After crossing from Robben Island to Blouberg Beach, deaf swimmer Ariella Levin’s grandmother Irene Marx has only one way to describe her beloved grandchild: “You are my crazy, courageous little dolphin.”
Her recent 8km swim, completed in two hours and 23 minutes, is the latest accomplishment of this fiercely determined 22-year-old, who first discovered a love of water splashing around in the bath with her sister. In the water, she has found a world of her own. While she now has cochlear implants, she can’t wear them when swimming, and it’s there that silence brings peace.
Levin’s family didn’t know she was deaf at birth, only discovering it when she was eight months old. One day, her mother, Karen Jankelow, came home and the door slammed shut behind her. Levin, who was in the room playing with her toys, didn’t flinch. The family thought it was perhaps an ear infection, but further medical tests showed she didn’t have any hearing at all.
Over the years, she became one of the youngest people to undergo a cochlear transplant, although it took four operations to achieve full success. With extensive speech and hearing therapy at a specialised nursery school, Levin was able to mainstream into Grade 0 and thrived during her school years. She does rely on lip-reading as well, but otherwise her “bionic ears”, as Jankelow dubs them, have served her well.
When she started swimming lessons, her teacher soon picked up she was very good at it. At one stage, scheduling conflicts placed her in her older sister, Talia’s, swimming age-group and Levin became determined to keep up with those two years older than her. It was a competitive edge that later helped her to make the school’s A-Team.
Although she would be given a hand signal at galas instead of the usual gun start, causing her always to start a few seconds late, she was unperturbed, saying, “I was still one of the strongest on the team.”
However, it hasn’t always been calm waters when it comes to Levin’s hearing impairment and swimming. When she was seeking to join a squad out of school, she was rejected a few times, being told it was too inconvenient to cater for one deaf teammate when everyone else could hear. Another time, she was told she couldn’t be made a captain of a team because as a deaf person, she couldn’t “motivate the players”.
“But I carried on swimming. I was never going to give up something that I love because of what someone else said,” Levin says.
In Grade 9, Levin discovered her love of open-water swimming after she took part in the Midmar Mile for the first time. At first, the jostling of hundreds of people felt overwhelming, especially since “when you are deaf and swimming, you aren’t involved in the outside world”. However, soon Levin found her own rhythm in the water. “It became my time,” she says, alongside the “adrenaline rush of swimming with everyone next to me, making it feel more like a team sport.”
Soon, one Midmar Mile wasn’t enough for her, and she began to push to do multiple sets. She also completed the Sun City Swim, which takes place in a huge dam, and came first in the disabled women division.
Last year in February, Levin completed eight Midmar Miles in memory of her boyfriend, Adam Rabinovitch, who died in a tragic car accident. Rabinovitch, who wore hearing aids, was a responder with Hatzolah, and Levin raised R35 000 for the organisation with her swim.
She still feels the pain of his loss, but remains appreciative of the time she had with him. “I’m very grateful for it. Obviously, I wish it was longer, but we can wish for a lot of things.”
Even her most recent Robben Island swim was marked as an act of commemoration, writing Rabinovitch’s name, as well as that of her late uncle, Leonard Marx, on her back in tribute.
She says in the moments that the race become physically difficult, her mind turned to them. “I thought about how it’s not only about me, I can’t disappoint anyone. And I thought about how Adam and Lenny didn’t get to live out their dreams, so I must push on as I get to live mine.”
Levin was originally inspired to train for her Robben Island swim after reading a book about South African extreme swimmers. “I read it in about a day, and decided I have to do this!”
Her first step was to take ice-baths, in which she immersed herself in freezing water for 20 minutes to acclimatise her body and build up visceral fat.
“It’s a mental game. At first, you are shaking so hard, you could literally generate electricity, but then after 10 minutes, your body just completely calms down. It’s such a serene moment.”
During COVID-19, she began training with coach Cyndi Starr, who previously worked with deaf South African swimmer Terence Parkin.
In December, the family went to Cape Town, and she began swimming in the sea. The night before she was to complete her Robben Island swim through Big Bay Events, the country went into full lockdown and the beaches were closed. Although disappointed, she remained convinced that another opportunity would arise.
That time arrived last month, and Levin, her mother, and grandmother found themselves back in Cape Town. On the morning, Levin recalls looking at the huge swells and misty conditions in Blouberg with concern. Nevertheless, she was soon on the boat that takes swimmers to the starting point on Robben Island, having already worked out a communication system with the skipper and assistant who follow the swimmers on their route.
While the length of the swim should be 7.5km, at one stage, she veered sideways, extending the time, jokingly declaring it was “because I was overachieving”.
The swim was difficult and exhilarating. At some point, “what’s so nice with the cold, is that your mind goes blank, but then especially when you can’t see anything around you except the water and the boat, you have to draw on your mental strength to cope”.
“When I was 2km away, I did think, ‘I’m never doing this again’, but then, as my feet touched the sand on finishing, I said, ‘Oh, I am so doing this again!’”
Indeed, Levin says swimming has taught her a lot about having the right attitude to life. “Often when I’m swimming and I really just want to give up or I’m tired, I say to myself, ‘It doesn’t matter how fast or slow you go. Just keep moving.’”
It’s a lesson her mother and sister say has been profound for them too. Talia says as the older sister, she took on the role of teacher to her sister, one that inspired her to pursue a career as a foundation-phase teacher. Levin remains “the light of my life; she is literally my world”.
Jankelow says her daughter has been her teacher. “She has taught me you do things without needing it to be about being perfect. She’s so confident in herself as she is.”
