
Let me tell you about a man named Khanare Khanare — yes, that is his name, and I only learned it yesterday, because all along to me, he was just Ntate Ganare since he is also way older than me. His name is both his first and last name. How powerful is that? I first met Ntate Khanare in October of last year.
The way we met speaks to the magic of the universe, and my belief that people come into our lives for a reason. Two years ago, when I discovered my incredible spiritual gift, I stopped believing in coincidence. I now see purpose in every connection, and this story with Khanare is no exception.
It was a warm October evening when I set out for my village in the Eastern Cape. The trip was part of my WOSSO fellowship journey, tied to a GBV advocacy project I am implementing in the community. (For more on this, check out my blog on the Backlash in rural setting, the fight for the village’s first woman chief.) Travelling long distances by public transport has always been a joy for me. It’s a way to connect with people, hear their stories, and share mine. I’ve always believed that the journey itself is as meaningful as the destination.
To prepare for this trip, I reached out to Ntate Kheule, a member of the taxi association that manages the route. These were familiar faces; many of them are Basotho nationals, and their lives are deeply intertwined with the people of my village, which borders Lesotho.
When I called Ntate Kheule to confirm my arrangements, he assured me everything was ready. But when the taxi arrived, I found out the taxi I was supposed to leave with had already departed. I was disappointed but refused to let it derail my plans. I turned to the two men outside our residence and asked, “What’s the plan, majita?” (What’s the plan, gentlemen?)
The two men sprang into action, making calls to arrange another way for me to travel. Meanwhile, I invited them into our space for snacks and drinks, and we spent hours laughing and sharing stories. Time passed, but no immediate plan emerged. Still, I was determined. “Today is the day,” I said firmly. “I’ve prayed over this journey. It’s blessed. We must leave today.”
Eventually, one of the men, who I now know as Ntate Khanare suggested we leave that night, even though their initial plan was to depart the next morning. My heart soared.
Our three-person journey began as we drove to Delft to pick up the trailer. While we waited for it to be loaded, I joined the lively energy of a local pub. I would learn later that it is owned by the taxi owner Ntate Ganare works for. One thing about me is that, I’m the kind of person who embraces every moment — why wait in the taxi when there’s life happening all around? From the pub to the open road, the trip was filled with laughter, shared food, and the camaraderie of strangers quickly becoming friends.
Along the way, we picked up hitchhikers, helping them reach their destinations. It was a day of pure kindness and joy. I remember Ntate Khanare saying to each hitchhiker today is your lucky day, we travel with this kind and beautiful lady so come in, let's go, whatever amount you have, bring it, let's go.
When we finally reached Sterkspruit, around 10am. My mother called to warn me about the long wait for village taxis at the rank. Hearing this, Ntate Khanare and his companion, Ntate Tsidi, offered to take me directly to my village. It was an act of generosity that I’ll never forget.
They drove me right to my home, where my mother and daughter greeted me with open arms. The joy of reuniting with them was unmatched. Before leaving, Khanare and Tsidi even offered my cousin Nyanga a ride to town. These men, who had been strangers just hours earlier, felt like family.
After that journey, we exchanged contacts and stayed in touch. Whenever I was in town, we met up and shared laughs. Their kindness extended far beyond that first trip. Later in the year, when I suffered a stroke and couldn’t travel as planned, they were among the first to check on me. They called me daily, ensuring I had the medicine and support I needed. Even coordinating with the people in Delft to rush to visit me and bring me this and that.
Their care during such a difficult time touched me deeply. I think what touched me more is that, the are people I had known longer than them and they couldn't even care to check up on me even though they knew I had almost died. This was such a humbling experience for me. This experience with them gave birth to a new level of wisdom in me. I carry this wisdom with me into the new year and it feels so good.
Two days ago, I had a dream about Ntate Khanare. In the dream, he visited me, concerned about my health. We laughed, talked about money, which I very much need, and he pointed to a fridge in my home, saying, “There’s your money. Take it.” When I looked at the fridge, It was written R241,000. In real life, I don’t have a fridge, but in the dream, there it was, standing as a symbol of abundance and possibility. I woke up feeling excited and wondered about the dream’s meaning.
Soon after, I noticed a WhatsApp message from Ntate Khanare. He had sent it at around 5am already, before I woke up from the dream. In the voicenote he told me he was on his way to Cape Town and wanted to see me and speak to me about something important. When him and his colleagues eventually arrived, he asked for a private conversation. What followed was one of the most profound moments of my life.
Ntate Khanare broke my heart with his moving life story. So what I have picked up about myself, is that I posses the ability for people to feel free enough to trust me with their life challenges and deepest secrets. I have no control over this gift, things just happen bangani. It comes with the gift.
Ntate Khanare began by telling me about how he lives in dire poverty, working as a taxi driver and earning very little. He was so emotional and so was I. We literally had an unplanned cry session and it felt good, because I am also just going through a lot and I am trying to be strong everyday, but I also needed that crying.
He explained to me that most of his small earnings go toward supporting his mother, his sister and five nieces back in Lesotho. His father died when he was still young so he had to leave school, look for a job to look after the family. At a young age he had to be a breadwinner for his entire family. I can pick up that he worries about his frail mother back in Lesotho.
