Awakening Doctor
The Awakening Doctor podcast explores the personal stories of those who work in the medical and health professions. Each episode aims to highlight the humanity of an individual doctor or healer, and thereby challenge and transform social perceptions of the profession and the individuals who practice it. Join Dr. Maria Christodoulou as she meets with colleagues, leaders, and educators in healthcare to reveal the human side of being a medical professional.
Awakening Doctor
Dr Wonderful Thabiso Khumalo, A Young Man from Katlehong
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What are the odds that a young man from Sluma View, Katlehong, will find himself at Oxford University?
Whatever they are, Dr Wonderful Thabiso Khumalo, medical doctor, Rhodes scholar, award-winning poet, and emerging global health researcher, has defied them.
In this episode of Awakening Doctor, Thabiso speaks candidly about growing up without his biological father, losing his mother as a teenager, and navigating matric while living alone - often not knowing where his next meal would come from. With extraordinary vulnerability, he shares for the first time publicly the circumstances surrounding his mother’s death, and reflects on masculinity, resilience, and the impact of being “shunted into manhood” too early.
The conversation highlights the many unseen realities behind academic excellence: the loneliness of survival, the quiet strength derived from community, the racism and class disparities embedded within medical training, and the power of service in shaping identity. Thabiso reflects on his years at Wits University, his passion for mentoring and student leadership, and the colleagues and peers who sustained him through some of the most difficult years of his life.
Now pursuing a PhD at Oxford University focused on gun violence in low-resource settings, Thabiso speaks about ambition, purpose, spirituality, and what it means for a young man from Katlehong to become part of Oxford’s “living memory.”
Join us for a powerful exploration of leadership and resilience, and be reminded that behind every accomplished doctor is a deeply human story waiting to be heard.
If you enjoyed this conversation and would like to support this work, please consider donating to our podcast fund using the link above. Your contribution helps us cover production costs and keep bringing you great content. No amount is too small, and your support means the world to us. Thank you for listening!
Host:
Dr Maria Christodoulou
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Welcome And Guest Introduction
Maria ChristodoulouWelcome. I'm Dr. Maria Christodoulou, and this is the Awakening Doctor Podcast, a space where we discover the personal stories of those who work in the medical and health professions. Join me as I explore the hopes, the fears, the aspirations, and the real life challenges of those who carry the title, responsibility, and privilege of being a doctor. Today, I'm joined by someone whose story sits at the intersection of creativity, intellect, resilience, and purpose. Dr. Wonderful Thabiso Khumalo is a young medical doctor from Katlehong, Gauteng in South Africa. He graduated from Wits University in 2024 and in that same year was awarded the prestigious Rhodes Scholarship, which has now taken him to Oxford University, where he's pursuing a PhD. His research is focused on the realities of gun violence in low resource settings. An accomplished student leader and mentor, he is also an award-winning speaker and poet, an avid reader, a football fan, a cyclist, and an engaged conversationalist across global politics, history, medicine, and culture. Welcome, Thabiso. It's great to have you with me today.
Wonderful KhumaloThank you very much, Maria. I'm really excited about this conversation. It's been a long time coming.
Childhood In Katlehong
Maria ChristodoulouAbsolutely, it has. And I'm very grateful that you've made the time. So, I'm interested to hear from you. Where does your story begin?
Wonderful KhumaloWow. Let's see. I'd say probably as far as my memory can go. So maybe around primary school. Because anytime before that, I think I was just too young to have any form of judgment. But it starts in primary school. So I don't know if you want to start from there. You tell me. So primary school, picture young boy. He's considered one of the smart kids in school, which could either mean that he becomes very popular because he can read very well, or he can become the target of bullying, right? Which is something that we typically don't tend to touch on. But very young kid, I was born in Katlehong, in South Africa, the Gauteng Province. My mother's name's Constance Zanele Khumalo, my father Simon Sika Moloi. I lived in Katlehong, in a part of Katlehong called Sluma View. I attended at Stoneridge Primary School. It's in Eden Park, so it's predominantly a place where coloured people live. So it's very different to where I live, which was in Sluma View. But what I liked about Stonerridge, it was a very diverse group of people, right? So went there and yeah, I was just one of those kids that would just enter reading competitions and all of that. Unfortunately, in grade two, my father, Simon Sika Moloi, passes on. So it means I had to grow through a couple of years without a father. So my mother then raised me as a single parent through those years. And she did her best. Now that I think about it, in hindsight, she did her absolute best. She was a superwoman. And through those years, yes, I experienced some bullying. I think primarily because I didn't have a father. You know, sometimes as a kid, now obviously this is all in hindsight. At the time, I'd had no concept of what was happening. But I think when your peers know that you don't have a father to run to, or you don't have an older brother, because I was basically in a house as a single child or an only child. So I did not have any siblings to run to. I did not have a father who could come with that, you know, masculinity. Usually the kids would be scared of the father more than the mother, because my mother was a very warm person and she couldn't hurt a fly, right? So around that time, my mother was working extremely hard. I would come back early from school, and that's when primarily the bullying would happen. But I'm not going to paint my story as somber and sad. It had very great moments. I was a very happy child. I had friends where I lived. It was a beautiful time, beautiful time. So yeah, I think directly answering the question, where does it start? I'd say it's around there. It was a kid who didn't really have much, right? But my mother made sure that all my needs were sorted out. So that was, I'll say, as far as I can remember, my story starting. Of course, there are all these other nuances, but I've just attempted to paint a picture of what was happening around that time in my life, which informs some of the characteristics I have today.
Living With Unknown Answers
Maria ChristodoulouYou mentioned sort of quite casually that your father passed. And I guess because you are a doctor today, I'm also curious how did he pass? What happened?
Wonderful KhumaloIt's so interesting. That is a question. And I think this is again, it touches on something I like talking about, and that's the importance of families being intact. I've never had a relationship with my father's side of the family. And those were the only people that could tell me what was happening at the time because my maternal family couldn't tell me. They didn't know. So a direct answer, I do not know what happened to my father. I have pictures right now. So my mother did this thing where she kept a photo album of all the pictures. Like literally, I've got a picture from when I was just a few weeks old. And she kept them, she printed them out into this little Kodak photo album. I still have it to this day. So my only memory of my father is the great times we had. So he was co-parenting with my mother. So I had basically two of everything. When it was Christmas, I would have something from my mother, from my father. He was an amazing man, but I don't know what led to his passing. I just remember that around that time, it was a very, very tricky time in terms of families. There was a lot of conflict between his family, my family. By my family, I mean my mother's family, because that's the family I grew up under. But I don't know. I don't know what happened to him. And it's unfortunate that no one will ever tell me because the people I'm close to right now either don't know or they just didn't have a relationship with him at all.
Maria ChristodoulouGosh. I'm not sure why I'm focusing on that. It just felt really interesting and important when you mentioned his passing. And I think particularly because, in a way, by beginning to tell the story with that, you've also highlighted how it might have been in those early formative years to not have a male role model in your life and an absent father figure, which is such a theme in the story of young men in our country.
Losing His Mother Too Soon
Wonderful KhumaloAbsolutely. It's something that is barely spoken about. I mean, I think we just brand it and we leave it like that, but we don't actually examine the depth that it carries with it. I wasn't always fatherless. So at around grade five, grade six, my mother met another man who currently is still alive. I just refer to him as my father, but in reality, he is my stepfather. He's not my biological father. So he then stepped in and played the role of being a father. His name is Emmanuel Stephen Ngoma. Amazing, amazing man who stepped in. Even after my mother demised in 2017, he still stuck around. So I think there was just a five-year gap in my life where I did not have a father. And that's where a lot of things were happening. But when he came in, he closed that gap beautifully. I was a very inquisitive child. I was a kid that was asking a lot of questions. I was seen as way ahead of my time. There were obviously a lot of things that were very confusing around that time. But if I were to attribute some things to that period, you see it in the relationships that you keep. Because I did not have a brother in the house, I did not have a father, there's a part of you that feels that you are shunted or forcefully pushed into manhood. And that's why I think I've got some... I call myself a provider, right? I feel that I've had to play roles that I was not ready for from a very young age. So when you compare it to now, it's probably why I'm so serious about building, which is a good thing, I suppose, building a strong family where both the mother and the father are present. Of course, I don't have a family of my own now, but it's something that I aspire to have because I know what not having even one of the parents does to a household. It's things that we don't speak about.
Maria ChristodoulouWhat does it mean to be shunted into manhood too early?
