by Bra Peter wa Ptouch
The Wound
Abandonment causes “irreparable” damage to children.
The child who is abandoned — whether in reality or perception — never learns to love or trust themselves. They grow up doubting their own judgement, constantly searching for authority to approve their next move.
In South Africa, especially in the townships, this is not an individual story — it’s a collective inheritance. The structure itself taught parents to leave. Every morning, mothers and fathers walked away from their children to serve another man’s system, returning tired, empty, and absent.
This daily exodus trained generations of black children to feel emotionally unwanted, even while materially provided for. The home became a waiting room. The adults left to work for white people. The children waited to be seen.
And so a nation of immature adults was born — intelligent, creative, but easily manipulated. People who never fully trusted their own voice, because the one voice that was supposed to guide them was never there.
The Matrix
The concentration camps of the past have become mental camps of the present.
Manipulation is easy when the mind was never parented. When you don’t trust yourself, you outsource your truth — to the government, the pastor, the influencer, the boss. You become a child again, waiting to be told what to do.
This is how the Matrix survives. It feeds on inner children searching for parents. It rewards obedience and punishes independent thought.
But every generation has its rebels — those who turn their pain into awakening.
Those who remember that Ramasedi (the Sun) is the only authority that rises without permission.
The Paradox
The problem with abandonment is that it is also necessary for evolution.
Every transformation begins with a leaving — a breaking away. To become something new, you must first abandon what you were.
The act of doing something — anything — is a form of abandonment.
To grow, you must abandon the comfort of stillness.
To heal, you must abandon the illusion of perfection.
To love, you must abandon the fear of loss.
Even Ramasedi abandons us every day.
When the sun sets, the world mourns quietly. Yet, when it rises, joy returns, and yesterday’s sadness becomes history.
Each sunrise is proof that abandonment is not the end — it’s the preparation for return.
The Call
Bra Peter says:
“If you do nothing, nothing happens. Something only happens when you do something.”
To act is to abandon comfort. To change is to trust that you will survive the unknown. The Sun teaches us this every day — disappearing to make space for night, and returning to prove that endings are illusions.
So if you were abandoned, by a parent or by a system, understand this:
You have already survived the worst part.
Now, you must abandon the old story — that you are unworthy, unlovable, or too broken to be fixed.
You must attempt the impossible.
Because as Mandela said:
“It always seems impossible until it is done.”
The Light
Every day, with each sunrise, Ramasedi gives us another chance to start again.
To abandon what no longer serves us.
To trust our own light.
To do something new.
The Gospel of Abandonment is not about loss — it’s about rebirth through letting go.
To abandon fear is to choose love.
To abandon silence is to speak truth.
To abandon despair is to remember that the Sun always returns.
