“Robin… I nearly died. Before anything happened, there was someone I needed to thank.”
It was a Saturday evening in New Zealand when my phone rang—a WhatsApp call from Los Angeles.
The voice belonged to Jabu, a former student from a school in South Africa where I had been principal more than twenty-five years earlier. Although we had exchanged the occasional social media message over the years, we hadn’t actually spoken for more than two decades.
I had no idea why he was calling, nor did I realise he was about to remind me of something I had completely forgotten.
A Life Interrupted
Jabu had not enjoyed an easy childhood. Because of disruptions to his education, he arrived at our school well behind many of his classmates academically. However, it didn’t take long for us to discover that he possessed an extraordinary artistic gift. I learned some years later that he began creating political art and posters for the underground African Nationalist Congress movement starting at the age of 12.
Teachers encouraged him whenever they could. We looked beyond his academic struggles and saw potential waiting to be developed.
Over the following years, Jabu continued teaching himself, refining his skills, and eventually travelled to the United States to pursue a career as an artivist for Social Justice and Social change. He had coined the term Artivist in relation to his Activism and love for Nature and Wild Life. Inspired by one of his heroes, Nelson Mandela, he also became an accomplished boxer.
Life, however, had one more difficult chapter to write.
A serious car accident left him with ongoing back problems. Surgery seemed the best option, but complications followed. His condition deteriorated rapidly. He was airlifted by helicopter from a remote location to hospital, where his life hung in the balance—thankfully, he survived.
As he recovered, he found himself reflecting on the people who had shaped his journey, which led him to make one unexpected phone call.
The Story That Never Left Him
During our conversation, Jabu said something that genuinely surprised me.
He reminded me of a story I had shared during his school years, which had remained with him ever since, and I had no recollection of telling it.
However, for him, it had become a source of encouragement throughout his life.
The story was the widely shared account of the fifteenth-century German artist Albrecht Dürer and his brother Albert.
According to the traditional account, the two brothers dreamed of becoming artists. Knowing their family could only afford to educate one of them, they tossed a coin. Albrecht won. Albert worked in dangerous mines to support his brother’s studies.
Years later, when Albrecht returned as a celebrated artist, he offered to finance Albert’s education in return. Albert quietly lifted his hands. Years of mining had permanently damaged them; his dream sacrificed so his brother could fulfil his own.
Deeply moved, Albrecht later sketched those worn hands in gratitude.
Today the drawing is known throughout the world as The Praying Hands.
Whether every historical detail of the story can be verified or not, its message of sacrifice, gratitude and love has inspired generations, and certainly inspired one young student sitting in a classroom many years ago.
Why Do Stories Stay with Us?
Jabu’s phone call reminded me of something educators and mentors often overlook.
Young people rarely remember every lesson we teach, or every piece of advice we give, but they remember stories.
Modern neuroscience helps explain why.
Unlike isolated facts, stories activate multiple regions of the brain. They engage language, emotion, memory and imagination simultaneously. When a story creates an emotional connection, the brain is far more likely to store it as a lasting memory.
Stories don’t simply inform us, they shape how we see ourselves, and help us imagine who we might become.
Developmental relationship research tells us something similar. Young people grow most when trusted adults create relationships that combine encouragement, challenge, and hope. Stories become one of the most natural ways of doing this. Rather than telling young people what to think, stories invite them to discover truth for themselves.
Long after advice is forgotten, a story often remains.
The Hidden Legacy of Everyday Conversations
As mentors, teachers, parents and coaches, we sometimes underestimate the significance of ordinary conversations.
We assume young people will remember the carefully prepared lesson, but they remember the story.
We think they will remember our best advice; instead, they remember a moment when someone believed in them.
Jabu achieved international recognition through his artwork. During our conversation, he spoke passionately about his desire to use his gifts to encourage and uplift others, just as so many people had encouraged him. Looking back now, I realise that his life had become a living example of the very story he had never forgotten.
As we finished our conversation, I found myself reflecting on the extraordinary ripple effect of one forgotten story.
I had forgotten telling it, yet Jabu had never forgotten hearing it.
Perhaps that is one of mentoring’s greatest mysteries. We rarely know which conversation will change a life—one story, one moment, or one encouraging word.
Sometimes we never see the impact, and sometimes twenty-five years later the phone rings.
Author’s Note
After revisiting this story while updating this article, I searched for Jabu to see what he had been doing since we spoke.
To my great sadness, I discovered that he passed away in the United States in January 2025 at the age of 53.
Our conversation, which I had treasured simply as a reminder of the power of encouragement, has taken on an even deeper significance for me. I am profoundly grateful that he made that phone call and that I had the opportunity to hear, in his own words, how one story shared in a classroom had stayed with him for more than twenty-five years.
As mentors, teachers and parents, we seldom know the full impact of the seeds we plant. Most grow quietly, out of sight. Occasionally, we are given the privilege of seeing the harvest.
Jabu reminded me that every encouraging word matters.
His life—and his final gift of gratitude—will continue to inspire mine.