Learning The Truth About HIV
Wonderful KhumaloWow, your questions are so beautiful. So I'll give you in two segments. The first segment was around those grade two, three, four, five years. Obviously, I come home, there is nobody there. My mother comes home, let's say three to five hours after I came back from school, because I'd come back around one, two, she comes back around five. Then I have this unspoken expectation in my head. This is a self-laden expectation that I need to protect my mother if someone knocks here. Because it used to be these people that knock at night, maybe a neighbor who's coming to ask for something or whatever. But there's always that thing to say my mother is obviously female. She's a very soft and warm person. If something were to happen here, I would need to stand up. And that time I'm just a 11-year-old, 12-year-old, or even younger because it was from grade 2, 3. So I was like an eight, nine, 10-year-old. So it was that segment where I felt that I needed to step in in that regard. But then this other segment, which I think is more relevant to your question, was my mother then passes on in 2017. When she passes on, I'm 17 at the time, 16, 17. Unfortunately, because I'm the only child, I do have a sister, but she never grew up in the same household. So in that house, for all my life, I was an only child. So I unfortunately then had to live alone. So I lived alone, it was in grade 11. I lived alone throughout the whole of grade 12. And I had to fend for myself. I love my family, my maternal family. I still speak to them today. They are the most amazing people to me in my life. But it is a reality that I lived alone. And quite often, because I don't come from a rich family. I mean, these are people that are hardworking and trying, but they're not necessarily wealthy or have enough money to say, we will send you money all the time. But I think in hindsight, because I had so many psychological issues that I was dealing with that I couldn't characterize at the time, I also prefer to be alone and isolate. So to answer your question, what it means to be shunted into manhood, now not only do I have no mother to protect anymore, but I've got to look out for myself. So now I'm forced into independence. I am forced into fending for myself in a very, very cold and busy world. When we were burying my mother, my house was extremely full. And then every week that went by, you saw the number trickle down and down and down and down to a point where you're alone. And then 2018 happens. The most important year in any high schooler's journey, I have to live alone. And that's when you start to develop this persona of I've got to look out for myself. What I eat, I have to figure out. What I wear, I have to figure out. Birthdays come, my late mother's birthday passes, and in fact, it's coming up right now on April on the 18th. My birthday comes, Christmas comes. All of these are the first birthdays and Christmas without my best friend, that's my mother. You may not say it at the time, but you're forced, and you are shunted into manhood. You are forced to fend for yourself and become what your mother and yourself were dreaming of that you would be throughout all those years. So on one hand, it may be an intrinsic motivation, but on the other, I don't believe it is fair for a 16, 17-year-old to have to live through that. Sometimes I say it, and yes, it sounds like a victory story, but I would not wish that life on my worst enemy. Maria, I went through a very difficult time. In 2018, which I still deem the worst year of my life, I would eat the same kind of meal three times a day. And anyone that knows traditional food, so in fact, this is barely traditional, but I call it traditional because it's like a staple food within the Zulu culture. So it's uphuthu, so it's like having your porridge, but like it's very, very fine and granular, right? With amasi. Anyone that knows this will know what I'm talking about. I would eat this three times a day. Number one, because I think it would fill my stomach quicker, and then I wouldn't be hungry. But when you eat that, anyone that eats that a lot knows that you get constipated and bloated quite a lot when you eat that. So I would eat that three times a day, every single day, and probably eat bread. I would get bread through credits from the store. So my neighbors were also there for me at the time. So... so many things that I'm truncating in this story in the interest of time, but I'm hoping that it's painting a picture of the kind of difficulties I went through. And at that time, I thought, because I don't have a choice, I have to go through it.
Maria ChristodoulouI'm just thinking about 16, 17-year-olds and kind of firstly, how did your mother pass? But how do you go about fending for yourself at 16 when you're still at school? No means to earn an income. How did you do that?
Wonderful KhumaloSo, how my mother passed was, and by the way, this is the first time I will ever say this to any public audience. It's certainly something I would put in a book that I do plan on writing. So, okay, maybe let me take a few seconds to just process it. So I've only found out four or five years after my mother passed on, that she passed on due to HIV. For a very long time, I was led to believe that my mother passed on because she had a hypotension problem. She had a low blood pressure problem, and she had anaemia or whatever. But at that time, I'll remember it was before medical school. I had no concept of what was going on. So that's what happened for a very long time. And then in 2022, this was my fourth year, just before I go back to university after the holidays. I'm with my grandmother, who by the way now is also late because she passed on last October. My grandmother, this is my mother's mother. I'm in her bedroom with my grandmother, and I'm telling her I'm about to leave. Then she says, You know, I've got these papers. These belonged to your mother. I've never given them to you, but I just thought you should have them. And I'm like, no, Gogo, please keep them. But let me just go through them before I go. As I go through those papers, there's the title deed of my mother's house. Great. All of those were great to finally see and have. And then there's medical records. And that's my mother's medical records. I don't think at the time my grandmother knew what she was giving me. And you'll see why I say that. She gives me and I go through them, but obviously now I've got medical knowledge. I can see this is a medical record. It's a notice of death. On the top left, it's written, years. And then under that, you have to write the condition the person lived with for years. It's written HIV. And then on the right, it's written, pneumonia. That's days. So it means she passed on secondary to pneumonia, which was a complication of the HIV. Now, what was interesting is that I underwent medical male circumcision at a very young age, and we have to test there. And my test was negative. So now I'm starting to think about wait, I wasn't born with this thing. So does it mean that my mother had it when I was born, but she just didn't transmit it to me? Or does it mean that she got it afterwards? She acquired after I was born. But I've never seen her take any medication. We lived in a two-roomed house for a very long time. It was literally kitchen, bedroom, in the middle it was a small toilet. So I didn't see her take any medication. I was a very inquisitive kid. Searching through my mother's things, I would have found the pills. So now I'm trying to make sense. This is now in 2022. This is like three, four years ago. So now I'm thinking, how could this have happened? I'm shattered. I then asked my grandmother what happened, but I knew that my grandmother is one of the sweetest people I've ever known at the time. She would never maliciously hide things from me. All that she did was to protect me. In that conversation, I realized that my grandmother knew, but she didn't know when it was acquired or whatever, and things like that. So yeah, just to cut that story short, that's the reason why my mother passed on in 2017. Then the other part of your question, how does a 16, 17-year-old have to go through that without any support? The guy that I was telling you about, so my stepfather, my father, Stephen Ngoma, he would once a weekend, because he's a truck driver. Currently, now he's no longer working there, but he was a truck driver for a very long time. He would come on weekends because he would travel around the country during the week. On the weekends, he would come and give me some money if he could. So maybe let's say R300 to help me buy bread here and there. But again, I'm not even wise enough to manage money at that age. So that R300, I would go and buy things around the corner by Wednesday that money's finished, right? So that was part of my assistance then. The other one is that I got into student leadership from high school. Well, from primary school when I was headboy, but high school, I ascended to the top where I was the representative council of learners president. So that meant that I had many teachers that I knew. So some of them would assist. There's my English teacher, Valentia Mphasa. She was a really, really amazing woman. Other people also knew her as Ms Ramoetlo. Really, really amazing. There was a principal who came in as a deputy principal, then became the principal. Mr. Manganyi, really, really amazing. They would assist whenever they could. I would get some food from the school kitchen, some food parcels. There were teachers like Madam Chokoe who would assist. I mean, I'm not going to name everybody now, but all I'm saying is that there was a community I could lean on. But unfortunately, I didn't want to feel like I was bothering people. And a year is very long to depend on people who, by the way, don't even know what's happening at your house. They see you as being the great kid at school. So I was not the depressed kid at school. I was leading, I was helping people, I was advocating for people. And then as soon as I get home and I close the door, my reality hits. So that was how I got through it. Some elements of community, but I think also a huge part of it was Thabiso, you don't have a choice. You really don't. You are seen as the smart kid in the township. You've got to make it out. Right. And I guess much of it is, in fact, all of it is attributable to God. Sometimes when I can't adequately explain something, I just attribute it to God. I'm like, there was no way that was just me. It was certainly divine intervention.
Maria ChristodoulouFirstly, I really just want to acknowledge the courage that it takes to talk about this. And I could see what happened inside of you when you broached the topic of telling us how your mother had passed. And I'm deeply honoured that you've chosen this platform to share that for the first time in a public forum.
Wonderful KhumaloYeah.
Maria ChristodoulouWhat makes you ready to talk about it today?
Wonderful KhumaloThe closest people to me don't know how my mother passed on. And when I say closest, I mean closest friends still don't know what led to my mother's passing. I am going through an important transition in my life at the moment where if I'm to leave this planet one day, when I leave this planet one day, I want to leave with nothing on my chest. I want to leave with nothing coddled up in my spirit. I want my impact on this planet to be felt in every single way that I possibly could have expressed it. And you and I had a previous conversation when we first spoke, and I told you that I love the idea of your podcast platform because it is a space where vulnerability is welcome, a space where honesty is a conversation that can be had. And ultimately, I think because I'm all the way now on this side of the world, I feel no need to carry skeletons in my closet. And I know that whoever listens to this will in one way or the other relate because we all share the common human experience. And I think it's an opportunity for me to say, as much as people think I've done all these great things and I've succeeded relatively immensely for someone my age, I still am human. And there's a story behind the perceived giant. There's a story behind everything. And this is my story.
Maria ChristodoulouYeah. Gosh.
Getting Into Wits Against The Odds
Wonderful KhumaloYou know, the other day, just to add one more thing, the other day I wrote on my status message that it is so critical to speak on... this is on my WhatsApp story. It is so important to have a conversation with someone. And by the way, just ask them, how are you? and not set an alarm clock in your head for how long the answer should be. So I guess what I'm feeling now at the moment, the reason I'm feeling comfortable is because when you ask a question, I'm just feeling this thing where I go, I know we've got time constraints, but I don't feel rushed, right? So it's an opportunity for me to share this as well. So that's where some of the courage is coming from.
Maria ChristodoulouThank you. I feel very privileged that you feel able to share not only with me, but with anyone who might listen to our conversation. And I think your vulnerability is both inspiring and a little bit challenging. I'm finding myself thinking, okay, so where are the places in my own life where I keep things to myself and why? I imagine the shock of finding out that your mother had HIV and finding it out in the way that you found it out, now at this fourth-year medical student level, where you can actually make some sense of what this information means and all the unanswered questions that probably run through your mind and heart and that may never have answers. And I feel like we've glossed over some of what it might have been like to be a 16, 17-year-old living on his own, dealing with everything you were dealing with. But I also heard you say very clearly at the beginning that you didn't want your story to be only about that.
Wonderful KhumaloYes.
Maria ChristodoulouSo what else is your story about?
Wonderful KhumaloThis is... so from that part, it then extends to who then becomes. Because I think at that time it was such a mess. I didn't have any idea of what was becoming. So then after that season, I move into university, and when I get to university. By the way, still alone, I tell the story casually to my friends. I'm like, since I got to university, I never received a single cent from anybody that previously I would have deemed to be in my corner, right? And that's not because they didn't care, but genuinely because I think we all have our own issues. So I literally had to fend for myself, even in university, but it is through the community that I got in university. So I met lecturers, I met faculty registrars, I met professors. Two honourable mentions would be there's a professor called Mantoa Mokhachane. She'll beat me up. I think it's Mokhachane. And then there's a lady called Mrs. Sandra Benn. She's a former faculty registrar at Wits. These were two people that I could lean on, and I've leaned on for so long through my university life. These were people that will make you forget that you are orphaned. They will make you forget that you do not have an easy tap out option. So I go through university and from first year...
Maria ChristodoulouHold on. I just... I want to I want to go back a little bit. How does an orphaned 16-year-old from Katlehong find himself at Wits University?
