From Mthatha to Histology: A Journey Forged in Grit and Curiosity

My name is Vusi Ntywankile, and I am 26 years old.

Today, I am pursuing a Master of Science in Clinical Anatomy at Stellenbosch University, a sentence I still have to repeat to myself just to believe it. This journey has been anything but straight. It has been a winding, unforgiving road, scattered with obstacles that at times felt insurmountable. But with every fall, something in me refused to stay down. Each setback cracked me open, but also let in the light.

It all began in Xunu, a small village outside Mthatha, where my childhood was quiet but filled with questions. At Mandleni Junior Secondary, resources were limited, but my curiosity was loud. I was fascinated by the human body, by life itself. I dreamed of biomedical science. But dreams in places like mine often feel like distant stars: visible, but unreachable.

Then fate whispered.

In 2014, a member of the school governing body at Holy Cross High School, one of Mthatha’s top schools, happened to meet me. A brief conversation, almost forgettable, yet it shifted my entire path. I was accepted into Holy Cross, and the dream felt just a bit closer. But with new opportunity came new difficulty. I had to move to the township to be nearer to school, living alone. The isolation was heavy. I struggled, academically and emotionally. By the end of Grade 11, I barely scraped through, passing by a single percentage point. I remember the ache of that report card, and the sting of advice from a well-meaning relative who suggested I change subjects altogether. I nearly did.

But something in me clenched.

I chose to stay on course. And by September of Grade 12, something had shifted, I was not just passing, I was thriving. Once the one needing help, I became a tutor to some of my classmates. From just above 50%, I rose to one of the most improved students in the grade. I studied like my life depended on it, because in many ways, it did. I matriculated in 2016, with a sense of pride I had never known. Still, the future was foggy. I did not know which direction to take in science. But I knew I had to begin.

I had no acceptance letter. No clear plan. Just a stubborn belief that I belonged in science. So, I walked into Cape Peninsula University of Technology (CPUT) and registered for a Diploma in Biotechnology. Cape Town was a world apart, buzzing with ambition and opportunity, but also unforgiving. I was commuting 48 kilometres daily, surviving on the bare minimum, and pouring myself into a program that did not feel like home. My marks nosedived. I came close to academic exclusion. I felt I was slipping, again, and this time there might be no second chance.

But then, again, a door cracked open.

In September 2018, I was accepted into Zululand University to study a BSc in Biochemistry and Microbiology. I packed my bags and headed to Kwa-Dlangezwa in January 2019, praying this fresh start would be different. I juggled lectures and late-night shifts at McDonald’s to stay afloat. It was exhausting, but this time, the fight was matched by progress. In 2021, I graduated. Holding that degree in my hands felt like holding proof that I could keep rising, no matter how many times I fell.

But life, once again, paused. I spent 2022 baking bread at Pick n Pay, caught in the haze of postgrad uncertainty. The quiet despair of working a job that did not reflect my years of study settled heavily on me. Then a friend said something that almost made me laugh out loud:
“Why not apply to Stellenbosch for BSc Honours in Anatomy?”

Stellenbosch. The name itself felt too big for someone like me. Too prestigious. Too far from the gravel roads of Xunu. Still, I applied. The interview left me riddled with self-doubt. I almost did not believe the acceptance email when it came. But it was real.

And just like that, the dream that had lived quietly inside me since childhood took its first solid shape.

Honours was brutal. Assignments stacked sky-high. Long nights. Endless revisions. But I clung to the opportunity like oxygen. I made it through, scarred, yes, but stronger.

Now, I stand at the threshold of something I once thought was impossible: a Master’s in Clinical Anatomy, specialising in histology. Every slide I examine under the microscope feels like a whispered reminder: You made it here. Every nucleus, every tissue, every cell speaks not just of science, but of survival. Recently, an invitation arrived to present my MSc research in the Netherlands, in Europe! A journey across continents mirroring the vast distances I had traversed within myself. To stand before my peers, in that beautiful European city, and share the fruits of my struggle. It felt like a whispered affirmation, echoing the quiet triumph of each cell I had meticulously examined, a testament not just to my academic prowess but to the unyielding strength I had discovered within.

My journey is more than an academic path. It is a testament to the power of belief, the grace of second chances, and the quiet, stubborn strength it takes to keep going when the odds are stacked against you.

If you are struggling, uncertain, or on the verge of giving up, know this: the road may not be straight, but it leads somewhere. Sometimes, even in the darkness, something beautiful grows.