Tribute to Pearl Sebolao: when the rosary rested

What can one say when writing about Pearl Sebolao? It’s difficult to reflect on this beautiful lady who meant so much to us, and more especially to her family and children.

We knew her as Pearl, Phelindaba, Pearlisto or simply Pearly, names whispered with affection and awe. To borrow an overused description, Pearl was pure dynamite. There are not enough adjectives or nouns to describe who Pearl was. All one can say is she was a beautiful soul that approached life with vigour, a strident drive and resolute determination.

Our paths crossed when I joined Absa as deputy head of group communications, and found Pearl at the helm of our group publications and online platforms. We hit it off from day one. She was a hard-working journalist who loved new media and media in general.

Her passion and approach to the work were beyond question and pegged at a different level altogether. You could tell that this was someone who had operated at a senior level in the newsroom. Having operated as editor and managing editor of Business Day at different intervals earned her much respect in the team and more so from me, as I remained an ardent admirer of her work.

Pearl was a true friend, a gifted journalist and a devoted mother.

We would spend hours debating content, angles and headlines that best represented where we wanted to position the brand. Pearl was of the firm view that when writing a piece for publication, “the pen must sing”. That was her phrase of note, which represented her love of delectable prose that kept the reader hooked.

This intimidated me to no end as I was never too confident with my writing. Now, to make your pen sing and then send your first draft copy to the very same person who was expecting a high standard of writing was extremely intimidating. But that was Pearl, a top-class and high-quality person. She would regale us with stories from the newsroom, her boxing matches with veteran editor Peter Bruce and other journalists within the group, including our then-boss at Absa Group Comms at the time, Songezo Zibi.

Pearl was a sensitive person who also dealt with her own confidence issues. Like all of us, she liked being appreciated and validated when she did great work. But in corridors where toxic competition was never far from your daily experience, she struggled at times with life in the corporate world. She would reminisce about life in the newsroom and at times felt that space was her first love. I was glad when we both left corporate that she found her way back into the newsroom, where she could rediscover her voice.

Vision for service

A staunch Catholic, Pearl integrated her faith in the divine into everything that she did. You would often see her working at her desk, in deep thought and with one hand clutching her rosary and prayer beads, knowing that as much as she was focusing on her work, she was also deep in prayer. This devotion guided her outreach in Soweto, where she dreamed of lifting young people from despair, drug abuse and helplessness. Though we never managed to visit the youth project she had planned last month, her vision for service remains a powerful reminder that our promises to one another deserve follow-through, for none of us knows what tomorrow may bring.

Above all, Pearl was mother to Tshiamo and Imanathi, and sister to Lerato. They were her pillars, the sacred reason for waking up in the morning to face the world. I pray they feel God’s strength, softening the weight of grief with quiet comfort. 

Pearl was a true friend, a gifted journalist and a devoted mother. As her friends, who are as many as the sands of the sea, we shall truly miss her. May she continue to rest in perfect peace.