Wonderful KhumaloSo in my grade 11, so it's so interesting. My mother passes on on the 21st of October 2017, and this was a Saturday. On the next Thursday, I was writing my final maths paper. And that mark would obviously determine whether or not I get placement into a university. Maths, physics, English, and all of that. Through that period, I get people telling me, even some of the teachers, by the way, you can take a gap year. You can come back and re-register for matric the other year, 2019, take the 2018 year off. And I was so stubborn. Some people would attribute it to my star sign. I don't believe in those things, but apparently Taurus people are stubborn. I say, no, I'm going to write. I write those exams, and again, God's grace, I'm placed as number one. I get the highest mark I've ever got in my entire life, academic life. I pass all my exams incredibly. I then used that report a few months later to apply to Wits University. And the reason I went ahead, Maria, is because my mother and I have been singing the story of me being a doctor since I was in grade four.
Maria ChristodoulouOkay.
Wonderful KhumaloFrom that moment when I said I want to be a doctor, she's never ever discouraged me. She's never even said, but you can also try and be a policeman. Because that's what my peers, some of my peers were saying around the time. I just want to be a soldier. I just want to be a policeman. I also said I want to be a private investigator, but I think I was just watching too many movies. I didn't know what a private investigator was. But when I first said I want to be a doctor, my mother cultivated that and supported me for years.
Maria ChristodoulouAnd what made you say I want to be a doctor?
Medical School And Hospital Reality
Wonderful KhumaloI have no idea. I think it just was very, very attractive to me. The idea of helping people, saving people, I had no idea what a doctor does. But I think I stumbled upon it. So I want to become a doctor. And then my mother goes, Yes, you will be. As soon as she says that, it goes on for so many years after that, where she really, really inculcates this idea in my head that you are going to be a doctor. When a friend of hers visits, she's like, My son's gonna be a doctor. I remember those moments like it was yesterday. Remember, my mother passed on when I was 16, 17. So it was not very long ago, right? I can still remember. So, yes, a decade has probably passed since that time, but I still remember very, very vividly. I believe that I wanted to be a doctor, and she immediately cultivated that. And so I never looked back. There's not really a deep story to say someone was sick in my family, etc. I just really thought it was great to help people like that. And it was among the very attractive careers because it looked like someone who really studies and puts in the work, and I was like, that just matches who I am, and I didn't even know about any other thing. So part of me applying for university around March, about three, four months after my mother's passing, was because I felt I was doing it for her as well, honouring her. And so I then applied to Wits. I only applied to Wits University, no other institution. I don't know why, but part of it was also I didn't have the money for application fees. So I remember University of Pretoria was R300 Rands, UCT was probably R100 or R200, UJ was free, but UJ didn't have medicine. So I applied for Wits. The R100s, by the way, I got it from one of the people I mentioned earlier. That was Mr. Manganyi, who was the deputy principal at that time. He's the principal now of that school, Palm Ridge Secondary School. So I had that. Then I applied, made it happen, and a month later I get provisional acceptance into medicine. I get into medicine. That's where my journey starts. A few weeks after I start first year, there's this protest happening on campus. And around that time, some of us who got to campus early were inside, but those that got to campus a bit later, they were stuck outside because the protesters were blocking the gate. Now I'm sitting in the sociology class. Our lecturer, Dr. Kezia, she's now prof Kezia Lewins, a very amazing woman. She stands in front of us and she wants to start the lecture. But there's many of us that feel because some of our people are outside, and by our people, I mean everybody, black, white, Indian, coloured, it doesn't matter. Some of our people in this class are trapped outside, and then we are here. We can't continue as if things are normal. So then there's this argument, and Prof. Kezia allowed this conversation to happen. There are those that feel that because they paid their school fees, they're entitled to getting a lecture. The lecture must continue. Then there's some of us who go, actually, if you think about it, majority of the people that are stuck outside are those who, number one, don't have a car, so they couldn't drive to campus earlier, they had to wait for the bus. And we knew this because when we checked on the group chats, it was largely people who lived at residences. So then I stand up and I'm part of the people that are advocating for the lecture not to happen. And I go, we cannot continue this way as if our people are not trapped outside. So we want to wait for them till they come in, then we'll proceed with the lecture as normal. And then there are people that go, but we paid. And I said, but who didn't pay? The fact that NSFAS paid for my fees does not mean I'm not paying, I'm not a fee-paying student. So that catapults me into class rep because a few weeks later, then there's class rep elections, and then people just point at me. They're like, we want that guy. He can represent us. And I kid you not, that was the first time that I had to lead such a large group of people at one time. I was elected as class rep of about 300 students. And since then, I've been a student leader. So you were asking, what else is part of my story? It's the student leader era of my life where I always felt that no one should have to go through the problems or troubles I've faced. Because I've faced a lot of those problems in grade 12, but I knew in university it's even more rife. It's even worse. So I wanted to help people. And again, by God's grace, I've been given a very strong voice to advocate and help people. And so I stayed in student leadership right until I graduated. And that's part two. There's a part three, which is now, but the part two of my story is my time in university, spending time with people, leading people, speaking in rooms where I felt, you know, a person like me has historically never been allowed to speak in this way in rooms like this. I have an interesting trend in my life where I'm always the youngest person in many rooms that I enter. And it was an honour. It was an honour to lead. I joined the Medical Students Council at the end of my second year. Six months into my term, this is from October to March, I resign and I go, I know I got into student leadership because I wanted to help people. But if I'm not growing and developing as a leader, and if the space is not feeding into me, I'm not going to stay. So I resigned. Then I started to lead as an agent. By that I mean I never joined any student structure. I continued with being class rep and I was just leading people when I meet them in the corners. And I go, hey, how is school going? Do you need any assistance? Because I knew a lot of professors and lecturers. I get to fifth year, a friend of mine goes, We're about to finish medical school next year. Why don't we just run for these positions of student leadership? His name is Siybonga Khoza. And he says to me, Why don't we just do it, right? At Wrap- It- Up Wits Medical Society, where there was a couple of my other friends, Thabelo Mogomotsi, Clerance Mahlalela, all of those guys. So we decided, let's just go for the Medical Students Council and give back one more time before we leave. That's how I ended up being the chairperson of the Health Sciences Students Council, the chairperson of the Medical Students Council, and the head of pathology education at Wrap- It-Up Wits Medical Society, where we give free tutorials to all students in the faculty. All in one year, by the way. All these portfolios, I did them in one year. And I think it's just because we knew we were leaving and we wanted to make an impact one more time. We felt that there was a lot of leadership apathy. So a lot of students had just given up on student leadership structure. So we wanted to give an inspiration one more time to say, let's do it, guys. So we did that. And that's the second part of my life. It's largely academic and leadership oriented.
Maria ChristodoulouAnd medical school, because this is the Awakening Doctor podcast. So you've talked a lot about the leadership aspects of your time as a student. What was medical school like? What was it like to learn about becoming a doctor?
Wonderful KhumaloIt was incredible. For a very long time... remember, this is all I've ever known, right? It was incredibly difficult to grapple with the realities of medical school. I got there and I saw insane discrepancies in terms of social class, in terms of who feels comfortable to speak, in terms of who feels that they should just keep quiet. So I'll take you in three phases: first and second year, third and fourth, and then fifth and final. First and second, I was just a rock star there. I was having fun. I was going to parties, I was going clubbing. It was just pre-COVID, because COVID hit in my second year. But we were having fun. It was nice. It was beautiful. Third and fourth is when obviously now we start to go into the hospital space. The very first hospital I went to was Chris Hani Baragwanath. Huge hospital. It felt like a community. I saw my confidence come to the fore. And it was incredible to experience life through the lens of other people who are living in ill health because you realize they're also human and they're just here because they're not in good health. So third and fourth year were really incredible in forming that picture for me. And that's when I was tutoring quite a lot, right? And so it was great. From a theoretical perspective, morphing into clinical, it was beautiful. I loved clinical skills. I prepared for those like I was preparing for the test of my life. The clinical skills unit at Wits does extremely well to teach. And so it was a beautiful time. Fifth and final year are the most important ones for me because now you go into medical school deep enough. Now you go into the hospital healthcare setting. Now you're confronted with realities every single day. It was around that time when I decided that that dream I've always had of being a bone doctor is being validated now because so many people are breaking their bones. So many people are involved in a car accident. So many people are just injured. But, you know, Chris Hani Baragwanath is a beautiful hospital. And Wits has a many affiliated hospitals, so we got to circulate among those hospitals. And it was great to see the healthcare setting from different perspectives. I was frustrated quite a lot as well because the healthcare system in South Africa, it could be way better, but it's way worse. And that's where a lot of my frustrations came in. And that's when I developed my bone for global and public health. I still ,at that time, thought I was going to be an orthopaedic surgeon because I think it was just a rewarding specialty. Like someone breaks their bones, they come in, you fix it, they go home. But also because there was a stigma that orthopods don't know any other part of medicine. So I wanted to change that because I was the kind of budding orthopod that knew many other diseases and many other systems. Even today, while I'm doing injury research and I'm mostly in the musculoskeletal space, when I tutor medical students, I tutor any condition. I say, you can bring diabetes to me, we'll talk about it. Because I take pride in knowing the whole human body sufficiently enough to teach other people. Yeah, I really had a great time through medical school, although it's not... obviously not to be separated from the very harsh experiences I've had to see when I was leading students and I was seeing the realities of students on the clinical space. So a lot of racism. Me and my clinical partner, Siya, we experienced a whole lot of racism. And I say a whole lot, I'm mincing my words. It was a lot. And some of them it was undertones, some of them it was institutional, some it was very blatant in your face. We were usually the only two black people in our small clinical group. And so at the time, we used to just vent and go, wow, what a time today. Because, you know, when there's two black people in the group, when they're not there, it will be clear that they're not there. It also meant, well, let me not say it also meant because being black doesn't mean that you don't have a car. But for us, we just didn't have cars and we happened just to be the only black people, right? In many of the groups we rotated through. Some of them, it was... we would mix with other groups, so it would be fine. But we were, I'd say, socioeconomically at the very bottom. We were the only two people who didn't have cars to commute. So sometimes, for instance, a lecturer or a clinician, a doctor will host their tutorial at quarter to one, knowing that the bus comes at one and the next bus comes at four. So we would see that when at 1 p.m., when the bus is now leaving, this is now in the afternoon, when it's leaving the hospital, and then the tutorial ends, let's say, at quarter past one, 30 minutes later, everyone else gets into their cars, they drive home, they continue with their lives. We are forced to stay at Chris Hani Baragwanath to wait for the next bus coming three hours later. Those are just some of the problems we went through. It was incredibly difficult. We went through many days not eating in the hospital. We weren't distraught, we weren't poor, we weren't in destitute. We just happened to not have relative to some of the people that were around us. And some of the issues that we faced were that. And this one time, I mentioned racism. This one time, again, this was just an undertone. It wasn't clear. There was this, you know, clinician in urology, and they had a tutorial, and we usually like allowed people to volunteer to be the group rep and whatever. And then this group rep tries to organize a session with this clinician, a tutorial session. Well, at first he doesn't respond, and then he comes out in a later tutorial and he lashes out at us. The whole group, he says, First of all, we don't get paid to teach you. So don't call us. We will come to you. We will call you when it's time to have a tutorial. So don't reach out to us. You are annoying us. And again, you would see this in ward rounds as well. He'd have this very hostile. Now, dare I say, this was a Caucasian male. So he at that time, although you can feel that he's nasty with everyone, so you don't think it's a racial issue, but then there are these moments that happen where, when we are late, because let's say the bus got delayed and there's a tutorial in the morning, and it was only the two of us who didn't have cars, so we relied on the bus. When we get there, we all of a sudden get even worse of a lashing out. And it's no longer the same as when he was lashing out as a group. Now it's like he doesn't understand the systemic issues that we bring when we come to hospital as well. And this one Thursday, the last Thursday of the block, we just decided we weren't going to go to a tutorial. Because the next day, the Friday, it was the OSCI, it was the exam. We decided we won't go, and largely because we felt that our experiences were not appreciated in the hospital. The only thing that day was his tutorial. We said, Chief, we're not going to that tutorial. We stayed in our rooms and we studied for the OSCI. So those are just some of the things. And trust me, I've got stories on stories, but I know we don't have the time. But those are just some of the things that happened that I felt were incredibly, they made the space incredibly more hostile. So we made a vow, me and him at the time, that we are going to be better clinicians one day.
