The fall of Apartheid was a godsend.
Irene was never late.
Granddad woke us up early every morning, as early as a sparrow’s fart, and he always had a big smile … More
Zululand dusk, the colors overwhelmed, the upcoming dance noisy and exceptional. That was once my home.
Rain didn’t stop the rush of movement downtown, where Sam’s Café never closed and the “Kim!” store sold stuff … More
This is where she lived those early days, when the flowers bloomed fresh and large.
Hewey brought out the old guitar Saturday nights, when the crickets sparked into song and the kids curled up in … More
The street noise at my window was a constant reminder that just beyond the glass lay a city of colors.
In another world, they called them young ladies. Here they’re called rascals.
She moved with fabric-free blue gentility, this noble soul — and her eyes reflected mine.
Those were my sassy days, when I ran free and spoke a thousand languages.
I loved the way the sun played at her neck and face. We didn’t speak the same language, but we … More