I regard myself as one of the lucky ones, exposed to fighting for liberation at an early age. It took away my childhood and my youth, which I didn't enjoy much, but the ANC moulded me and made me what I am today. I go back to the township now and I look at the people I grew up with and not even one can identify me as somebody that they know. All they think is, please can you buy me booze or give me a few bucks? I see myself through them and think, well, this is me if I hadn't gone out of the country.

There were six of us in our family. I have three older sisters and two younger brothers. After my parents passed on when I was very young, my uncle's family came to stay with us, so there were about 11 kids in that house in total. It was only when I came back from exile that I found out that the couple who raised me as their child – the only parents I knew – were in fact my uncle and aunt.

Growing up, my friends only saw life as it goes day by day, so when I started school I didn't see why I had to go. Not that I had much of a choice. But, at the age of 11, I started to go to the Zwartkop golf course, following some of the older kids who would go and get pocket money there as caddies. My parents didn't approve but I went anyway.

Later, I ran away and joined my friends, staying for about five months under Zwartkop Bridge between the R101 and Hans Strydom Drive, right next to the golf course.