Maria ChristodoulouRight.
Wonderful KhumaloThat's how, in a nutshell, med school was for me.
Maria ChristodoulouYou said to me last time we met that one thinks you understand the disparities of society until you get here. And that there's a lot of racism and sexism in health sciences.
Wonderful KhumaloExactly. And I must admit, as young black males, we also had some privilege we carried on our shoulders. Young black females or females in general. I saw females of Indian descent or origins get very, very discriminated against on the clinical platform. And sometimes you get the discrimination from patients themselves. Sometimes you get discrimination from clinicians who think that you are less of a human being because of how you look, how you sound, how you project yourself. So obviously, we were student leaders at the time, so we had to be very vocal about these issues. But when you know that the person that you are going to be vocal about determines whether you pass this block or not. And you know that going back at home without a degree is not an option. You tend to get silenced a lot of the time. So that's what we went through. But absolutely, you think you know society until you step into the hospital and you see from all levels. And as medical students, we're at the bottom of the food chain. You know, as students in general, we're at the bottom of the food chain. So it was insane just some of the things we used to go through on a daily basis. Some of the racism I must say, and discrimination, came from people who were from the same race. Some of the racism or discrimination or experiences or where we felt this person doesn't really understand where we come from came from a person who themselves, when they were in university, went through this similar things. Or maybe they were just more privileged, but they're black. So racism didn't have a colour to say white people were racist on black. It was just racism that you would feel. And because remember, how I define racism is if you're prejudiced against a particular person because of their race. So sometimes it wasn't a racial act, but you can tell that it's a racial thinking, it's a racial way of thinking. You know, we used to get graded, and we still talk about it now with some of my friends, Clerance, where we would say, you walk into an OSCE station and you get graded purely as you walk in. Like as you walk in, your mark starts by 70, and you decide how low that mark goes. And of course, we don't have proof of this, but sometimes you can just tell because you experience it on a daily basis. It becomes a lived experience more than a factual thing. So, hey, very interesting times.
Maria ChristodoulouYeah. You're reminding me, in my day, I was one of the few English-speaking students at Stellenbosch University. And in fact, my home language was Greek. So English was my language of education and schooling. And then I went to Stellenbosch University, and in those days it was all very Afrikaans. And it was a known thing when we were going into oral exams that you would get a lower mark if you spoke English. Even though in theory we were allowed to speak English, we knew that it was better to start in Afrikaans and struggle and have the lecturer say, Juffrou, jy kan gerus Engels praat, so you're welcome to speak English, rather than that you went in and immediately off the bat spoke English first, because there would be a bias towards you if you did that. So I can't even begin to imagine when you throw into the mix all the sort of racial disparity that this country has.
Hunger, Transport, And Peer Blindness
Wonderful KhumaloAbsolutely. And you would think after all these years, this would not be a conversation now. But I promise you, a lot of these stories are bottled up in the wards. They bottled up in lecture halls, in tutorial rooms because people feel that I can't speak up against a system to the system. So I report a consultant to the head of department, but I saw them the other day at the tuck shop drinking coffee together. They look like their best buddies. So who do I report and how do I report? And if I report, won't I just be labeled? And as a student leader, by the way, I represented a lot of cases where students are just discriminated against. And even I at some point felt powerless to say, okay, but who do we go to now? But of course, there will always be gems in the system that you can approach and go, can you help me? I mean, Prof Mokhachane will tell you that I used to go to her and we would end up escalating things to the dean, straight to the dean, because we felt anyone in between, we don't know your affiliation to the person of interest. So we'll go straight to the dean because some of these issues were really, really painful to hear.
Maria ChristodoulouAnd of the many stories that you've encountered, and maybe perhaps your own stories, is there one story that stands out in your mind? There's obviously lots of stories and all sorts of different examples. Is there one story that stands out?
Wonderful KhumaloWow, that's a very difficult one. There were so many stories. It's very difficult for me to pick out a story, but I'll say it was usually around the theme of not having much. So in terms of not having the food, not having okay, maybe let me call out this one story because it's still funny. Me and Siya still laugh about the story today. So that story about that tutorial happening closer to the time when the bus leaves. I remember we were rotating through ENT. And when we were in the ENT specialty grades, it was very short days, but for some reason, tutorials would start at half past 12 on many days and end at five past one. Now that would be even more painful, right? Because the bus leaves at one. So me and Siya are like, yoh, Chief, we've got so many things to do. The exam is coming up, and we're not really benefiting a lot from these tutorials. Let's just quickly run for the bus because we're very hungry. No one is going to give us food here. We are extremely hungry. And by the way, we were among the most dedicated people you'll come across. I told you some of the leadership roles we held. So we were very dedicated. I understand if someone might think well, we were just lazy students. We were very dedicated. So we left and we said, let's go to medical school and find some food. We leave. Now this was early on in the rotation. We had done urology. I think we were around ENT. So now we know the trend of the bus leaving. So then we decide, let's go and run for the bus. We don't go to the tutorial. But the registrar that was giving the tutorial did not know that we weren't there. We had seen him on day one, I think. Then the tutorial happened on day two. He was a very relaxed person, very very chill guy. You can tell that he's laid back, he doesn't mind. And then the next day, when we come back, remember, he doesn't know that we went to catch the bus. He asks us in a ward round, he says, Wonderful, Siya, where were you yesterday? And we said, We were in the hospital, Doc. And then he said, No, it's because you guys went and caught the one o'clock bus. Now, the first question me and Siya ask ourselves is, How do you know? Right? And it was so interesting because then the only plausible reason for that, or the plausible reason why he knew is because he was told by our fellow colleagues. Now, these were colleagues that we had rotated through in other rotations who know our reality. They were the ones that saw us in previous rotations and said, Shame, you guys, it's so sad that you have to wait. But they were also the ones when they were group rep, they would select for the tutorial to happen at half past 12. Because sometimes the clinician would ask, What time would you guys like to have the tut? So that's not the highlight of the story. The highlight of the story is that we then say, sorry, Doc, yeah, we had to go because we were really hungry and we couldn't stay. We know it was just a tutorial. It was on a topic that we thought we were a bit comfortable with, but we were always going to come back and ask throughout. We're sorry, we won't do it again. He says to us in a ward round, yeah, but don't worry, but then that means you'll be penalised for your case reports that you will submit next week. Now, that for me is very interesting. So now when you're looking at my case reports, it means you're not grading me on the merits of how good it looks, but you're grading me on how disciplined of a human being you think I am. But that's still fine. We leave it. Then we have the conversation with our group mates, and we go, but guys, why did you tell him? I thought we were family here. You guys understand this better than he could because he's not in the same group. Then these people say, No, but we feel like it's unfair that we have to wait for a tutorial and you guys just get to leave. And then this girl says to us, why don't you just attend and then just go wait in a computer lab, because at Chris Hani Baragwanath, there's a computer lab. Why don't you just attend? And when the bus leaves, go wait in the tutorial. You can just bring your notes and study there. Go wait in the tutorial room there or the computer lab room. And if I'm going to be honest with you, that highlighted really the ignorance that some of our colleagues carry on their shoulders every day. Because the problem is that they think we are running home to go study. But we running home to go eat. So sitting in the computer lab will not do anything for me if my stomach is growling. And I the only place I can get food is at medical school where I've got a community of people that can assist. It's not the most prominent story, I won't lie, but it's one of the ones that I can just remember off the top of my head right now. It highlighted how not only it's the clinicians versus students, but sometimes it's also student versus student. So that's why when I speak, I speak a lot of times to students to make them aware of some of these issues. So that they treat each other as family more than anything. I'm not saying excuse people for not being disciplined, but be cognisant of some of the realities that some people live through that will be very different to your own. Sometimes you'd be walking and a colleague of yours, it's raining, or a colleague of yours is driving a car. They'll just drive past you and then, I don't know, slam the bell and then to make you see that they see you, but they wouldn't be like, guys, it's raining, come into the car. You know, many of them would just do things like that and it was just like, come on, show some camaraderie, but it is what it is.
