South African Shooting Victim Rebuilds Life

I remember when this shocking incident took place, and it was one of many motivators for me to leave. I chose to settle in Calgary, the city that Razelle Botha and her family have chosen to relocate to. This article was retrieved from our local newspaper, the Calgary Herald. Make no mistake the world is very aware of the face of South Africa.

UPDATE: There are comments posted at the Calgary Herald site that amount to unsubstantiated, vitriolic BS. I posted two comments to highlight the falsity of the allegations and in typical MSM style, they were once again censored. F**king p**cks should be ashamed of themselves. That is why blogging has become a mainstream form of news media.

By the time the second bullet struck her spine, 18-year-old Razelle Botha was bleeding so badly she thought she was going to die right there in her South African bedroom.

The force of the next three bullets sent her flying across her bed and suddenly the teen was fighting to take her next breath.

Her arms became heavy. She couldn't move her legs.

A few days later, doctors told Razelle she would likely never walk again.

It was just over a year ago, while still in a hospital bed, that Razelle decided she wanted to escape the violence of South Africa, move to a "safer haven" and begin anew in Calgary.

Next month, she's set to take those first steps, literally and figuratively, when Pretoria's hometown hero moves to Canada.

"Every day I have had to learn how to live in this new life I've been given," says Razelle, now 19 and poised to attend the University of Calgary in the fall.

"It crushes me. I was fun and lived for adventure. Now, I just want to be able to walk a mile without trying.

"It's not the life I had in mind."

Now, it's a life of pain, frustration and embarrassment, she says, noting she's lost her independence, her spontaneity and her confidence.

Not being bitter doesn't come easy.

"My wish is that these criminals could live for just one day in my life and see what they have made," Razelle says.

The ambush unfolded just before 10 p. m. on Feb. 5, 2008, after she and her father, Willem Botha, returned to their Pretoria home in the suburbs of the northern South African city.

Razelle, who was leaving for France the next day to work as a nanny, had a busy night in store. After showering she began packing suitcases in her bedroom, while her father puttered around down the hall.

Suddenly, Razelle heard someone yelling. Three men, waving guns and knives, burst into her room.

She was standing in nothing more than a bath towel.

"I don't know what it's like in Canada, but in South Africa if you are standing naked in front of three armed . . . men, it is your last day on Earth," says Razelle.

"I pleaded with them to take anything. I told them I would do anything just to live another day."
Two men left her room, while another stayed behind. "I thought I was about to be tortured," she recalls.

But the criminal seemingly took mercy on the teen, turning away and allowing her to dress. She wanted to grab a knife hidden in her room, or her phone and call police, but couldn't find the courage.

Then, shots rang out down the hall. Knowing her father had a gun stored in his room, Razelle was hopeful he got a shot away.

But when the criminals returned, she was sure her father had been killed.

The armed robber who allowed Razelle to dress just moments earlier now pointed his pistol at her.

"He looked me in the eyes and emptied his gun into me," she says. "I felt myself flying backward onto my bed. I looked down and there was blood everywhere. I felt no pain, but I saw blood leaking from my arm, my chest . . . my back. I was sure I was about to take my last breath."

Razelle tried to stand up but couldn't feel her legs. When she tried to roll off her bed to find her father she dropped to the floor.

"I kept telling myself that I was not paralyzed, just in a state of shock."

Using her forearms she pulled herself across her bedroom floor. At the same time her father, who was shot in the leg, was dragging himself along the floor toward his daughter's room.

The two met in the hall. With the criminals gone, Willem Botha called 911.

Devastated that his only daughter was so badly injured, the father took her hand, lay down beside her and told her everything was going to be OK -- though he didn't believe it himself.

"She just kept crying and screaming and asking me to help her," says Willem, 64.

Razelle spent several days in intensive care before doctors delivered the news that her spine had been severed and that nothing below her waist was functioning. There was a possibility she would be at least partially paralyzed for life.

She then decided two things. The first was that she was going to ignore her prognosis. "I had no plans to stay in a wheelchair the rest of my life," she says.

The second was she was moving away from South Africa as soon as she could walk, hopefully to Calgary.

By March, Razelle began rehabilitation on her legs.

By September 2008 she was well enough to travel, so she and her father headed to Calgary to see if they could live here. "I instantly fell in love," Razelle says. "The people were so friendly, it felt like a different world."

The two will arrive in Calgary the first week of May. Razelle begins studying medicine in the fall.

Once she earns her undergraduate degree, she hopes to specialize in neuroscience, with a focus on stem cell research -- something she decided three months into rehab, she says.

"I have a passion to improve life for people with spinal injuries because I have seen what can happen to a perfectly normal life," she says. "I understand what it feels like to walk one day and be in a wheelchair the next."

Not all students have the benefit of insight, which often makes them better doctors, agrees Sheldon Roth, a professor of physiology and pharmacology at U of C.

"I have to smile when I hear that someone takes their past history and turns to medicine to try and help others," says Roth, who was instrumental in developing a new neuroscience program at the university. "A lot of people have that amazing dream and I am sure she dreams bigger than most."

Razelle has yet to regain feeling or movement in her right leg and wears a brace to keep it steady while she walks on crutches part of the time. The rest of the day she's in a wheelchair.

Police have never caught the criminals who broke into their home and left without taking anything.

Willem, who once lived in Calgary and worked as a geophysicist, is keen to begin a new life here.

"It's a terrible feeling to be afraid all the time," says Botha, who notes he is not naive enough to think there isn't crime in Calgary.

"But in South Africa you don't know when you'll wake up to someone standing over you with a gun. I don't know that it's that bad in Calgary."

Original article appeared in the Calgary Herald.