Page 27 - The Mending Season

more after my first year there, and how I should always remember to make them proud. I quietly marvelled at my new self, my head filled with pictures ofwhat it would be like to walk side by side with White, Indian and Coloured girls. As they fussed over my uniform, I was constantly fixing my hair, my body in flames of excitement.We passed shops that had replaced “Whites Only” with “Right of Admission Reserved”, and went to a cafe for fish and chips. We sat and ate them outside near the taxi rank. Mmamane Mabatho said, “Maybe if they re taking children in the White schools we’ll get places to sit and eat in town soon.” While Mmamane Malebone nodded in agreement, Mmamane Malesedi said she wouldn’t put her money on it, but that it had to happen before the end ofthe nineties.Ofallfour women,Malebone was always the one who wanted alittle more contact with the rest ofthe world. When she was younger she would stand at the gate and watch the street, longing to bepart o fthe groups o fchildren skipping, running andfighting out there. She was always the one to calm her sisters down. She would braid their hair or cookfor them when they werefeeling uneasy about something. She would sit quietly and read when Tumane chased a man out o fthe house, but Malesedi and Mabathowould run outside to watch.In her late night talks with Mabatho, she always expressed herneed to have children. “Life would not be complete without them,” she told her sister. This need intensified with the years andfinally, after Tumane's death, she decided it was timefo r her to raise a child.21