Maria ChristodoulouHow do you stay motivated, stay positive, keep studying, keep volunteering for student leadership roles when you don't always know where your next meal is going to come from and you are hungry?
Wonderful KhumaloWow. This feels like an x-ray into my soul. It's largely from the ideology that we carried that this work is not for ourselves. How we stay motivated is because a lot of our inner strength came from the people we were serving. When we gave tutorials, when we went to hospital, either you're thinking serving in terms of student leadership or serving in terms of patients. I don't know how many times patients spoke life into me. A patient saying, You are going to make such an amazing doctor. Please don't change. A lot of the times it would be students that go, You guys are doing the Lord's work. Please don't stop because without you... I had people be on the verge of tears when I left for Oxford because they were saying, We can't believe that we are... not really losing in the real sense, but we will not be close to such an icon in our lives because of all the work that we did for free. So the motivation, again, I think it was by grace, but I'm just also acknowledging that there was a community around us. We weren't just alienated in every space that we were in. But patients, oh my God, I love, I loved, I loved the people that I served in the hospital. I loved the people that I served within the tutorial spaces. Sometimes you're in a tutorial, and one of the tutees, I remember her name very well, Simone Calldo. She would bring, and I say these names by the way to honour these people, right? So she would bring snacks on a weekend tutorial, and that would, by the way, feed us for that day. And then later on, we'd go hustle, get some money somewhere else. So I think it was the community around us that kept us going, patients and students alike.
Maria ChristodoulouI find myself wondering what stops you from, I don't know, you look around you, you see other students who have privilege. What stops you from being bitter? What stops you from being angry and resentful? What stops you from, I don't know, to be dramatic, going into a life of crime and focusing instead on service and purpose?
Wonderful KhumaloI grew up in a family of people who try. I think that's the simple best answer I can give. Sometimes we want to attribute our successes to so many other external things, but many of them are internal within the spaces we grew up in. It's easy for me to acknowledge a professor, but forget to acknowledge my cousins, Sibonele, Zandile, Nelisiwe, Sphiwe, and all those people around me, right? These are people that no matter what, they try. And I know all of their stories individually. I've seen them pull themselves out of very, very, very, you know, hectic things. These are the people that even in the depths of trouble and tribulation, these are people that show up. They don't resort to illegal things, they don't resort to treating other human beings badly. I don't come from a poor family. I don't want that to be the narrative. We are not poor. We've never been poor in my family. But we were also not able to get a lot of the things that we needed and wanted at some point, right? So we struggled from time to time. But these are people that always make ends meet. These are people that, even if there's not a lot of money, they will make sure that there's a family gathering every year. These are people that even if they don't have the money to help you, they will pray for you. And so that's the community that made Wonderful Thabiso Khumalo. The other people, I think they contributed to the person that I later became. But at the formative levels, I've got a very, very prayerful family. Every time I go back home, they pray for me. There's a designated prayer room at my grandmother's house. We go in there and they pray. Sometimes we pray in the living room. We pray, they lay hands on me, they cry tears praying for me, they sing songs praying for me. They, oh my God, I love my family so much. But those were the people that really, really kept me going on even in the midst of the world's you know, atrocities, they kept me going. These are the people that form the fabric of who I am.
Maria ChristodoulouYou said to me last time that you are achieving things that would largely be taboo for people that come from where you come from.
Wonderful KhumaloYes.
Maria ChristodoulouSay more about that?
Wonderful KhumaloI don't personally know any other doctor from where I come from. There's a doctor down the road, but he's not from the township. He just built a practice there. But I've never met him. Never met a person who is a doctor. Where I come from again, when I speak about Katlehong, I never like speaking about it like it's a place of hopelessness. These are people that wake up every day and try. Any given morning, Katlehong, you stand on a busy road, people are already catching taxis to go to work. These are people who are motivated despite lack of opportunities. You know, my house right now, the house that I grew up in, is largely being looked over by my neighborus. These are people... You know, when I left the house and went to university, I was in university for six years. Throughout all those years, no one was living at my house. It was being looked over by my neighbors. Whenever there'd be something, someone stealing in the neighborhood, they would make sure that Zanele's house is okay. Zanele's my mother. So when I say it's taboo, I just mean that from the lack of perspective, a lack of opportunity point of view, it's unusual for someone to move from Katlehong to Wits and then Oxford. It's never been accomplished before where I come from. And I don't say that to say I'm the special one. I say that to say, given the right opportunities, people from where I come from really, really could go anywhere in the world. So I love my township. Katlehong is an amazing place.
Maria ChristodoulouSo what does it mean for you to be at Oxford now?
Wonderful KhumaloValidation. In simple terms, validation. I've worked incredibly hard for an opportunity I wasn't even expecting at earlier stages of my life. Because sometimes you have a goal and then you work towards it. I never had a goal to come to Oxford. I never had a goal to study abroad. I just wanted to work. I only applied to Wits. I didn't even have an aspiration to go to UCT in a different province. I just wanted to make a change in my community, and that was it. So being in Oxford is validation that all the work that I did for free is finally coming with rewards now. Now that's tutoring, that's serving, that's leading, that's volunteering, that's speaking and motivating people. Because now when I look at my CV, I really wish it was just from a token point of view. But none of that are tokens of my success. For me, when I look at my CV, it's a testament of what will happen when you just give of yourself. Do things for free. I've never gotten paid for tutoring. Probably on the odd occasion where someone really like wanted a private session and then offered and said, Wonderful, I would not feel good if I don't give you this money. Please, I know that you guys tutor and you're hungry, take this money, go buy food. But I've never tutored people and said, give me money. I've always felt that the sharing of knowledge must be free. So me being in Oxford is validation that if you keep going, if you just keep trying, if you just keep serving, the reward will be far better than you have ever imagined. So coming here has been incredible. I've met people from all over the world. I've heard accents I've never heard before. I've heard languages that you could only hear in movies. I've seen buildings that you've only seen in movies. I mean, Oxford looks like castles and castles everywhere. It's very safe. Just the other night I was walking, it was after midnight, and I was just walking with my earphones on and I'm listening to music. It was jazz. I'm a fan of jazz. So I'm listening to music and I'm just thinking, wow, in South Africa this would not be possible, right? But I'm walking, it's so safe. I have no fear. I'm not looking over my shoulder of who's going to come. And I just realized just how blessed I've been to be given this opportunity. And I always say, this is not my quote, but I've heard it many times. It goes something like the talent that God gives you is his gift to you. What you do with that talent is your gift back to God. So I'm a firm believer in that. And that's why being in Oxford, I've still spread my wings to enter spaces. So even in Oxford, I haven't stopped. I've put my name up for so many things, and by God's grace, I've been accepted into those things. So it's been a beautiful time.
The Rhodes Scholarship Selection Journey
Maria ChristodoulouHow did it come about? How did you get to apply and get selected?
Wonderful KhumaloSo I'll truncate the story, but I'll give you the most important parts. I used to do these things that me and my friends call ward rounds. So we used to walk into the library, find students who are studying, and then grill them. So we used to call those ward rounds. Let's go do our ward rounds. We'd go around, ask them questions about the work they're doing, try and help them study, et cetera. We do that, that's great. One of the days I walk into the library and there's a small pamphlet. It's very boldly written, Do you have what it takes to be a Rhodes scholar? I didn't even know what a Rhodes scholar was. But I took that pamphlet, put it in my pocket, continued with my ward round. And then I went back to my place, opened up the pamphlet, went to their website. And again, do you have what it takes to be a Rhodes scholar? When I get there, they're talking about someone who uses their talents to the full, someone who's got an energy to bring their work out into the world and make it a better place, someone who's got a moral compass and someone who has strong values, someone who's got leadership instincts, someone who's got scholastic attainments or academic excellence. And I'm like, these people are just describing me, right? Since this is me, I'm going to apply. And then I saw that it allows you to study at the University of Oxford. And then I Google, and the University of Oxford has been the number one university in the world for eight years consecutively. It's nine now. So I go, let me just do it. And then a couple of weeks later, a friend asks me, Don't you think that you're going to get rejected? Aren't you scared that you're going to get rejected? And then I go, I'm actually scared I'm going to get accepted. Because that means I must drop everything now, right? I mean, I was in my final year. So I applied. And then again, by God's grace, I get called by Beverley Johnson, very amazing woman. She's a regional manager of the scholarship. She then calls me and tells me that from the application, the written application I had submitted, they're very interested in proceeding with me. But then she was asking me if I don't want to first do comserv and internship, then do the scholarship. And then I said, I feel very convicted that I must do this now. I'm very interested in contributing to research this early in my career. So I'm happy to do it now. Then they say, okay, go on to the interviews. We do the first interview, regional interviews. It was only in Gauteng. And then the national interviews that covered pretty much everyone from around the country. Very, very difficult interviews. They asked me about my life. They asked me about my values, why do I want to go to Oxford and things like that? And then by God's grace, I get accepted, I get the scholarship. And that's how I ended up in the world's number one institution. It still is a shocker to me because I don't like blowing my horn too much. I don't like thinking, yeah, I got here because I'm him. No, I think about it like I'm still, at the very core, a young man from Katlehong. It's not even about being humble, it's a reality. I still feel I'm at the very core, a young man from Katlehong who just had the courage to dream big. And finding myself here is quite insane. I can't fathom it.
Maria ChristodoulouI've also heard you say on an interview that I found on YouTube, I think, you said, today I don't just study at Oxford. I become part of its living memory.
Wonderful KhumaloYes.
Maria ChristodoulouAnd I wonder what it means to become part of the living memory of Oxford University when you are a young man from Katlehong.
