One of the biggest blessings I had as the only grandchild at the time was living with my maternal grandmother.
Living with Mama meant sharing lots of domestic routines. I wouldn’t call it domestic bliss. Every morning, the rooster would wake the household at 03:00, 05:00, and 06:00. Imagine!
The 5am rooster call meant that Mama would get her coffee from my aunt. Like lots of us, she never got out of bed without her cup of coffee. But the enjoyment of her favourite brew was not a solitary experience. Every morning, she would share her priceless cuppa with me by pouring some of it into a saucer. If there is anything that epitomised her love for me, it was this simple act of love.
After her first cup, she will get up and go about her daily chores, leaving me to sleep until 6am, when I would get up and get ready for school.
One story from those early mornings in Burgersdorp has stayed with me.
We were a household that grew up with cats. Mama heard me snoring and found our cat sleeping “dangerously” close to my face. She told me that the cat was drawing my breath away from me, and I could die.
I can’t say whether this story is true or an old maid’s tale. What made an impact on me was the love and care that Mama showed to me every day in the little things … love for her was action … sharing her coffee with me, letting me sleep in, and protecting me from the cat who was “stealing” my breath
