Growing Up Under Apartheid: Dominic Tshabalala Finds Hope and Faith (South Africa)

Dominic Tshabalala's daily existence as a small boy in segregated South Africa was one of walking in fear. "It did not engender love or trust or stability or faith in humankind," he recalled. Police attack dogs were trained to single out his race, and young boys and men in his neighborhood were often rounded up into police vans, never to be seen again. The "armed struggle" against Apartheid was talked about on street corners and in open fields in the black township where he lived: "We were expecting the day would come when someone would give you an AK-47 and all you would do is shoot. It was assumed that everybody would participate." He says he is grateful that day never came and that he has never held a gun.

He never knew his father and was allowed to visit his mother only three times a year, because she worked as a servant for a family in Johannesburg, about two and a half hours from his home — black Africans were not permitted inside the city without a traveling pass, and it was only through the good graces of his mother's employer that the visits were granted at all.

His bleak world began to change at the age of 12, during one of those visits, when white "sister" missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints were given permission by his mother's employer to teach her about their faith. Upon conclusion of the lesson, they lovingly embraced her. Dominic had never seen that kind of affection from a white person toward someone of darker skin: "You don't understand how big that was, how amazing it was to see that — how shocking. It went against everything society had taught me." Each time the missionaries visited that week, he felt something he didn't understand: "It was very foreign but felt good. It felt safe; I felt wanted." He later understood that feeling to be the Holy Ghost.

He was baptized and was again amazed by the acceptance he felt at church: "They taught the same thing to me as the white boy sitting next to me at church. That broke a lot of boundaries for me. That said to me in my heart and mind that we are equal." With the help of Church members he attended high school — a privilege rarely given to children of his race — served a two-year mission, attended college, married in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple, and has four children. He has served in many callings, including as the lay leader of his congregation, and works as an employment manager helping others find jobs. "The Church rescued me, truly, truly rescued me," he said, "just like many other boys."

Fuller account of this event (the complete account as preserved in Mormons in Africa: Stories of Hope and Faith, Newsroom of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints):

His bleak world began to change at the age of 12, during one of those visits, when white "sister" missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints were given permission by his mother's employer to teach her about their faith. Upon conclusion of the lesson, they lovingly embraced her. Dominic had never seen that kind of affection from a white person toward someone of darker skin: "You don't understand how big that was, how amazing it was to see that — how shocking. It went against everything society had taught me." Each time the missionaries visited that week, he felt something he didn't understand: "It was very foreign but felt good. It felt safe; I felt wanted." He later understood that feeling to be the Holy Ghost.