Reeva: A Mother's Story (5 page)

Reeva had started to use her visibility as a model to fight for causes that supported vulnerable people. Throughout 2012, she was a celebrity face of the Spirit Day anti-bullying campaign that her friend Mika Stefano coordinated in South Africa to highlight the fight against the bullying of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender youth. The South African campaign followed the lead of Oprah Winfrey and former basketball star Shaquille O’Neal in the United States. Reeva stood proudly among a multi-cultural gallery of celebrity supporters including Jamali singer Mariechan Luiters, models Lerato Kganyago, Celeste Khumalo and Tshego Seakgoe, former
Big Brother Africa
’s Lerato Sengadi, actor Anga Makubalo, openly gay personalities Sade Giliberti, Bujy, Koyo Bala, Amstel, and DJ Olwee, and TV presenters Lalla Hirayama, Dineo Moeketsi and Sthembiso ‘SK’ Khoza to promote the cause. On 15 October she invited her friends to share a YouTube clip for the charity. ‘Take a stand against bullying,’ she urged. ‘Wear purple. Please watch and share, friends! This means a lot to me! And wear purple on Friday! X.’

She was passionate about helping vulnerable animals too, often tweeting support in aid of the Ark Animal Centre – the leading rescue, rehabilitation and re-homing shelter in South Africa – and the Kitty and Puppy Haven – a rescue centre based in Johannesburg which takes in injured, abandoned, traumatised or abused dogs, puppies, kittens and cats. In the weeks before she died, she was photographed here, submerged in affectionate puppies.
LOL they were attacking me with love
, she tweeted.

When Reeva used to advise friends about relationship issues or difficult situations, her line was always, ‘You deserve so much better’. Asked in an interview ‘What’s the dumbest thing a guy has ever said to you?’ she replied: ‘You’ll amount to nothing without me.’ The importance of self-worth was her mantra. As her close friend Kristin said to me, ‘She was my biggest supporter if I felt down. I would always feel better after I’d talked to Reeva. There is a tendency when someone dies to put them on a pedestal, but with her it is true – she made a big effort to be a good friend, a good daughter, a good girlfriend. She went out of her way to engage with people, to be kind and nice.’

Keenly aware of the most violent end of the spectrum of abuse, she shared with her Twitter followers the shocking fact that in South Africa a woman is raped every four minutes and a woman killed by her partner every eight hours. She intended to use her growing profile as a media personality to highlight that situation and put her concerns into the practice of family law when she returned to her studies. This was not a token line. She had thought this through. In her short life she had been exposed to many vignettes of injustice and stories of ill treatment of women – which I will describe later in these pages – and she felt them personally. That was her big heart. She realised it was important to educate young girls to nurture their self-esteem from an early age, to encourage them to blossom as strong personalities so that they could not become vulnerable to aggressive or controlling behaviour.

It is a sad twist of fate that she had decided, shortly before she was shot, to speak out for the first time on this theme. She had arranged to give a speech to high school students at Sandown High School in Gauteng to urge the girls not to put up with being badly treated, demoralised or demeaned. She wanted to suggest that there is no obstacle in life that cannot be overcome. When she was about twenty, she was thrown from one of the horses Barry trained and broke her back in two places. For four or five weeks she lay in hospital with severely compressed discs. The doctors were uncertain whether she would be able to walk again. Slowly, slowly, wearing a supportive corset and enduring months of physiotherapy, she regained her strength and agility. Her notes for the talk were titled ‘Placing Values on You’ and she planned to tell the teenage girls about how she overcame difficulties in her life to become a model by reminding herself of her value to the world. ‘I broke my back towards the end of varsity,’ she wrote in her pointers. ‘Learnt mobility again and made a massive life decision with regards to my career… I was in an abusive relationship at the same time and all together these factors encouraged my move to [Johannesburg]. Despite my height disadvantage and the difficulty in general of breaking into the modelling industry, I put my head down and worked hard towards my dream… it took some serious soul searching to remind myself of my value in this world.’

She was also going to tell the girls how important it is to be loved by others ‘not for your physical appearance, but for who you are inside’. Her closing lines were typical Reeva: ‘Be brave, always see the positive… Go home and tell your parents, siblings, neighbours that they are appreciated. You will go to bed with a happy heart and an open mind for the future.’

She never got to give this talk. Can you believe it? Her publicist was preparing to drive to the school where Reeva would address the students when the horrifying news came through: Reeva herself had been gunned down by her boyfriend inside his home. In the end, Pearl Thusi read Reeva’s speech out to the girls. She cried all the way through. She had to keep stopping to catch her breath. They were very close after
Tropika
, Pearl and Reeva.

Reeva felt for all vulnerable people. She went to school with a girl whose mother was a pioneering doctor who led a campaign for a more clinical approach to traditional bush practices such as circumcision. For young men, circumcision is seen as a rite of passage into manhood and those who have not undergone the procedure at so-called initiation schools in the bush are bullied and ostracised. But without sterilised instruments, the boys often develop severe infections; some of them lose their penis or even die. I remember when Reeva first heard about these things through her schoolfriend, she really felt for the loss of pride these maimed young men would have to live with. That was another vignette of life that developed her sensitivity to injustice. She presented a sunny side to the world, but inwardly she felt other people’s pain. She was such a quirky, fun teenager who would randomly burst into song or dance or goof around, but inside she was a thinker and deeply compassionate. She always spotted the person in the room or the group who needed to be brought in.

Whatever happened in the small hours of 14 February 2013 will always stand as a double tragedy for two wonderful young people and their families. The lives of two gifted talents, two incredible role models, have been shattered. It’s a cliché, but it is just
such a waste
.

