DITOPIC

What do you do when you wake up in the morning and you can’t feel your legs? When you can’t feel your torso. When you reach for your face and your hand doesn’t go where your mind tells it to? What do you do when you wake up and you are unable to walk at all? Who do you call out to? Where do you run—when there is nowhere to run to? The first thing that comes is not bravery. It is shock. A quiet, terrifying moment where your mind realizes something is deeply wrong. Yesterday, your body obeyed you. Today, it doesn’t. Fear settles in before words do. Disbelief follows close behind. What is your first thought? What does your imagination show you—hope or a future collapsing in on itself? What do you do when you wake up and you cannot move your body from your shoulders to the soles of your feet, and the only thing you can move is your head? You think. You panic. You pray. You cry. Or you go completely silent. There is no correct response to waking up trapped inside your own body. What do you ...

What I experienced this morning (14/02/2026) was a powerful reminder that we are often the answer we are waiting for. As I was driving back from Johannesburg Centre toward the Santon city, I saw a young man running. Well dressed. Name tag on. Focused. Determined. I stopped and asked where he was going. He said he was late for work and heading to the Sandton. He had been running all the way from Carlton Centre. He didn’t have enough money for transport. He didn’t complain. He didn’t turn back home. He used what he had — his legs, his breath, his will. Five kilometres or more. Sweat instead of excuses. Movement instead of self-pity. Then, as I were leaving, I noticed two women sitting at the back of their car, the boot open, selling roses ahead of Valentine’s Day. No fancy shop. No storefront. Just a car, flowers, and determination. They didn’t say, “We don’t have a shop.” They said, “Open the boot.” The young man didn’t say, “I don’t have taxi fare.” He said, “I have legs.” ...