An illusion

Dr Fahim Chand | Monday May 26, 2025 13:21

Just as quickly, it fell silent. The grass stilled. From high above, a piercing cry drifted down. A great bird sailed through the blue expanse, wings outstretched, its shadow gliding over the earth below. Insects, hidden and tireless, filled the pause with delicate percussion, life’s quiet rhythm.

And then, the voice of my son Ayaan, clear, bright, impossibly sincere, asked a question only a six-year-old could dream up. It cut through the air like a final note, pure and true. Curious, unexpected and perfect.

Music lives deep in me. The blistering guitar genius of Eddie Van Halen, the smooth soulful ache of Branford Marsalis saxophone, both flood me with joy. But nothing quite matches the quiet magic of a moment like this: the sky, the wind, the earth and a child’s voice rising through it all.

Hout Bay revealed itself slowly, its waters shimmering in the morning light, held in the embrace of the vast bay, watched over by the towering Sentinel, that rugged guardian of all who dared cross its threshold.

From high above, Shabana, Ayaan, and I paused to take it in the view, both humbling and exhilarating. We were ascending Chapman’s Peak, each step drawing us higher into the sky.

The trail wound steadily upward, our hearts syncing to the rhythm of effort: legs burning, lungs working overtime to drink in the thin, salty air. It was our first time climbing the peak, and it didn’t go easy on us. The incline demanded focus, strength, and grit.

But we met it head-on, pausing only for sips of water and the occasional silent awe of the world unfolding around us. Reaching the summit, a quiet triumph bloomed within us, a shared exhale of pride and joy.

We had earned this moment, every step carved into memory. And the view that met us? It defied words. A panorama so vast, so achingly beautiful, it felt like the edge of the world. A reward not just of a beautiful landscape, but of spirit. Proof that the hardest climbs often lead to the most unforgettable heights.

The climb was more than just a test of will, it was good, honest exercise in a world where movement is too often optional, yet essential. In an age where knowledge is a swipe away, and social media feeds us a steady diet of sculpted perfection, we’re constantly told that fitness, true, transformative fitness, is within reach.

All we need is the right routine, the right diet, the right supplements. For a price, of course. Influencers with impossibly perfect bodies flood our screens, preaching discipline and hustle, selling the fantasy that anyone can look like them.

But beneath the sheen of protein shakes and motivational mantras, a harder truth simmers: are these physiques the result of dedication, or deception? Consider Brian “Liver King” Johnson, the star of a recent Netflix documentary.

With a body straight out of a comic book, he claimed his chiseled form came from primal living: raw liver, bone marrow, and, yes, prairie oysters. It was a diet few would ever attempt, but conveniently, he sold supplements packed with the same nutrients.

A shortcut maybe, even a transformation. Until leaked emails revealed he was spending $11,000 a month on anabolic steroids to maintain his look. It’s hardly a new story. Decades ago, the wrestler Hulk Hogan urged kids to say their prayers and eat their vitamins, while secretly using steroids for over ten years, a fact that only emerged during a courtroom showdown with WWE’s Vince McMahon. The illusion of the “natural” superhero has long been sold to a willing audience.

Some influencers have come clean, admitting the pharmaceutical help behind their results. But most remain silent or vaguely “all natural.”

Others go a step further, taking drug tests to “prove” their honesty, tests that are easy to pass if you know how. Most steroids clear the system in weeks, but their effects can linger in the body for years. So why do we keep buying in? A 2022 survey by the social enterprise Better offers a clue: 23% of men and a staggering 42% of women say they “rarely” or “never” feel body confident.

In that space of doubt and insecurity, influencers offer more than products, they offer hope, identity, and the illusion of control. And for many, that’s worth any price.