Like many young musicians in South Africa, Ofentse’s journey wasn’t easy. She started learning music not in a formal setting, but by listening. Her first instrument was the recorder, but she wanted to do something different, something that set her apart. After some research, she discovered the bassoon—a rare instrument in her circles. Under the mentorship of Penny Fraser, who introduced her to classical music, Ofentse took to the bassoon with incredible determination. She started at age 13 and by 14, she was already performing in concerto festivals with the Johannesburg Symphony Orchestra.

Her passion for the instrument was matched by an unshakable work ethic. She did pushups and sit-ups while practicing breathwork, determined to develop the stamina needed to compete physically with her peers. She sought out international competitions, measuring herself against students from Germany and beyond. But beyond the technical mastery, what made Ofentse stand out was her expressiveness—her ability to make the bassoon speak, to make it feel like a human voice carrying emotion and meaning.

Yet, for all the discipline and training, the real power of music revealed itself when she played for others. Growing up in Meadowlands in Soweto, she noticed that audiences often zoned out when faced with certain classical pieces. Instead of accepting that detachment, she changed her approach. She began incorporating African rhythms and familiar melodies—Hugh Masekela, choral harmonies, music that resonated with her community. Suddenly, people were engaged. They were listening. Music, she realised, had the power to bridge worlds.

One of the most profound moments in her career came when she performed at a funeral. As the coffin was going down the grave, she played a bassoon sonata. People started crying—not just from grief, but because the music allowed them to process their emotions in a way words never could. Music, she understood then, is a form of healing. Often, musicians don’t even realize the impact they have, but in those moments, they become vessels for collective emotion, helping others navigate their pain and find solace.

Music has long been central to African culture—not just as entertainment, but as a means of communication, storytelling, and spiritual connection. For instance, in the township choral tradition, people sing when a child is born, they sing when mourning, they sing to connect with ancestors. During apartheid, people would hide in churches for safety, and in their fear, they would start to sing. Music was a refuge, a form of resistance, a source of hope. Ofentse believes that bringing music to communities—performing in churches, in public spaces, offering free and accessible concerts—is one of the most important things musicians can do. Music should not be locked away in concert halls; it should live where people live.

Her own journey was shaped by the unwavering support of her family. Her father, a tenor who sang with the Soweto Teachers Choir, a regular partner to the SABC orchestra, understood the depth of music. Her mother, despite financial struggles, made sure she got to every rehearsal and performance. Often, they couldn’t afford tickets to see her play, so they would take turns—one parent sitting in the car while the other watched. Penny Fraser, guided by her love for music and her belief in music’s ability to transform lives, also played a pivotal role, offering mentorship and free lessons when money was tight.

Ofentse’s dedication to music meant making sacrifices. She was once an actor on Generations and even received an offer for a promotion. But she walked away from that to pursue music, despite societal pressures that made her question whether she was making the right choice. Funding her studies at UCT took two years to secure. The financial burden of tertiary studies being immense, The Mzansi National Philharmonic Orchestra stepped in through their Cadetship prorgamme, as did a UCT scholarship.

Yet, through it all, her loyalty to her instrument kept her going. She refused to be discouraged. She knew that music was not just something she played—it was part of her identity. When people see Ofentse, they see the bassoon. And through that instrument, she speaks, she heals, she transforms.

Her work with the Ionian Chamber Orchestra, where she served as principal bassoonist, highlights musicians of colour and African composers. It is part of her larger mission—to expand representation, to redefine classical music in a South African context, and to bring audiences into a world that reflects their stories. A standout moment for her came when she attended a performance by the Boston Philharmonic Youth Orchestra in 2023 at a historic church in Soweto. As they performed Mahler’s 5th Symphony with the Gauteng Choristers, something remarkable happened. The audience—many of whom had never experienced orchestral music before—did not sit in hushed reverence as is customary in traditional concert halls. Instead, they ululated with joy, celebrating the music and the space in a way that felt profoundly South African. For Ofentse, this moment reinforced her belief that classical music belongs to everyone, not just those in distant concert halls, but in the very heart of communities where people are eager to listen, to feel, and to celebrate music in their own way.

Life without music, Ofentse believes, is dull. Music is spiritual. It heals. It soothes. It teaches. It gives hope. Traditional healers use music to connect with ancestors. Mothers sing and play uhadi to check if their babies are responsive. Music carries history, culture, and memory. It transforms not just the musician, but everyone who listens. Ofentse Segale is living proof of that.