Kumbatia San

A soft chaos diary by Kaone Dube
Centurion, South Africa – Age 28
Founder of Kumbatia San | Soft launch survivor | CEO of “It’s Complicated, Don’t Ask”

There’s this moment — right between having your hair bleach-burned into an orangutan shade of regret and accepting a podcast guest role — where you stop and go:

“Wait… who even am I right now?”

I’m 28. Technically unemployed.
Not lost, just… deeply committed to my stationery, my software, and my wild-ass dreams.

I’ve just soft-launched my own events and catering company, and I’ve never been more exhausted — or more uncertain.

But let me rewind.

The Brain Fog of Becoming

No one warns you that building your dream from scratch can feel like being stuck in a loading screen.
You’re opening accounts, managing invoices, sending quotes, pitching, emailing, following up, smiling through panic.

And now — I’m trying to migrate my Excel sheets to Xero and Zoho Books.
But to me? All the templates look exactly the same.
You can’t just upload your hard work and expect the software to convert it cleanly.
It’s soul-crushing.
A special kind of admin hell where everything almost works but never fully does.

My calendar is full. My clarity, not so much.

Every day, I swing between feeling like a genius and wondering if I’ve absolutely lost the plot.
I keep investing in tools, templates, schedules — hoping it’ll click.
Spoiler: I’m still waiting.

The Breakup & The Bleach

I spent six months finding new reasons not to leave someone I’d already outgrown.
Told myself I was being impatient — when deep down, I was just scared to ask for more.

So when it finally ended, I did what any emotionally unstable but self-aware woman would do:
Got high, had some wine, and drowned in a full bag of Maynards gummy bears and pastilles.
Then I bleached my hair.
Twice.
In one night.

It turned out the colour and texture of an orangutan.
I told myself I looked fine. Lied to everyone who looked concerned. Waited another week. Then tried to dread it.

The delusion was Olympic.

Somewhere between patchy blonde curls and the launch night of my business, I realised I didn’t recognise myself anymore — and worse, I hadn’t really accepted myself in the first place.

Becoming Again

So now I’m here.
Half afro, half damage. Makeup on, makeup off.
Not waiting to “glow up” or fix it all before I share.
Because this? This is the becoming.

I look at myself in the mirror and say it out loud now:

“I love you. You’re allowed to start again.”

No need to hide the mess or the mistakes.
This is a soft chaos diary.
And I’m still here — loving, building, breaking, becoming.

Kumbatia means “to embrace.” And I’m finally embracing me — roots, regret, regrowth and all.