I am a C.

I am a C-H. I am a C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N. I am a C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N in my H-E-A-R-T and I am......

There are many things I adore about my dear B. Her taste in music is not one of them.

Welcome to the new South Africa

Waiting at the bus stop in the township with my friend Patricia today, I noticed a lady trying to get buses but getting frustrated. In the end I asked 'Uyaphi?' (where are you going?), and she explained. Interested that I spoke some Xhosa, she started testing me out, and we had a nice little conversation about how cold it is, how long I waited for the stupid bus this morning, where I work etc. She then turned to my friend and started chatting to her in Xhosa, but Patricia, having grown up in exile, has little beyond 'how are you', and had to apologise for her lack of understanding.

The three of us stood and laughed at the irony for a while, and I announced 'welcome to the new South Africa'.

Breakthrough Days

They can come with no warning whatsoever. There are days when I go to see B and she's being such a grumpy sod that I leave straight away. Then other days I'm feeling awful and my BB cheers me up. Then there are breakthrough days, days when BB is suddenly in an amazingly non-defensive mood, and we have a lovely, heathy, educational time together.

Today was one of those. We sat and coloured in together, whilst L played with baby H on the mat. Then BB found a tiger mask I had brought, and we went to every ward going 'rrraaahhhhhh!' at the top of our voices. Kids who I had never seen laugh before giggled their hearts out at the sight. One staff member played along fantastically and jumped up onto the table.

But then came the real shocker. L was still on the mat when we got back from our ward-round, and B asked to go onto the mat as well. This is a child who often screams her heart out at the very thought of physio. She was keen to show me how she can sit up with me sitting behind her, roll over, and lie on her tummy. LIE ON HER TUMMY! She used to HATE lying on her tummy. Its amazing. There were high fives, cheers, and she even admitted that she's a clever girl.

Brilliant.

Womens Day

Fifty years ago to the day, thousands of women marched to parliament in South Africa and delivered the Women's Charter, demanding rights for all women of the nation. On tv today, Baleka Mbete, the speaker of parliament was talking, and it was pointed out that she was amongst them. It was this fact that astounded me the most. And then somehow shouted 'Watinti bafazi, watinti bogodu' (you strike a woman, you strike a rock), and I started to shout along.

Earlier in the day I was feeling a little regretful that I had said I would take out B and L for the day, thinking that perhaps I would prefer to be sewing or beading or gardening. But as I walked down the road to fetch them, I swelled with pride. What better way to spend women's day than with two of the most amazing young women I know. So it was that we spent this most wonderful of holidays searching out school uniform and sitting in McDonalds. I wouldn't have had it any other way. And for once I allowed myself to congratulate myself - here I was, taking two severly disabled kids out to a crowded public place, one of them with behaviour problems, a tempremental electric wheelchair and epilepsy, and not only did we manage, we actually had a nice time.

When we returned to B's disabled children's home, I gave each of the older girls a kiss on the cheek and wished them happy women's day. They all beamed back at me.

A good day.

Happy women's day to all the incredible women in my life. Goodness knows there are many of you.