12/05/2025
My beloved brother, Dick Sibanda, was born on September 11, 1977 at Collin Saunders Hospital in Triangle, Zimbabwe. He was our mother’s third child, and I was the last born. From the very beginning, he was my protector, my first best friend, and my constant source of strength. He was the big brother who always stood by me.
Tragically, his life was cut short in a devastating head-on collision with a truck while driving home from work. He passed away in the early hours of Saturday morning at a hospital in Mpumalanga, South Africa, while I was DJing at a wedding, unaware that my world was about to shatter.
It hasn’t even been a year since we laid our mother to rest, and now I find myself mourning once again, this time for my brother. I am so lost. I am so confused. I am angry. I am broken. Nothing makes sense anymore. He was supposed to be my anchor, the one who helped me navigate through the storm of grief we were already facing.
The day after he passed was Mother’s Day, a day that also marked my sister’s birthday and exactly ten months since our mum left us. I cannot imagine a more painful convergence of loss. I will never be ok again.
I’ll never forget our mother’s funeral. I was overwhelmed and couldn’t find the strength to speak. My brother saw my pain and, without hesitation, held me close. He took the mic and spoke on my behalf, saying exactly what I couldn’t. That’s who he was, intuitive, steady, and always there when I needed him most.
The pain I feel right now is unbearable. But deep in my heart, I believe that Mum called him home and he answered that call.
Ngiyathemba uyabona solefa khona empini, ngeke baskhoba lingashona emini!
Rest gently, my brother. Rest peacefully, my brother. You are deeply loved and will never, ever be forgotten.