Wonderful KhumaloVery beautiful question. I came here and I saw that there's a very distinct culture that the British have that you don't find anywhere else in South Africa, right? There's a very rich history. I mean, this institution is approximately 900 years old. Now, Wits is only about 100 to 120. And for me, when I think about it that way, I go, I am walking through a city that was built centuries ago. From this institution, in fact, from this building, Balliol College, that I'm in, have lived prime ministers around the world, right? Presidents. I mean, a former president of the US studied at University of Oxford. So when I think of it that way, I go, I am walking the streets that were walked by people who were Nobel Prize winners. I am walking the streets that were walked by current giants in their field. So when I think of it that way, I go, what are the odds that a young man from Sluma View, Katlehong, walks the same road, the same streets, being taught by similar people? I find out many new things about Oxford every day. And when I hear about this history, I go, so I'm part of this living memory of this institution. Somewhere, somehow, my name is part of a list of people who are registered here. And in a couple of years, they'll say, I got a PhD from this institution. Absolutely incredible. It feels like it's an imprint in my heart that, man, God is great. Like, He can elevate you to many different parts of the world. And to come here, I can't even begin to explain adequately enough, that is. I love this conversation. I really love it. I wish it could go on forever.
Poetry As Identity And Survival
Maria ChristodoulouThank you. I'm loving it too. I'm finding it fascinating. There's so many things I could ask you about. And I'm also mindful of time. And I feel like there's an aspect of you we've hardly touched on. In your biography, you talk about being an award-winning poet and writer. And it was quite interesting when I tried to do some homework in preparation for this conversation that there's a lot of stuff online about your academic achievements, and there's quite a lot of information about the leadership roles, and the... All of those things are highly visible. And your creative identity seems to be largely undocumented publicly. Tell us more about the poet. Tell us more about Thabiso the poet, the creative man.
Wonderful KhumaloSo I started writing poems around 2014. I was in grade eight. And at the time, I think I was just expressing a lot of what had happened in the previous years, living without a father. So I was just expressing that. So this one time there was a creative arts/ arts and culture teacher of mine. Her name was Karabo Mako. So she had these projects where we performed something in front of the class. So I wrote a poem and then I submitted it. But other people could submit drawings and whatever. So I submitted a poem. Then she read it and then she goes, Do you want to perform this in front of the class? So I did that. And then as soon as I'm done, the whole class goes crazy, right? And then after that, she goes, Would you like to present it in front of the whole school? And then I go, Absolutely. I don't know why, but I just never said no to things. And I think it's been a theme in my life. I just never say no to opportunities that offer me growth. So I did that. And now I'm performing in front of a school of 1,500 people. And I perform, and it was again a crazy response. Everyone was just happy, everyone was touched, everyone was inspired. And then after that, I started attending competitions. And then that's when I got to grade nine. That's when Ms. Ramoetlo then came into my life as an English teacher. She cultivated the public speaker in me. So then I went forward and then I just kept on winning awards throughout high school, got to university. When I got to university, first year, there's this group of people called the House Committee. These are people that welcome first years as they come onto residence. And they tried to obviously get us to know each other. So around Valentine's Day, I was that guy that we would go as a group from my residence at EOH, Ernest Oppenheimer Halls of Residence. We would go to other female residences to sing for them, to, you know, shower them with love and all of that. I was discovered that I know poetry, right? And then I was made the poet at every one of these residences. So whenever we'd go and we'd stand in front of a res and we'd sing for the females, they'd say freshman Shakespeare or something like that, right? And then I would come up from the back and I would start reciting a poem. And some people who know me from first year know that I was a poet around that time, largely performing for female residences. And ultimately, the poet still lives to this day. The most recent poem I wrote, it's a very short poem, by the way. It's titled Sinners Lament. It's an outcry from a man that feels that he has been crucified for sinning, but he feels that the world is not taking into account his experiences and why he commits some of the sins that he commits. And now he's starting to find his own identity through this. And I performed this short poem to a few friends here in Oxford a few weeks ago, and ah, they loved it.
Maria ChristodoulouWould you be willing to share it with us today?
Wonderful KhumaloOkay. Okay, I'm happy to do that. It's a very short one, but you're just gonna have to give me a few seconds because I need to channel the poet in me.
Maria ChristodoulouNo problem.
Wonderful KhumaloSo, like I said, the title is Sinners Lament. So it goes something like this: Drenched and covered in sin. Drenched and covered in sin. Hugs and kisses with my dignity. Yes, she whispers in my ear, son, where have you been? Ripped apart from my mother's womb to a land so so far away, yet I still shine. I guess you can call me the distant son. Criss cross crucified for sinning, for other fellows... by other fellow sinners for merely committing a different one. Raised by pain and nurtured by trauma, I am a walking, breathing contradiction, for I am both a therapy session for Mother Earth and the reason she does not know her worth. Drenched and covered in sin, drenched and covered in sin. Hugs and kisses with my integrity as she whispers in my ear, son, where have you been? I am nothing if not a compilation of generational mistakes and archived dreams, a tapestry of scars on the backs of my forefathers from the slave master's whip, a byproduct of four hundred years of being reminded how useless I am, yet still forced to build everything. So how am I crucified for sinning when Mother Earth has trespassed against me from the very beginning? Drenched and covered in sin. Drenched and covered in sin. She still whispers in my ear, son, where have you been? Perhaps these sins are a payment for every time I left her whisper hanging. Ma, I've been out sinning. Yeah. Like I said, that's titled Sinners Lament. You can obviously tell through some of the verses there that I wrote it when I got this side, because I say, ripped apart from my mother's womb to a land still so far away, right? But I still shine, so you can call me, I guess you can call me the distant son. So yeah, it's been something that I've been feeling heavy in my heart because I'm grappling with a lot of concepts here in Oxford. Part of what I'm seeing is that there's no spiritual Ubuntu on this side of the world. You may get bits of it from people, but it's not the culture that's maybe put that way. And that's by no means an indictment onto Oxford as a city. I think we all have different cultures, but where I come from, it's taboo to walk into a room and not greet a person that you find in there. But here it's absolutely fine. It's normal. They don't even think they're doing it to make you feel bad. That's just how they are, so many of them. But some of them, Shame, they will greet you. So I'm grappling with a lot of things. So I wrote that because I felt feelings of guilt, feelings of sinning, feelings of slavery, coming into terms with that to say, what's my identity in a space like Oxford? Do I feel like I'm a black man in Oxford or do I feel like I'm just part of the community? But in many instances, wherever I walk, whoever I conversate with, I'm reminded that I'm black. And it's interesting because in South Africa, I don't feel black, I feel human. So here it's like you can feel your skin colours. In some places, like when I'm at Rhodes' house, I don't feel that I'm black because everyone there, whether they're black, white, Indian, whether they're Arab, whether they're white, everyone there is like we're a community. But in other spaces, you're walking in the middle of the night, you can't help but notice that the person that was walking in front of you all of a sudden started to change direction or walked on the other side of the road because they're seeing you. But whether that was spontaneous, they were going to walk on the other side of the road, or whether it's because they saw you, you'll never know. So you carry this thing on your shoulder. I joked the other day, and this is a terrible joke, by the way, but a friend of mine asked me, aren't you scared when you're walking at night? Like, aren't you under threat? And I said to her, I think I'm the threat. When I'm walking, yeah, because I don't know. For some reason you still, I'm not proud of this feeling, but you carry it on your shoulders that, you know, black men, there is a stigma that we are gangsters, we do that, we do this. But I'm learning not to carry that guilt any longer and just say, I'm going to be myself because wherever I'm placed on this planet, I'll always be myself. And yeah, it's been an interesting time.
Maria ChristodoulouI can imagine it's really complicated to find yourself in a space like Oxford as a black man. I think that's why I was so intrigued by your comment about becoming part of the living memory of that place. And that in a sense, I think I'd be worried about you if you weren't to some degree aware of what it means to walk through those corridors as a black man. And you know, you talk about drenched in sin, and I have such a sense of like this blanket of stuff that doesn't even belong to you.
Wonderful KhumaloDoesn't belong. Yes.
Maria ChristodoulouGoing back 400 years and the pillars of society that represent that colonial experience are right there. You are in the thick of it. And yeah, it's interesting for me also to hear you talk about being a young black man and walking around feeling like you are the threat. Because as a white woman, my own conditioning, of course, has been to be afraid of young black men. And so there is that, you know, like I know that I've been guilty of crossing the road because I was afraid. Or being brave and trying not to cross the road so that I can be politically correct and then putting myself in harm's way or in danger.
Wonderful KhumaloBecause yeah, the opposite is also true.
Maria ChristodoulouYes, yes, so the complexities and that intersection of these different realities, and I imagine it's somewhat of a disorienting dilemma to be in a place like Oxford, coming from where you come from. But I'm so glad that people like you are now at Oxford.
Wonderful KhumaloYes, yes, absolutely. I mean, I was having this conversation with a professor here, Elena Lombardi, and we were talking about the possibilities of bringing more and more people from the quote-unquote global south. That's one of the revolutionary things that Oxford can do. I mean, Oxford does that pretty well. It brings people from around the world. But everywhere I walk, I'm usually one of the very few black people in there. I currently serve on the in-dorm student committee. I'm the only black person there. Of course, I serve with people who don't necessarily make me feel like I'm black. So it's like we just get there, we do the work, but it's a reality I live through. That when you look at the poster, when you only see one black person, I am the only black person. In my cohort of people that came, both masters and PhD, I was one of two black people. The other black female was from Kenya, right? So I'm the only black South African there. Where I live in my building, I'm the only black person. So you see this quite clearly, right? You see this quite clearly. And sometimes it may not be because there's racism. No, I'm just saying you have to be aware of the space in which you exist because that influences you whether you like it or not. Your environment really does play a role in who you are, who you become. And I think instead of seeing it as a threat, I'm seeing it as a strength. So the fact that I'm the only black person on the committee means black people are getting somewhere. The fact that I'm the only black person in the building means there's a space for black people here. The fact that a black person like me can be offered a job... I just recently got offered the job of junior dean at the college. The fact that a black person like me from Katlehong can be given a junior dean role in not even six months of arriving at Oxford means something to me. It means that all I have to do is just go back home, put on a loudspeaker, and say, guys, there's an opportunity for us up there where there's more opportunities, where there's more money, more resources. Let's go. Right? So that's what it means to me now.
