Stellenbosch — Alma Mater & Town

Stellenbosch, 1982–1986 — A Memory That Still Breathes

There are seasons in life that stay lit, no matter how many years pass. My time in Stellenbosch during 1982 and 1986 is one of those rare stretches of life that still glow as if they are held in a lamp behind my ribs. I was young, raw, searching, and carried by the kind of hope that only early adulthood can produce — a hope that refuses to believe anything could truly go wrong.

In those years, music became the quiet narrator of my days. Among the voices I returned to most was Leonard Cohen — not for the sorrow people often associate with him, but for his unusual honesty. His songs had a way of reflecting what I could not yet say out loud: the mix of longing, tenderness, mistakes, and the stubborn belief that—despite everything—life offers moments that will be alright, even if only for a while.

Stellenbosch was where love first felt real — warm, human, imperfect, and unforgettable. There were rooms small enough to make two people feel like the centre of the world, and nights when the simplest smile eased every uncertainty. There were promises made with the confidence of youth, and paths taken that would shape everything that followed. Some choices healed, some hurt, and some only revealed their meaning years later.

Looking back, I see two young people trying to make sense of the world, fumbling but sincere. There were evenings filled with laughter, mornings marked by quiet closeness, and unexpected arrivals at the door that could turn an ordinary day into a memory I still hold onto. These were some of the finest moments of my early youth — not because they were perfect, but because they were deeply felt.

If I return to those years now, it’s not to rewrite them but to honour them. Stellenbosch gave me a chapter of life filled with intensity, tenderness, missteps, discovery, and the kind of affection that teaches you who you are. It was a time when I believed life could steady itself through a look, a smile, or the simple presence of someone who mattered.

And maybe that is why those memories endure: because even now, decades later, a part of me still knows — that for a brief, bright while, everything truly was fine.