Singing greeted us as we climbed out of the combi. I reached for my mother’s hand and she squeezed her fingers between mine. As the combi roared away, we paused in the shade of the bus shelter for her to regain her breath. Mama closed her eyes and smiled.
‘Oh, my child,’ she said. ‘Can you hear the voices? They sound like angels.’
We walked down the road, taking a few small steps at a time with long rests in between, so Mama didn’t tire. As we rounded the corner, we saw the church, and I sighed in relief.
The Church of New Life was alive! Read the rest of this entry
This is an excerpt from a very beautifully told story by Wame.
Look for Wame’s new book ‘Go Tell the Sun‘ on store shelves.
Ipelegeng searched for her grandfather’s spectacles in the kitchen first, and then in the living room where next to the blue chair he used when he watched TV. She would have put off going to her grandfather’s room longer but her grandfather called to her.
“Ipelegeng, where are you with my spectacles?”
Ipelegeng hesitated at the bedroom door before pushing it open. There were too many reminders of how old her grandfather was getting: false teeth soaking in a glass by the side of his bed, a cup of tea, full and forgotten, the nightlight still on. Her eyes flew to the chest of drawers and the picture of her grandmother and grandfather. Her grandmother’s funeral programme was on the side table. Ipelegeng felt tears stinging her eyes.
The room felt like a dark night brewing a thunderstorm. The scent of mothballs hung heavily in the air. There was a hint of benzene that her grandfather used to clean his suit that hung on the doorknob. She tugged on the cord that parted the heavy curtains, then she opened the windows and the scent of morula fruit floated into the room.
“Ipelegeng! What’s keeping you?” Read the rest of this entry