BY
ZELDA MARGO
“I’m Mpho,” said the smart young woman. “Do you remember me?” Ruth Atkinson
looked embarrassed, shook her head. “I’m Grace Masango’s daughter.”
People were swarming noisily about. Every table at Mugg & Bean taken, a typical
Saturday morning at the Mall.
“Mpho,” said Ruth, pointing to a chair, “Hope you have time to join me. What
will you have?” Mpho ordered a cappuccino while Ruth gathered her thoughts.
“Yes, of course. Your mother was with me for several years when we lived in the
big house. That was about fifteen years ago.”
“Mrs Atkinson, I spent one holiday with my mother. I was about ten years old.
You and Mr Atkinson left for America on business. My mother was taking care of
Gillian and Mark. Your daughter taught me to swim in your pool. We were of a
different colour; spoke a different language; South African children able to be
chums for a short while.”
Ruth wasn’t sure if she was blushing, or it might have been the heat despite the
air-conditioning.
“Mpho, how is Grace, and what do you do?”
“Mrs Atkinson, my mother is well and lives with my older brother Vusi and his
family. He’s a lawyer. Hard to believe, he was such an angry boy. I’m a nurse
and work in the Rosebank Clinic. Now tell me about Gillian.”
“Yes, Gillian, she lives in America. You know the gross materialism that America
typifies. Her husband is a successful doctor. They work with hard; like bees.
She is involved with good works and spends a great deal of time at the gym. They
have two girls, my beautiful grandchildren. I don’t see them often. I hate
flying and they are always busy, busy, busy.”
“And Mark, Mrs Anderson?”
“He lives in Austria with a girl not of our faith.”
“Does that bother you?”
“I hate to say it, but yes, it does. He is overplaying the differences from his
parents.”
“Mrs Atkinson, do ask Gillian and Mark if they remember me. I’m pleased that I
recognised you. Sorry I have to run, I’m on duty today. Thanks for the
cappuccino.”
“Mpho, give my good wishes to your mother. She’s a lucky lady. Goodbye.”
Ruth Atkinson ordered another coffee, and sat thinking that it was possible to
re-arrange one’s prejudices.
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