My Cyn-Cyn (Cynthia), you were there the first day I started this journey in the media world back in 2003.

It was my first day at Sowetan and your first day at Sunday World. You caught my eye with your daily off-the-ramp high fashion dressing. You made 61 Commando Road your fashion ramp and we all upped our game. We clicked, not just with our reminiscing about Grahamstown high school boarding life, but you took me in as your younger sister.

Where Pearl Rantsekeng and Doreen Zimbizi were the shapers of my journalistic skills, you made it your mission to be my lifestyle guide and publicist. Dressing up for the job was your daily fight with me, and you won. You gifted me my first full professional makeup kit. Your words were always: “Mntas’endlini, kufanele lamaqaba aseRhawutini akubone ukuba uphuma phi. Plus, it always makes it much easier for you to fib so you get off early from work and say you’re attending a function.”

You opened many doors for me in the fashion and beauty space by introducing me to clients and various agencies. My fashion journey was sealed the day you took me to the three power houses of SA fashion at the time, first with Vanya and Thando Mangaliso so that I could join you in the fabulosity of Sun Goddess and swiftly proceeded to hand me over to Nkhensani Nkosi at Stoned Cherrie as well as Bongiwe Walaza. What a whirlwind that day was.

You took me on a R500 shopping spree downtown to your famous Dunudunu Boutiques. Wherever we went, you ensured I got the best treatment. The most epic one was my first time at SA Fashion Week, where you fought off both Lucilla Booyzen and Julie Andrew for removing me from the front row. You caused a scene, calling them all kinds of names, telling them “you’re spitting on the biggest fresh thing out of this media space”, until they eventually allowed me to sit front-row. You always followed up with my editor, Pearl, to check if my submissions were well written and on time as you somehow felt it was a reflection on you (LOL).

I learnt from you that the LVs, CDs and Guccis of this world did not mean you had style but could signal a lack of fashion knowledge – you channelled me to understated yet sophisticated brands such as Kate Spade, Thula Sindi and Fundudzi.

When work pressures started to affect me and I had my first panic attack back in 2005, you were right there in your designer shift dress from the then upcoming Thula Sindi. You took me to the bathroom and lay next to me on the floor. You spoke to me so calmly and so lovingly. When the wave had passed I was so overcome with shame and you said: “Jonga, I will cuss you into another attack. In life s*** happens.” You made me vow to never hold back in my views and feelings, to speak up even in situations that will leave you unfavoured, “where people, with their perceived power, will call you a psycho and paint you a misfit”. 

Even when I moved along in my career you always ensured I had sisters to take care of me. Ayanda Bikitsha took up where you commanded her to, when I entered the magazine space.

Ours was a relationship steeped and rooted in family and love. We fought and fell out hard but we loved each other harder. As my big sister you showed me leadership by always humbling yourself, even when I was in the wrong, which was on very few occasions. You’d say; “Soze litshone sibambene ngezikhondo”, meaning the sun must never set with us being at odds.

As I sit here, pouring my heart about you, my thoughts drift to amantshontsho akho ehobe, your pigeon pair, as you would affectionately call Tembela and Leaun. But my solace comes in knowing how you loved, protected and championed them. In the past three years God granted you that again through Bella. You’d give your beating heart for your kids. Many misunderstood you and misrepresented you and I always say; if you want to know Cyn, watch her with her kids and those she loves. She is more than a lioness, she is all of Africa’s Big 5 wrapped in love, nurture and protection of her own. I was privileged to be one of those you treasured.

Pumza Fihlani once asked why we called each other by our colonial names. I said to her, outside of my own family, you are the only person to fully articulate the meaning of the name Pumza to me, in your own Kuli way. But for me, calling you Cynthia was more about the stories you shared on our many lifestyle travels, you sharing about your beloved grandmother, Lawu-Lawu, and the sentiments behind both your names.

Cyn-Cyn, Kuli-Girl, you were love in all its forms. You were a champion of blackness and its excellence because you were birthed and raised in it. Your loving nature is evident in your children. Who they are today is a testament to that. The last few months of your life were painful but you faced adversity with great resistance and resilience.

Even in our last conversation on the day you transcended you were resilient in the face of adversity. It is such a bitter pill to swallow to know that the one medium you loved and poured so much of yourself into continuously spat you out on a whim and branded you an outlaw and unstable just because you dared to be you. I have watched you speak up for so many injustices – against patriarchy, favouritism and elitism. You were a born activist. You always fought for people to know their mind and fight for their voice and your warmth for people of all creeds was so loving and admirable.

Right now I envy those in heaven with you because you are engulfing them in your warmth and love, forcing them to capture the moments with your endless selfies. I sit and wonder who is going to randomly call me at 2am and say: “Hayi vuka amagqwirha ahleli phezu kwakho” or to simply ask “You’re good? OK, bye”… . I will love you momomo till we meet again.

Phumza Nohashe is a former journalist and currently works as a celebrity PR manager.