I grew up in Lavender Hill, a suburb in Cape Town South Africa, during a time where everyone in our neighborhood treated each other like family.

I remember the words of my mom "Come put on your pink dress, because we going on an outing." My dads name was Benjamin; Mani was his nickname. My moms name was Sarah; Salle was what my dad would call her.

Wearing my pretty pink dress was only for special occasions. Low and behold it was to go and see the community my parents were thrown into with the new by-laws called the GROUP AREAS ACT. They were forcefully removed and was told to go see the house on the what they called "CAPEFLATS".

I remembered how tears filled my dad's eyes because he had to leave the place of his birth called District Six.

"Don't worry" was the words of my mom to comfort him. His tears kept running down his face. At age 5, I didn't understand completely why he was crying, as I have never seen my father cry.

Growing up in Lavender Hill, I developed a love for sports. I took part in netball, hockey and tennis. I didn't get too far because within our communities and growing up in the apartheid era was difficult.

I attended Levona Primary School, which was newly built for the "colored community". Walking to school barefoot, as the youngest of ten children and my father the only bread winner, it was difficult. I remember coming home from school, I cried so much, because I missed the food line at school and there was no food at home. My friend gave me dry bread with sugar and a little bit of water.

My school attendance was not good at all. The school was very strict with the uniform and wouldn't allow you entry if you didn't have the proper attire on. I always tried to surround myself with kids that are "higher" than me. We could only play and walk in restricted areas due to the apartheid regulations. I remembered when myself and a few of my friends went to the beach that was for whites only. We were chased and beaten up by the police.

When I got home another beating was waiting because of my disobedience. I became rebellious, angry, frustrated and started building hatred towards the system. Listening to my dads stories of his birth place and where were was building more anger in me. He helped me once with a school project. He drew the whole of the district six on a poster which gave me a good mark and favor from my teacher.

My community was getting worse every day. Crime, drugs, abuse, and domestic violence was the order of the day. At 16, I dropped out of school to take care of my sickly mother who had a bad stroke. Things got worse and poverty increased. My father developed a bad drinking habit. Many times I cried myself to sleep due to the disorder in our home. I slept on the floor for years, as our house was overcrowded.

I developed a low self-esteem and an inferior complex. My mother would always say, "My kind eendag gaan alles regkom," my child one day everything will be okay. With domestic violence on the increase, poverty all around us, gang violence and crime, I literally gave up on life. Sitting in a corner trying to hide myself from all the eyes and people, my hatred and anger increased. I was bullied many times and called so many names, even my grade six teacher told me I stink.

The embarrassment flooded my whole being, and I felt helpless. The class laughed out so loud, and they started calling me all sorts of names. At a very young age, I learned to endure and press on. I chose to serve God. My high school days got worse. I wanted to quit and run away from home. The screaming of mothers who were beaten up, gunshots, children crying for help, overcrowded households, early pregnancies and the abuse that went on and on. I felt so helpless.

The aunty on the opposite side of the road shouted "Bell asseblief die poicie" meaning "please call the police." This is because her husband is beating her to a pulp. My parents raised us to respect the elderly and not to get involved in their business.

At the age of 18, I met my then boyfriend. It was love at first sight. He was Johannes Maarman, a well-respected and disciplined young man. We walked together when I joined the youth to get away from my dysfunctional family.

I shared a lot of my pain with him; his comfort and peaceful spirit embraced me. Soon after he was sharing his story with me, which was the first time I heard that his dad left them at a young age. He was the middle child of 12 and our stories let us embrace and complete each other. At the ages of 23, we got married and we shared a beautiful marriage as Christ was the center of it all.

Fear got a hold of me when I think of his story about his father who left his mother for another woman. He told me "Ek sal die pa vir my kinders wees weet my pa nie was nie" meaning I will be the father for my kids I never had. Out of our marriage two children were born named Candice and Israel. Candice was the first born; I was proud to be a mother for the very first time.

Still I have been walking around with fear every day of my life thinking "Am I also going to be a single mom?" Nine years later my son Israel was born and fear still got a hold of me. The tender loving care praying and hardworking father "Hannes" like I used to call him every step of the way. His patients and kindness was overwhelming. My kids grew up with the help of God and a prayerful family.

When my son turned 2 years old, we decided to go into full time ministry and take up the 'faith' life. My life took a total different turn as a repeat of poverty and struggling came back again. He started homeschooling our son. After being married for 27 years, life was slowly getting better.

On the 12th of March 2018, life took a bad turn. It was the saddest day of my entire life. He left the earth to be with the Lord. I was angry at God, people and the church.

Through constant prayer God gave me the answer and embraced me with His love; what a humble servant of the Lord. Nothing looked the same after his passing. I kept feeding the community and living his legacy. We feed 450 people twice a week and every second my heart misses my husband so much. I buried him with dignity and pride.

Two and a half years later, I still live his legacy. I am involved in community outreaches for the last 20 years. We provide food to families in desperate need. The end goal is a safe house for vulnerable women and children that come from toxic, abusive situations. We never had much but know what it is not to have. I want to impact as many people especially women and children in any way possible. I believe God can turn any situation around regardless of what we facing.

My mess became my message. There is hope for the hopeless situations. I love unconditionally. I didn't grow up with manicured hands and saloned hair.

Today, in the most notorious gang related community of Cape Town South Africa, I allowed God to use me as His vessel to let Him work in my life. My childhood was full of hurts, abuse, rejection, abandonment, and dysfunctionality. It was the most painful experience that I've been through. Today I am completely transformed.