Khumbul'ekhaya

Flashing yellow, blue and red lights paint the streets with decadent colours, inviting a gathering crowd to view the consequences of a split second decision. The silver of the emergency blanket glistens against the sea of faces, creating a natural glow as though angels had gathered in mourning. The sight they witness blinds them with horror; nevertheless they continue staring with transfixed concentration and fascinated eyes.

Her body lies in the aftermath of debris of the car accident; little baby girl lies there without even a subtle breath to show that once she was a living human something. A stream of blood flows on the surface of the tar road. Making it unbearable for most viewers to keep peeping, whimpers from her little friends whisper to those who need to do the comforting. Seizing these little figures within their embrace, they too cannot help but to discover a tear or two within themselves for the little girl who was temporarily buried on the road.  Her uniform still remaining in its original form - dirty with dust as it clings to her sweat. Short white socks soaking in blood convert to crimson; school shoes still shining mirror objects against them. Her mother screams....

Morning rituals performed without a moment spared to appreciate just minor details of this luxury. She wakes her usual 6am and stamps her daughter with a wet kiss on her forehead. Shaking her body gently and swaying her slowly so she can escape out of dreamland. Making movement beneath the blanket she stretches and sits in a position to greet her mother mechanically half asleep.

Laughter greets her ears, as a result of her mother giggling in the kitchen. Slowly crawling out of bed she dizzily makes her way to the washing bath, which her mother had filled with hot water. It was her job to put the cold water in and choose just the right amount of warmth she is prepared to laze in.

Time passes and the water cools down. The steam has evaporated to paste against the cracked bathroom window. Her mother takes a towel and dries her, because she just rinsed, never even touching the soggy bar of soap. Her mother knows her too well. Hands basted in creamy lotion, she slowly moistures her little baby’s body, tenderising and making the light brown caramel carpet of skin, glow.