Maria ChristodoulouDo you ever feel the weight of that as a burden? That weight of representing something bigger than yourself.
Wonderful KhumaloI can't recall a question you asked that didn't sting me. Beautiful questions. Wow. Absolutely. I think it's every day, but I'm learning how to carry it well. It is a burden. It is a burden. Me and my friends and some of my colleagues that we work with at Wrap-It-Up Wits Medical Society, we live by Charlotte Maxeke's quote that says, Don't live above your people, but live with them. And if you can rise, bring someone with you. But also to, ultimately, the ethos is that the work is not for yourself. But even that, so even though we carry that beautifully, it is a burden to know that if I wanted to tap out now, I wouldn't just be in the firing line. People that look up to me go, if he left, then... I left clinical medicine for teaching, and I left clinical medicine for research. And I think when I was in clinical medicine, I was fulfilling my purpose, but my purpose was not fulfilling me. And that was an interesting thing. So when I left clinical medicine, people thought I left because it was very difficult. And I left it at a very early age in my career, six months into my internship. People thought I left because it was difficult. And so they started feeling that if he leaves, then what does it mean for us? Because he's one of the most resilient people we know. That burden is serious, even though you are making decisions that are for your own benefit and for your own upward mobility. And ultimately, by the way, I took a pivot into research, public advocacy, lecturing, teaching, because I know I can reach more upcoming healthcare professionals than I would have reached when I was in the hospital. And I can spend most of my time thinking as opposed to running around in the hospital, being on call and whatever, which I think there are people who are called for that. I don't think I was called for that. I was called to be on the other side of the ground, and that is ensuring that whoever we feed into the pipeline of medical school, when they leave on the other end to go and serve in the hospital, they know who they are. They won't have imposter syndrome, they know how to treat people with dignity, they understand their role, and they're not just casually floating as bystanders. So when I did that, when I made that transition, I knew it was for the betterment of society, but also it was good for me. But when I took that decision, even the people that I love and care about the most, they said, yoh, if you leave, then what does it mean for us? And so that burden, I carry it on my shoulders every day. It gets heavy, but I know ultimately that my story is by design, it is orchestrated by the most high, and all I am to be is a vessel and keep giving of myself in a way that I'm called to be and not necessarily rest on people's preferences for my journey, even though they mean well.
Maria ChristodoulouI wrote down the words of one of your poems that I found online. It was called Cover Me.
Wonderful KhumaloAh man, 2019. Ah, yes.
Maria ChristodoulouAnd this section in particular stood out for me.
Wonderful KhumaloThat's a very old poem. Wow.
Maria ChristodoulouWell, that's why I'm wondering if you would say something different today. But this section in particular, you said, if only you knew how many battles I have to endure before mustering the courage to say I love you, when these three words are foreign to me.
Wonderful KhumaloOh man.
Maria ChristodoulouI battle with self-love, I battle with trust. I battle with the same demons I should be friends with, with two left feet I cannot dance with, a worn-out soul I can't get a second chance with.
Healing The Young Boy Within
Wonderful KhumaloYes. Wow. I wish I could transfer my bodily experience to you now so you can feel the goosebumps traveling through my body. One of the first few poems I wrote when I got to university. That was a beautiful time. But to answer your question, would I say something different? Probably no. Because when I said that, I was at a point where I was not trying to mince my words. Words such as I love you, which were foreign to me, I always say... I was saying to a friend of mine, Kanye, the other day, and I was saying to her, it's very difficult when you are a Wonderful Khumalo to other people, to find a Wonderful for yourself. Because when you live a life of service and you're giving to other people, people often think that you're fine. So when you say I love you a lot to a lot of people, many of them may think that you've probably... Obviously we pour from what we have. So they think he's already filled with all this love. He doesn't need us to remind him that he's great or that we love him. That's what that part was relating to, to say they are foreign to me, not because I don't feel the love, but because people feel tha, He's fine, man. He's all right. He doesn't need any help. That's why he's helping us because he's fine. And I think I'm an unreliable source right now because I wrote this six, seven years ago. But as far as I can recollect from that moment when I wrote that, I was in a space where I'm talking to this imaginary female, and I'm trying to say, hey, man, at the core of it, I'm just human, you know? And I'm flawed, hence the with two left feet I cannot dance with. So I'm flawed, I'm human, I stumble, I rise, I fall, I rise, I fall. And ultimately, it is with this heart that has been beaten and battered over all those years that I'm presenting the whole essence of who I am. And then it goes back to the title, Cover Me, because it's like the vulnerability of the eight-year-old Wonderful who lost his father, the vulnerability of the 17-year-old Wonderful who lost his mother. And then, I didn't know it at that point, but it is also the vulnerability of the mid-20s year old Wonderful who lost his grandmother, who just says, as much as I'll do all these great things for you, I would still appreciate it if you cover me. So nurture the young boy so that... Or help heal the young boy, so that the man will have a space to arise and protect and do all these other things. But over time I've realized since then, till now I've realized that it is my responsibility to heal the young boy so that the man has space to show up and not get into relationships, whether romantic or be in friendships or in my professional spaces, not get into that as a young boy and hope that society will pardon me. So it is my responsibility as a young man to heal the young boy and give him all that he needs. If he needs validation, give him validation. If he needs love, give him love. If he needs, I don't know, taking care of, do that. Because ultimately the skeletons that we leave unresolved will only come back to haunt us. And that's been the theme of my life. I've seen this transcend throughout many of my romantic relationships where I feel that it's largely because I wanted other people. I was healing, but I was bleeding over other people as well. And I thought that it is justifiable to say that I was hurt as a kid. And ultimately, you only tend to lose great people in your life when you do that because you can only bleed on someone for so long. And where I find myself now is I absolutely, absolutely have to heal that young boy. And that's the work I've been doing. And I think I've done a great job, but it's a continuous process. He'll always be alive, that eight-year-old boy who doesn't have a father. And how much I take care of him determines how much he ultimately takes care of me.
Maria ChristodoulouThere was also a line in Cold Reality that stood out for me.
Wonderful KhumaloCold real...
Maria ChristodoulouAnd the line was...
Wonderful KhumaloI am being exposed here. Yes.
Maria ChristodoulouMy prayers bounce back. So I resorted to writing.
Wonderful KhumaloYour research skills are formidable. Because you actually watched entire videos. Wow. Yes. That was a time when I was really going through a lot spiritually. This was 2019, I was in first year, and it was a time when I felt that God is not responding to me. I used to have so many nights where I cried during that time when I felt alone. I felt deserted. And so it was true. I resorted to writing because that's why at that time I just had poem and poem and poem coming out. And I felt very disconnected from God. But then later on in life, I learned of a beautiful quote that said, When you feel distant from God, who moved? And that, it's a question that I reflect on every single... Well, as much as I can, not every day, but as much as I can, I reflect upon it to say, if I say my God was the same yesterday, same today, will be the same tomorrow, and is not moving, is always in one place. When I feel that I'm distant from this higher power, who moved? Was it God that moved away from me, or was it me who drifted away? And I realize I drifted away because I asked questions like, why would you take away my mother at that age? My mother passed on when she was 43. And I'm like, she wanted to see me become a doctor, and she didn't even see me get to matric. So in what world is that... And if you were trying to teach me a lesson on resilience, couldn't you have used something else? Couldn't you have made me repeat a year? Because that's something that you can fix. But when your parent is gone and now you are orphaned, it becomes something that's inexplicable and you can't really, really put it into words. So I retracted from my spirituality and I was just writing, writing, writing. So that's what I meant by my prayers bounce back. So I resorted to writing.
Maria ChristodoulouYeah. I was touched by that. Just the idea that one resorts to writing to express things that you have no other way to have a dialogue with something bigger than yourself.
Wonderful KhumaloYeah, absolutely.
Maria ChristodoulouYou also said to me last time that you are on a spiritual journey, and then you went on to say it's a mess, an unfinished puzzle. This will always be an unfinished story.
Wonderful KhumaloYeah. I say that quite a lot. And there's one poem that I wrote around November, it explains why my poems don't end in full stops. So if you see all the poems I've written, I don't put a full stop because I always feel that it's one big poem. One might be talking about love, the other about religion, the other about slavery, the other about grief and loss and death. Because I write along those themes, but none of them have a full stop at the end. If it's a full stop that you see on a screen, then it means it wasn't a poem. It was just something that I just wrote from my head. But all my poems, like Sinners Lament, no full stop. And it's because it's always going to be an unfolding story. And that's why it links to me saying, I'll never fully heal the young boy. What he went through was permanent. But I can always mitigate how much he affects how much his wounds bleed on me or on other people. I can always tame him. So my story is never finished. Even the day that I die, after that, because of all the things I've given out to the world and writing and speaking, I know people forget human beings. I know at some point I'll probably be a faint memory, but I would have made an impact to whoever got to witness my life. And I think that's all of us. It's not unique to me. All of us, our stories, you know, there's this phrase, we never die, we multiply. For me, it's a testament to that. My story will never end. It will keep going. And for as long as I have a voice, for as long as I have the brain, the story, I will keep writing. And I will show the world that there is power in revealing vulnerability, even by the way, as someone who should be expected to have their things all together. And this platform has proven to be exactly that. There's always going to be a story behind the glory.
Maria ChristodoulouWell, I find myself wondering what you mean when you say I'll never be fully healed. What does it mean to be fully healed?
Wonderful KhumaloI think fully healed would probably be like if in simplistic terms, before the hurts. I don't think I'll ever go back. Because if you think about it, if you've got a wound and you're saying it's healed, and you're not saying healing, if you're saying it's healed, you mean it no longer gives you problems. It doesn't ooze, it doesn't pain. Maybe cosmetically there might be an issue, but if you say something is healed, you're talking it as if it's in the past tense. I'll never be fully healed. And I think there's power in that. Because when I say I'm healing, I'm saying it's a work in progress. But when I say I'm healed, I start neglecting that young boy. Because the reality is that we all have young boys and young girls in us. Some are hurt, some aren't. But that young person in you needs to be nurtured. We like to think we're intellectuals, accomplished, we're doing this and that. We're just kids at the end of the day. So it's a work in progress. I never want to say I'm healed. I always want to say I'm healing. And there's power in that.
