About Me

I’m going to keep it really simple. Because the stories I write are fantastic – in the sense that almost no-one would believe me, even if I said they were true. But then, some of the things that I claim really are true are incredible. And some of the opinions I hold – controversial.

So, let’s keep things simple to start with.

My name is Paul du Preez.

(If you want to know why I created it, visit the About this Site page.)

Most of my life I worked as a nightclub musician. Or a school-teacher. I suffer from a disability. But let’s not make a big deal out of that. I’m retired, early. Health issues. Let’s not make a big deal out of that either.

That’s enough.

Really, in a decent world, it should be.

Except, it’s not so simple.

I was born in South Africa under apartheid. I married a woman of colour; my son is of mixed race. I’m proud of that.

When I started out as a young musician, I worked almost exclusively in black clubs. My colleagues were so-called ‘Cape Coloureds’, or ‘black Africans’. I was usually the only ‘white’ person in the place.

I wish it weren’t important. In a decent world it wouldn’t be.

Then I went to London. That’s where I became a school-teacher. I taught for about ten years.

When I moved back to South Africa, I went to live in a poor ‘black’ township. My reason was spiritual: I was a Christian, but I didn’t feel I had yet lived out my friendship with people of colour in a way that would satisfy Jesus. I hungered for socio-economic reconciliation that would heal the festering wound of apartheid; I dreamed of the heavenly Jerusalem in which people of every nation and tongue would worship side by side.

It was the furthest journey I’d ever made: further than London, even though I moved only from one familiar, middle class suburb to its unfamiliar, dirt-poor neighbour.

I learned a lot. (It’s about money and education. And tribe, of course, sadly.)

…And here I have to make a disclaimer: it’s tempting to pose as an exemplar of moral virtue (and some do) but I am not – for which reason I am more grateful for God’s love…

I learned a great deal, but after three years I left – wiser, and with new friends – to care for my father who was dying, slowly, of Alzheimer’s.

And in the wake of that bleak ordeal, discovered, for the first time, that God heals in response to faith.

I also began to write.


P.S. You can email me.