It was 11 September 2025, and a spring day in Stellenbosch. The sun hung bright above the mountains, yet the air still carried winter’s lingering reluctance to leave.
I was studying at the Studie Sentrum – though anyone who has studied at Stellenbosch University knows it simply as the “SS”. Like so many students before me, I was buried beneath case law, statutes, and study notes, preparing for Company Law 478. Determined to avoid distractions, I switched off my phone and disappeared into the customary cadence of studying.
Hours later, I stepped outside for a break. I wandered onto the bridge overlooking Merriman Avenue. In the distance, Simonsberg stood watch over the town, and the cars on Merriman buzzed quietly below. Everything felt ordinary. The familiar view was exactly how it should be, unchanged and perfectly in place; a view I had come to know all too well. Then, I switched my phone back on.
An unknown number appeared on the screen, a missed call. I had recently done several interviews for articles, and something told me this call was not random. Without hesitation, I phoned back. A cheerful voice answered. “Good afternoon, Adriaans Attorneys. How may we assist?”
My heart dropped. I had interviewed there only a few weeks earlier. I explained that I had received a missed call and that I had recently interviewed with the firm. The receptionist explained that the HR Manager had stepped out briefly and would return my call in approximately fifteen minutes. I remained on that bridge, unable to bring myself to return to my studies or do anything, for that matter, I simply stood there, waiting.
Those fifteen minutes stretched into what felt like hours.
I remember trying to reason with myself. “No… surely not. It’s too early. They said they would contact candidates towards the end of September. It is only the eleventh… What if they’re phoning me to tell me I didn’t get it?”
Standing there beneath the Stellenbosch sky, overlooking the mountains I had admired for years as a student, I felt the anxiety travelling through my body. Every passing minute seemed heavier than the last. Then, I received an incoming phone call.
At the time, I did not know that that incoming phone call would change my life in ways I cannot adequately put into words.
A few days ago, on 20 August 2026, I stood alone in a courtroom for the very first time. For the first time in my life, I pulled the black gown over my crisp, white-collared shirt. I carefully did up the buttons, adjusted my bib, and looked at the reflection staring back at me – my first appearance.
I was nervous, but it was not the same kind of nervousness I had felt standing on that bridge eleven months earlier. You see, the tides had changed. I was no longer a student waiting for an opportunity. I was a Candidate Attorney, seven months into the profession I had dreamt about for years.
The preceding months had been both familiar and foreign. There was a sense of familiarity in the law itself. For four years, Stellenbosch University sculpted my understanding of the law and the values that underpin it. But there was also unfamiliarity.
The unfamiliarity of the work that happens behind the scenes. The letters “without prejudice,” consultations, correspondence, where Room One in the High Court is, and administrative hurdles required to move a matter forward, together with the countless hours of effort and determination woven into every five-minute interval recorded along the way.
Sitting across from a client who entrusts you with some of the most challenging moments of their life is a responsibility that never feels light or ordinary. They come to you for more than legal advice. They come seeking guidance, reassurance, and a path forward. The opportunity to make a real difference in someone’s life is a rare privilege, and one for which I am deeply grateful, particularly at this early stage in my career, where I’m fortunate enough to play even a small role in that journey.
In the space of seven months, I have experienced and learned more than I ever imagined possible. I sat across a table from an alleged murderer and been struck by how remarkably ordinary they seemed. They too had a history, a family, hopes for the future, and a version of events they were so desperate to have heard.
I have helped defend persons who had been wrongfully accused of rape, and sat beside them outside courtrooms, reminding them that they did not have to face one of the most difficult moments of their lives alone.
I have drafted agreements that brought marriages to an end and, in the same breath, helped provide the parties with a sense of closure, freedom, and a new beginning. I have assisted in incorporating companies created with the potential to uplift the lives of countless people I may never meet.
The beginning of August 2026 brought with it the storm of the four infamous board exams – and with blood, sweat, tears, and unwavering support from my firm – what had consumed so much of my life had to come to pass. The storm that had tested every candidate’s resilience had finally fallen still, inviting me to venture into uncharted waters.
As I stood in court on that morning, 20 August 2026, my thoughts drifted briefly back to the student standing on a bridge in Stellenbosch. The student nervously waiting for the phone call. The student hoping that years of hard work would suffice for someone to believe in her.
I reflected on everything that had brought me to that point. As I stepped forward, it occurred to me that there existed no moment in which I would suddenly feel more ready than I did then. Not because I had all the answers. I didn’t necessarily. But because every matter, every client, every consultation, every late night, and every board exam had silently shaped me into the person standing in front of the Magistrate.
Appearing in court was everything I had imagined it would be and more, and it was only the beginning. I know that there is still so much I do not know and so much I have yet to learn. One day, I hope to stand before the High Court and, if hard work and a little fortune permit, even the Constitutional Court. At this stage, those ambitions still feel distant enough to belong to the realm of dreams. But then again, every advocate, every attorney, and every judge once stood up in court for the very first time at some point. This was my moment to join their ranks.
I owe a great deal to the people who invested in me long before I had done anything of substance to warrant such faith. The mentors, colleagues, and attorneys who shared their time, wisdom, and guidance have shaped not only my legal education, but also the kind of practitioner I hope to become. Their influence has shaped the way I view my responsibilities, service, and what it means to occupy a position of trust in another person’s life.
As I stood in the Cape Town Magistrates’ Court that morning, one final thought crossed my mind: the phone call I received on 11 September 2025 was never merely an offer of articles. It marked the point where years of preparation flowed into purpose, carrying me towards a future dedicated to serving clients through both calm and turbulent waters.
By Cayley Hefer
Candidate Attorney
While every reasonable effort is taken to ensure the accuracy and soundness of the contents of this publication, neither writers of the articles nor the publisher will bear any responsibility for the consequences of any actions based on information or recommendations contained herein. Our material is for informational purposes and should not be construed as legal advice.
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