I often think of what Reeva might have become. With that rush of bullets, he’s taken everything away from her: her wedding, her babies, her career, her right to go to bed with a happy heart and an open mind for the future, her chance to make a difference.

Simone remembers her baby sister as the most amazing, passionate, compulsive, wild, crazy person who always did things at a hundred miles an hour. In retrospect it seems almost as if she knew she didn’t have long. She had a short life, but she lived it to the absolute full. Her fellow graduate Angus Hayes wrote such a moving tribute to her. ‘She was always kind and gentle and perfectly mannered – a true lady, without question,’ he said, before addressing her spirit:

My dear Reeva, thank you for everything you did for me and for all the lessons. You were so busy after university fretting about becoming a success that you never stopped to see that you already are one. Forget riches and post-grads and titles. What better mark of success can there be than to add as much love to the world as you did? You were so special. You lived your life as you appeared to the world. You lived it beautifully. Our memories of you, this invisible light that you always gave to us so selflessly, will help us navigate our lives forever.

As a model, her dream was to be on TV and to appear in
Vanity Fair
, her favourite magazine. Ironically, both these dreams came true in response to her death. The magazine wrote about her fate in a piece illustrated with gorgeous images of her. She’d have loved that. And the first episode of
Tropika Island of Treasure 5
– a South African Broadcasting Corporation reality show where celebrities and members of the public compete against each other in an exotic location to win a million rand – was to air on Saturday 16 February, featuring Reeva alongside cool young South African celebrities including rappers Da L.E.S. and AKA, singer Mario Ogle and models Pearl Thusi, Phuti Khomo and Jay Anstey.

When Reeva and I spoke on 13 February she said she’d sent money to Barry and I for our cable TV to ensure we could see her in
Tropika.
She was proud of the programme. She’d loved spending those weeks filming in Jamaica in November in a happy bubble with her cast mates. She couldn’t imagine a more surprisingly captivating experience than the day she spent swimming with dolphins. After her death, the network was under pressure to cancel the show. When the producers asked me for permission to show it with a special tribute to Reeva at the beginning of the series, I had no hesitation in saying, ‘Yes, of course. Please air it.’ I wanted to see her alive and laughing, see her happy and full of life. I told them what Reeva had said about the dolphins and that was why we were already thinking of scattering her ashes in the sea. Barry couldn’t watch it, but I loved seeing her animated, and having fun, and I loved seeing other people revel in her company. That weekly vision of her on the show was lovely for me, every Saturday night for the ten weeks after we lost her.

When Reeva set off to Jamaica, it was all about enjoying the experience, not about winning the money. She was mature like that, an old soul. She was always one to stop to appreciate the moment and count her blessings. She didn’t take any good fortune for granted. And she was absolutely true to herself on the programme. The cast called her ‘Mama Bear’. There was a sweet bit when one of her fellow contestants said, ‘I’m told even the Prime Minister has Reeva Fever.’ He went on to compliment her, ‘You’re a sweet woman but always a formidable opponent. That’s your beauty, that you can balance the two. Yes, I’m this stunning woman, but I’ll also take you on.’

That was our Reeva: beguiling and strong-minded.

When it was time in each episode for the winner to sit on the throne, wearing the crown, and vote another contestant off the island, Reeva was always saved. Week after week, the others would say things like, ‘This is a non-starter… Babe, come through, Reeva. We can’t imagine the island without you!’ She was an almost ever-present cast member lighting up the screen and when finally, in episode 9, her turn came, she took the news with good grace. And that was when she said goodbye to me, when she sat against the palm tree on the beach with the sea behind her and talked about how your exit in life is as important as your journey. The episode ended as Reeva blew a kiss to the camera – a kiss that she meant for me. Frozen now in time. That was lovely.

Of course, when it was filmed, that snippet was part of the programme’s format. One by one, as they are voted off, each departing contestant says their farewells to the island and the TV viewers. But it was typical that any speech Reeva would make could take on a deeper resonance. ‘You literally fall in love with Jamaica. You fall in love with being in love with love. It’s just one love everywhere!’ she marvelled in the sentimental, girlish way we often used to speak together.

‘I’m going home with, sort of, a sweet taste in my mouth. I don’t have any regrets. I don’t have any bitterness. I take home so many amazing memories and so many things that are in here [her head] and here [her heart] that I will treasure forever. I think the way that you go out, not just your journey in life but the way that you go out and make your exit, is so important. You either made an impact in a positive way or a negative way… just maintain integrity and maintain class and always be true to yourself. I’m going to miss you all so much. I love you very, very much.’

Rather like her teenage paintings, the way she chose to express herself seems eerie to us now, considering what was to happen to her inside the sleeping quarters of Oscar Pistorius’s house. I later learn of a New York newspaper headline which ran: ‘Slain model Reeva Steenkamp, two days after her surreal murder, resurfaced on reality television to deliver her own haunting epitaph.’ Oh, there was such a fuss about people thinking the TV company were cashing in to boost ratings by airing the show days after she was killed. But, for me, it was just wonderful to see her beaming so vibrantly from the screen. For a precious half hour or so, it displaced the notion of her as the lifeless victim of the gruesome headlines.

Barry and I later received a lovely letter from Samantha Moon, the
Tropika
producer. She sent us DVDs of the series so that we
would have those glorious images of her for ever.

Dear Mr and Mrs Steenkamp,

I hope that seeing your wonderful, vibrant daughter lighting up the screen brings you some solace. Reeva’s zest and spirit, her sweet smile and infectious laugh, were so evident. She was a sweet sweet girl, who I really enjoyed knowing. She spoke of you both so fondly even while on the island.