Maria ChristodoulouI like to think of healing as to make whole. And I think in health we have this idea that often equates healing or health and wholeness with perfection, or that there's no flaw, that there's no scars. It's like it's all perfect. And actually, to make whole is to include everything, including those wounded parts, including that child self who is vulnerable and who will forever carry the impact of those life experiences.
Wonderful KhumaloAbsolutely. Spot on. And whole does not have to be beautiful.
Maria ChristodoulouOr perfect.
Wonderful KhumaloOr perfect. It just has to be meaningful to say I acknowledge all parts of myself, and I'm not ashamed of any part of myself. Any part of myself that makes the world a worse place, I'll work on. All parts of myself that make the world a better place, I will embrace and I will show out there. The world would be a better place if we all didn't feel the need to put on a face every time we put on our clothes, right? The world would be a better place if we all understood we're just human. We're just humans with roles that we play. But other than that, we're just human.
Maria ChristodoulouIt's why I started this platform.
Wonderful KhumaloAh, love it.
Maria ChristodoulouYour LinkedIn profile describes you as a son of the soil.
Wonderful KhumaloYes, I recently changed that, but I had written that for a while. If you check my LinkedIn now, it's written, just a man, but I'll speak on that just now. I had written son of the soil because I believe no matter where I am on this planet, that's my home. So I don't belong to South Africa. I was born in South Africa. I lived in South Africa. But if you place me in Argentina, I will find a home in Argentina. If you place me in Oxford, I'll find a home. So my home is the soil. So that's just to explain that. And then the Just a Man, I'm working on building this brand of Just a Man, where I'll record short videos of myself speaking on particular concepts. I'll speak a lot about religion from a man's perspective, spirituality from a man's perspective, and masculinity and violence on mental health, all these things. So just a man is really just to say, at the core of it, I'm just a man. I may carry the transgressions of my fellow brothers who decided that they were going to go and do egregious things in society, but I'm just a man. And they are just a man as well. I'm not saying exclude me from criticism, or I'm not saying don't hold me accountable, but at the core of it, I'm just a man.
Maria ChristodoulouIs there anything I haven't asked you about that you would like to share?
Gun Violence Research And Hidden Trauma
Wonderful KhumaloFrom the questions you've asked me, wow. I don't think... It would be an indictment on this podcast if I said there's a question you have not asked me. No. I think, yoh, this is the best conversation I've had in a long, long, long time. No, you've helped me uncover so many parts of myself that I haven't spoken about at all. Some in many platforms or in any platform. But I suppose in just two minutes, what I would like to just mention is obviously the work that I'm doing. I intentionally didn't mention it earlier on, because as soon as I start speaking about my research, I talk for 10 minutes, 10 hours. But I'm going to truncate it very, very briefly. So I'm entering the space of research. I'm studying gun violence. That's how I say it in general, that I study gun violence. But if you were to look at the project specifically, I study the epidemiology... So how common, particularly how common gunshot fractures are. So I like simplifying the explanation. So people get shot every day in South Africa. On average, there's about 30 to 33 people that get shot every single day in all corners of South Africa. The most common place where people get shot is actually not their head, it's not their stomach, it's not their heart, it's not their chest, it's their bones. So it's their limbs. So their upper limbs, lower limbs, right? Their legs, their hands, their arms. So I'm looking at how commonly do people get shot in their bones? And basically after that, what happens in terms of the outcomes? So clinical outcomes. What happens to their bones? Do they get an infection? Do they get an amputation? Does it matter if you're in South Africa, in Malawi, in Tanzania, what will happen to you? Does it matter if you're in an urban or rural area, what will happen to you? And then I look at the functional outcomes. If you shoot a former cricket player or a cricket player or a rugby player or a soccer player or a breadwinner, if you shoot them and they can't use that leg because they're now... they get amputated, what happens to them functionally? Are they able to regain their function? How quickly do they regain their function? And what are some of the lived realities with regard to function? Then just briefly in terms of like economic burden. So on average, how much does it cost the patients to seek help from clinics and hospitals? And then the big part of my project is lived experience or lived realities. So I'm looking at, we know somewhat what happens to patients who come to the hospital. We know what happens in the hospital, but very little is documented in the literature in terms of what happens to them in terms of their lived experiences. So what happens to you mentally having to deal with gun violence? What happens to you in the community? Because when we discharge you, you go back to the same community where you got shot. So living in an area where there's an ongoing exposure to violence, what happens to you there? What is the psychological burden that you've got to carry? What is your experience of the healthcare system? The doctor that treated you, that nurse that saw you, that physiotherapist that is helping you with rehabilitation, that occupational therapist, the porter that pushed you on a wheelchair. So essentially, what is the lived experience of living with gunshot injuries to the bones? What a lot of people don't know is that injuries account for more deaths and disability worldwide compared to HIV, TB, malaria, cancer, and heart disease put together. They kill and disable more people than all these conditions put together.
Maria ChristodoulouSo hang on, when you say injury, are we talking broadly speaking, any kind of injury, not just gunshots?
Wonderful KhumaloNot just gunshots. So I'm talking road traffic injuries. I'm talking interpersonal violence, assault, direct assault, occupational injuries. And by the way, 90% of those injuries, especially those of fractures, happen in sub-Saharan Africa. So they happen only in this little continent of ours, right? And it's very interesting that also when you look at the workforce, the health workforce, most of them are in developed nations. Because everyone is leaving these poor countries saying, I want a better life for myself. I'm not getting paid enough there. But that's where most injuries are happening. But also in terms of research funding, most of it goes to infectious diseases, non-communicable diseases, but we're not addressing the hidden pandemic that is trauma. So that's what my research is looking at. I'm in the space of global injury, but my focus is particularly with gunshots. But I'm currently collaborating with people with other forms of injury because I want to speak about these things. And what I might consider looking at in the future is the psychology of gun ownership. I know some people have done work there, but I also want to contribute to that space. Why do people feel the need to have a gun? Because actually, having a gun in the home triples your risk of suicide and doubles your risk of homicide. So guns don't actually make you feel safer in your home. It may feel like it makes you feel safer, but the research shows otherwise. So I'm interested in doing that. So yeah, I just wanted to yap a little bit about the work that is interesting for me.
Maria ChristodoulouThat's exciting. I'm looking forward to knowing the outcomes of your research. I think that it can add enormous value to our experience as clinicians in this country.
Wonderful KhumaloAbsolutely. And by the way, my research is done in South Africa. So I might be in Oxford, but I'm going to be interviewing patients from the Western Cape. So I'm doing it through the University of Cape Town, through the Global Injury Group. But I'll be comparing some of that information to Malawi and Tanzania because we've got a team that works there as well through the Global Injury Group. So I'll be looking at it from a low and middle-income country perspective. So I'm not doing any work in the UK actually. I think I'm just here to see the beautiful castles.
Maria ChristodoulouTo become part of the living memory of that place.
Wonderful KhumaloAnd to be part of the living memory, absolutely.
Closing Advice And Final Reflections
Maria ChristodoulouAnything you'd like to say in closing to people that might be listening to this conversation and have made it this far.
Wonderful KhumaloThank you for listening. Yeah, thank you for listening. I hope whatever you heard today, even if it's one thing, it has transformed your life in one way or another. I don't tell my story as a token, I tell my story as an instrument of change. And I'm hoping that we were able to share and you had an incredible experience going through the journey from the Thabiso in grade two who lost his father, to Wonderful Thabiso Khumalo now, who is supposedly doing all these great things, but he believes it's grace. And I hope and I speak life unto you. And even to you too, Maria, I speak life unto you. Thank you for the conversation. And I hope you continue having these conversations with many more people. Don't underestimate the power that this space has. It is healing in more ways than you think. I told you on the previous chat we had that the name, The Awakening Doctor, has a lot of force behind it. Your podcast is aptly named because we are essentially awakening to ourselves that we are called to be when we have these conversations with you. And what I want to encourage your listeners is keep having the tough conversations, keep uncovering that young person in you. Keep digging deep. The world will be a better place with you in it, but it would be a much better place with the healing version of you in it. So don't be afraid to be vulnerable. Put yourself out there. And my story is one of a guy who just refused to settle for what was around him. And he put his name out there. And if there's a parent who's listening to this, the amount of belief you infuse in your child will ultimately propel that child to great heights. I'm who I am because of my family and my parents. They made me who I am today. We can only pour from what we have. So if you pour goodness into your child, they will likely pour goodness into the world. So thank you for the conversation. I really, really appreciated it. It has in many ways changed my life.
Maria ChristodoulouThank you. Thank you for trusting me enough to show up and share your story and for your vulnerability in the sharing of that story. And thank you also for embodying, you know, we use the word Ubuntu a lot and we use it very easily in South Africa. And it's kind of almost become a little bit of a cliche. But I think in the way that you show up and in the way you tell your story and the fact that you named all these different people, I think you must be the first guest so far who has actively named so many different people who have contributed to their journey. And more often than not, you spoke about we, not I, when you were telling the story and you were sharing experiences. So it feels like you really do embody the spirit of what is possible when we can come together as a community, when we do support each other, when we do rely on each other. And the idea that I am because you are feels very much part of your story. But there's also this thread of the light that is you and the strength of your spirit, because I feel like we've touched on some of the painful experiences, but I'm sure I have not even an inkling of the depths of despair to which you have sunk at times and the level of loss and grief and questioning that may have been a part of this journey. So the fact that you can sit here and give testimony to the positive stuff and the amazing places your journey is taking you, and that you still have this commitment to service, I think is profound. And I am grateful to have you as a colleague, and I am excited for you about what you will share with the world.
Wonderful KhumaloThank you. I really appreciate those words.
Maria ChristodoulouThank you, Thabiso. I'm Dr. Maria Christodoulou, and you've been listening to the Awakening Doctor Podcast. If you enjoyed this conversation, please share it with your friends, follow Awakening Doctor on Instagram, Facebook, and Spotify, and go to Apple Podcasts to subscribe, rate, and give us a good review. Thank you so much for listening.