Lessons in leadership, legacy, and love: Growing through the Mandela Rhodes Scholarship

I have approached this piece of writing from a multitude of different directions, beginning at the various stages of our journey: during our interviews for the Mandela Rhodes Scholarship, upon our arrival at the first workshop, at our first-year graduation, our time at the Sustainability Institute, and with our goodbyes to each other last month. But no recount of an interview, meeting, or event could possibly convey the profound effect that being a part of this journey, this cohort, and the legacy of the MRF has had on each and every one of us.

While our first year in residence with the MRF empowered us with the skills to become strong and empathetic leaders, the second-year programme allowed us to apply our learnings from the previous year. More importantly, it provided care and support that grounded us within ourselves and our community. My fellow second-year Scholars and I have spent a considerable amount of time discussing our answers to our interview questions, and how they might differ now. We spoke of our initial impressions of each other, and how our assumptions were proven wrong. We recounted memories of the Scholars who only partook in the first year programme and expressed how we missed them. We also discussed plans to travel to each other's countries, to see each other again.

On the second-to-last day of our final second-year workshop, we were asked to respond to five farewell prompts: What am I letting come? What did I let go of? What did I learn from the people I worked with? And hopes for my fellow scholars. I remain deeply touched by my cohort’s responses. In answer to what we will let come, we agreed on confidence, compassion, and change. To what we are letting go of, fear, self-doubt, and the armour behind which we hide from the world. From each other, we learnt that “to hold space for another creates space for a more expansive version of self,” and for each other, we hope that we remember that “we are, have always been, and will always be wildly capable and full of possibility.”

We have watched each other grow, we have bickered, we have made each other laugh, we have danced, and we have held each other through tremendous grief. In a message to me on my birthday, Dunga Mashilo wrote, “Grateful to have met you, for the memories we have, and the connection that we keep.” I would like to extend this sentiment to the other 43 scholars of the Class of 2024 and to the MRF staff, who taught us to slow down, to lean on community, to continue fighting for a better tomorrow, and to remember that presence is a gift.