At the doorway of his mother's shack,

he sat staring out into the hot, dusty day.

 He was holding a blue lollipop.

One early morning there was a thick mist. To my surprise I saw three horses slowly walking past my window.

They met in a tin shed. It was

broiling hot. I sat with them and

listened to their intense discussions

as to who should be included in

the group.

After the funeral we went to the

grave site, where the women sang

and the priest prayed. After the

coffin was lowered into the ground,

the men picked up spades and

started shoveling the red earth into

the hole.

Thembi lives in the shacks.

She has a preschool for

some thirty children, whom she feeds,

teaches, sings to, 

and loves.

We went to visit the Sangoma, or

Witch Doctor, who lived in the

shacks, to see how his garden was coming along.

I visited the hospice where Joyce was dying.

She showed me the photograph

of her daughter,

the love of her life.