do not let anyone stand in your way. If it does not work out, that is also fine. What is important is that you gave it your very best. Go out there and leave your mark,” said the voice and as always, it disappeared into thin air.

Mashobane felt a bit better. He got up and walked back inside the house. Tomorrow he was going to give it another try.

***

Tell us: Do you think the advice will have any impact on Mashobane’s confidence?