Tshepo taught me a lesson at the Maseru wedding

Like when you have met a guy who effortlessly decodes bible verses and regularly wears suits to church. Right there, you conclude: This “church” guy does not go to parties; there’s no way in hell that he could know how to party-dance… maybe to a Joyous Celebration tune, yes; but not to ‘khona’ of Mafikizolo.

Life is supposed to teach us better, and harshly. My friends have been the generous teachers to me. Because of it, I can argue that first impressions last until someone shows you who they really are. In other words: do not judge the book by its cover. It is suicidal to assume that “pastor” cannot groove-dance. I know this because I have not seen the groom who dances the way Siphiwe Moyo was dancing a few years ago. The guy had us clapping for him even his bride looked surprised. My impressions of him were turned upside-down.

But people like me who crammed their way through school never learn. Back in 2003 my friend and I attended a wedding in Maputsoe. Ficksburg is on the border into Lesotho and Maputsoe is the first town in. It was June. The proceedings at the wedding were long and moving at a snail’s pace. The Roma church, with stone wall structure and corrugated iron roof, was absolutely cold inside. Basotho prefer a long programme and those who go up to speak tend to indulge. As a last resort, many of us slipped out to bask in the sun.

For the reception, the convoy sped off to Maseru. As we were eating, and those who go for broke when buffet they didn’t pay for is on offer were helping themselves to more dessert, the DJ pummeled us with great tunes. I remained glued to my seat. Courage stood between me and the dance floor. Tshepo Neito, a friend with whom we crossed the border from SA to support the bride, stood up, removed his jacket and proceeded to the stage. My jaw dropped as I watched Tshepo do what I think only Zakes Bantwini and Micasa combined can come up with. How could he have learned to get down like that, I wandered.

Until then I had known Tshepo to be a quiet fellow who for the most part appeared to be in deep thought. He effortlessly read mounds of university statutes and financials. He could use that ability to tear university management to pieces, much to the delight of the likes of us who feared thick documents yet pining for leadership positions. Tshepo was the type of guy who hardly missed church. No nights out; no beer with the guys. So on that day I was mortified by how I had boxed him into a confined "pastor" space.

As we were driving back from Lesotho, I was telling him how wrong I have been about him. Tshepo giggled himself silly, as if to say ‘I have taught you a lesson! Do not read a book by its cover.’ Clearly I had forgotten this elusive lesson when I attended Siphiwe’s wedding four years later. I just never learn… that my first impressions about a person will be challenged, and that I should judge the book by what’s in the pages.