With only just grade nine, he used to work as a truck driver, but his work permit expired, and he has struggled to renew it ever since. One problem after another has kept him in a cycle of hardship. Including one about how he woke up one day at night only to see a woman almost in a seated position behind his door, passing solid waste. No, he wasn't dreaming if that's what you thought. This was very real. Back in 2016 he says.
The woman immediately disappeared, he chased after the woman and couldn't find her. All he was just left with was the smell of the feces. which he had to throw out. Strange right? yes, but you see bangani, when you come to fully understand that there is no such thing as "normal" in this world, you will know that these things happen and they are so real.
Listening to his story, I felt his pain deeply because I, too, know what it’s like to face life’s endless challenges.
As we spoke, I offered him something to eat and asked if he’d like to take a bath, after all he had been driving from the previous night and the whole day yesterday, delivering people from Worcester to Phillipi. He stopped by because he said he needed to speak to me and it sounded serious, so why not extend kindness to a man that looks so troubled by something I was also eager to hear.
I began to prepare the food while he was bathing, I suddenly had a vision: Help this man. It was clear and undeniable. I won't lie, I got scared there. It was my first time experiencing this in my spiritual journey.
When he came out, I shared the vision with him. He looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, “Yes, my sister. In fact, the day I met you, something in me changed. You inspired me. Since that day, I couldn’t get you out of my mind — not in a romantic way, but your face stayed with me, even when I closed my eyes. I told my friend about you, and in December, I told my mother. She reminded me of something.”
He explained that when he described me to his mother, she said, “Remember what someone once told you? They said you’d meet a beautiful, kind woman, with a special gift who would help you. The way you describe this woman, I think she might be the one.” "Keep her close to you" his mother said.
Khanare continued, “Hearing that made me realize you might be the person they spoke of. I began praying even harder for your healing from the stroke. I asked Modimo le Badimo to keep you alive and well until we meet again. If anything happened to you, it would mean I wouldn’t get the kind of help I so desperately need. But I also prayed because I wanted you to be okay, because another thing is, since the day I found out you had the stroke, my right shoulder has been painful in a way I cannot explain.
I had hope you’d get stronger, and here we are.”
His words left me in awe. The universe had orchestrated our meeting with such precision. This wasn’t chance; it was destiny.
I said, ok, I can help the best way I have been trained how, by my spiritual leaders. There goes my evening, but it was time, and so last night, Ntate Khanare and I worked through his challenges together and of course, we began with a powerful prayer. I didn't know I could pray like that, but as my spiritual leaders would say, I am one of their best students and I am growing stronger everyday in this journey.
Let me be honest with you bangani, I stayed up all night while he slept because a part of me was worried something might go wrong. It was my first time having to heal someone like that, by myself, with no guidance from KG or Baba Nsibande. But then it was time and I had to fullfill my responsibilities and umntwana wethongo, destined to bring healing to those with broken souls like me.
After sharing with Ntate Khanare that my great-grandmother hailed from Lesotho, specifically from a place called Thaba Bosiu, he graciously took me on a journey through the rich history of the Basotho people. As he spoke, I felt as though I were transported to Lesotho itself. He explained that King Moshoeshoe is buried at Thaba Bosiu, making it one of Lesotho's most revered tourist attractions.
With warmth in his voice, he invited me to his home and extended an invitation to visit Lesotho, saying, "My sister, there you will meet people with a similar gift as yours. You will enjoy it." His words touched my heart deeply, and I couldn't help but feel a profound connection to the place and the people he spoke of.
By morning, Ntate Khanare woke up smiling, saying he had never slept so peacefully in his life. “I even forgot I was in Cape Town!” he joked. He stretched, jogged in place, and declared, “This is my year. I can feel it. Everything is about to come right for me.” below is a picture he just sent me while I was busy with this blog. Dressed like a proper MoSotho man. Ooh I love his new energy.

Seeing his joy filled my heart. He sent me voice notes throughout the day, sharing his excitement and gratitude. He was like a boy with a new toy, full of life and hope. I couldn’t be happier for him. My mother and brother are just as happy for him as I kept sharing his voice notes with them.
I often pray to God and my ancestors, saying, “These hands are made by you. You’ve given me a gift to pray and provide medicine to those who are broken inside. May my hands heal them. May I be led by you in this journey.” Helping Ganare reminded me of the purpose behind my gift. To heal.
Here's another twist, when I was back home in October, I had a dream about two Basotho men seeking help from Baba Nsibande, one of my spiritual leaders and a character from my book about my father, my ancestral lineage, and the spiritual battles in my village.
In the dream, I was Baba Nsibande’s translator because he doesn’t speak Sesotho. When I shared the dream with him, he said, “It means Basotho people will come seeking help. You must attend to them in my absence.” That prophecy came true with Khanare.
To my dear friend Ntate Khanare, I say: thank you for trusting me, for inspiring me, and for reminding me of the beauty in human connection.
This is just the beginning of your journey, and I’m honored to walk it with you.
Modimo le Badimo are with us, guiding the way. Lesedi le Mahlohonolo ntate.
See you soon.