Part 3

This past week, my mom’s oldest son and his daughter, Jablila, have been staying with us, which makes me very happy. Now, I love Simeko and Xihluki, the two little girls who live with us full-time, but they cannot decide if they love me or not. While I have on occasion had fun playing with them, the latest pattern seems to be that they will stand in the yard yelling for me (whether I am home or not, I am told) but, when I at last appear, burst into tears. I think the calling for me is instigated by the younger one, Simeko, who is not actually that afraid of me, and the crying is instigated by Xihluki, who is.

Jablila, however, is about six and most definitely not afraid of me. Moreover, along with her come a couple of her friends who are also not afraid of me. They’re shy sometimes, but there’s no bursting into tears. They prefer instead to hold my hand while we walk, play with my hair, sing and dance for me, or even just sit near me staring, all of which I find infinitely preferable to the crying vagaries of the younger girls and makes for a generally brighter, less stressful time at home.

Jablila won several trophies recently at school, one for Xitsonga recitation and the other for song and dance. Jablila is shy enough that she didn’t want to perform them for me with any ceremony, but she still wanted me to see her dance. So, she would start doing the march that went along with the song so that I could see it out of the corner of my eye, but if I looked at her directly she would usually stop. Eventually, in this manner, I got to appreciate the bulk of the marching dance she had won the trophy for. Her only-slightly-less-shy friend was, in the meanwhile, spinning around in his chair reciting every song, rhyme, or hymn he could remember learning at his crèche.

Under their good example, Xihluki at last stopped crying