On our way to celebrate my little sister passing matric, our aunt (family friend) called to congratulate her. My mom passed the phone to my sister and as per my culture, my sister responded with endless polite 'yebos' (yes) and 'ngiyabongas' (thank you's). About 30 seconds into their conversation, my sisters responses where awkwardly softer, after she had hung up, she told us that Aunty Noma just started crying while they where talking >>> ThAt AwKwArD MoMeNt<<< we laughed because we knew it was tears of joy...
Whenever I think back to this moment I am reminded of the love that I grew up surrounded by. I was not raised by my mom alone, but by our helpers, family friends and loving neighbours. Discipline had no home, I got a hiding from the neighbour or at a friend's house, I was never hungry nor destitute. Every parent took it upon themselves to make sure that we were safe, fed and spanked! All in the name of love. Yes there were horrible parts of childhood that left scars but it could have been worse without the love and care that God had placed in these women.
I was truly raised by a village and I hope and pray that one day, I'm given the selfless and loving opportunity to raise a village!
God is truly the Creator, imagine a world where we all spoke one language, dressed, sang and shared the same cultural practices, it would be a pweetty dull world!