Polite

She is the tiniest little person I have ever seen, her face is perfectly formed and her hands concluded by the most miniscule of digits. Impossible to imagine her ever being able to hold anything in it. Her guardian is a seventy two year old grandma whose steady hands are surprisingly nimble around the contours of the little infant’s body. Grandma has glistening yellow eyes and three random teeth that all seem to shift position as her facial expressions change. She broke out in celebratory yodelling as I walked in with Lela on my arm. Instinctively I embraced her and Joyce’s mother, also seventy odd, and within seconds Lela was ripped from my arms and made to deal with the gogo’s. Lela is my own little blessing.

Gogo bade us welcome and immediately brought out the food they had carefully prepared. They used the good plates and even went to the neighbours next door to ask for a beetroot accompaniment. This was served separately in a clear Tupperware bowl with a blue lid. The chicken portions were small so we each got two indistinguishable pieces deep fried until it was a delicious golden crisp, the kind you crunch and grind with your teeth. The rice had just enough spice in it and was covered with a yellowish onion concoction that was delicious and I reminded me of aromat. The meal was appreciated and it was filling.

A humble house, large and spacious, cracking mud (crete) walls, no different than some I have seen in more affluent areas in Centurion. The roof is flat and the house smells clean, not a spec of dust in sight. I suppose it’s difficult for dust to settle if there is nothing for it to settle on. No clutter, no money for clutter. Simple simplicity that could rival any minimalist penthouse in Potsdammers Platz in Berlin. The sun bakes down hard on this soil. It seems to burn everything into its place like a living tattoo. The blazing sun seems to be burnt into the faces and places of Winterveldt. Everyone walks just a few steps slower and there is a constant buzzing or humming that can only be described as silence.

People are gathered in same sex groups on the larger corner plots, some play soccer, some play music and drink beer. The women either walking away or towards their men with various expressions on their faces, their success or annoyance clearly visible as they glide over the bumps on the dusty hard mud roads. Their clothes modest and puritanical, a David Tlale design might as well be from Mars in this environment. Come to think of it David might be from Mars himself!

Not a trace of rubbish or litter about, a dog tied down with a shorter restraint than needs be, I have to stop myself from walking over to the old bitch to loosen her up, I wished to touch and stroke her. I realised though that this might not be the appropriate thing to do. One must observe the customs of others especially when one is far from home. I am about 90 minutes from Midrand in Winterveldt, just outside Shonsonguve.

Polite’s mother passed away leaving behind 3 young children the youngest being Polite at just three weeks. Her other two sons 6 and 9 already are adjusted to their new situation. I caught them en-route to church, dressed in their Sunday best. They looked like normal naughty shy boys. The reason I am here is to meet the family and to see if there is anything I can do to help with Polite. Every little helps I say, leaving home to Midrand a few hours later, it dawns on me that I have just met my other daughter. Polite Jamle Miller!

PlS pray to the diety of your devotion and keep her in your minds and hearts. I was a little concerned she had bad thrush in her mouth but I could do nothing this time. Next month I am taking her some more money and am looking for a pram, cot, blankets, towels, nappies, milk etc…let me know if you can help. T