The third-year Tourism student from Mpumalanga, woke up with blurred vision. At first, Siyabonga and a friend brushed it off. It had been a late study night — perhaps fatigue, they reasoned.
But as he made his way from Lavallia to Pick n Pay, to catch the campus shuttle, the world around him grew more faint and less familiar. He began bumping into things. By the time he arrived at the University library, he realised something far more serious was unfolding. His vision was fading.
“I told the staff at the clinic that I couldn’t see properly,” Siyabonga recalls. “It felt like my vision was slowly switching off.” Referred to the hospital, he received no concrete answers or treatment — just more uncertainty. He returned to campus shaken, still clinging to hope that what he was experiencing would pass. But deep down, he knew his life had changed in a day.
“I felt like I was trapped in an emotional cage,” he says. “But something inside me whispered, it’s a new world now.”
The following morning, determined to remain independent, he tried to continue life as usual. But the world was no longer the same. The simplest tasks became daunting. That’s when he reached out to the University’s Universal Accessibility and Disability Services (UADS). “I was faint-hearted and scared,” he admits.
Despite the challenges, Siyabonga remained on campus — an eco-friendly campus he could no longer see but was determined to understand through use of his other senses. The journey was turbulent. But human kindness and compassion carried him forward.
Later that year, Siyabonga became a father. He still remembers the deep pain of not being able to see his child. “But I knew God had a plan for my life,” he says quietly.
He clings to the mantra: “I am a soldier. Tomorrow, I bounce back and move on.”
Even before losing his sight, Siyabonga had started teaching himself to use voice communication tools on his phone — an act that now feels like fate preparing him for the road ahead.
During his recovery, he volunteered at a bank, finding purpose in new routines. “It helped me take my mind off the emotional heaviness,” he says. Though the permanent position didn’t materialise, the experience confirmed his belief: “I can do anything I put my heart and mind to.”
Navigating campus life hasn’t been without its challenges. At times, the well-meaning attention he receives feels overwhelming. “Even something like cooking a simple meal, can make you feel exposed,” he admits. But his dorm-mates often step in to help, and he remains grateful for the community that surrounds him.
Outside of his studies, Siyabonga continues to embrace life. A lover of Pantsula dancing and singing, he thrives on social interaction and believes deeply in the power of connection. “That’s how we learn—through each other,” he says. “Campus life has been warm and welcoming … except for the baboons,” he adds with a laugh.
Growing up, Siyabonga dreamed of becoming a healthcare practitioner — a dream he still holds close. “I want to help people. And I believe that someday, I will.”
He lives by trust now — trust in himself, in others, and in the unseen future. “Having people who are genuine are a gift,” he says. “And that’s something we should never take for granted.”
Siyabonga Manana’s story is not one of loss—it is one of courage, adaptation, and quiet triumph. In his “new world,” he’s learnt to see life differently and continues to rise, every day.