Racial Profiling

While staying in friend Ian Whitton’s lovely cottage outside Stanford, near Hermanus, we visited the mission town of Elim and its mission station, tsurts and watermill:


In the village we stopped for some cooldrinks. The family decided to stay in the car as I ducked into a little roadside store. A line of little kids were sitting leaning against the wall all in a row outside the door, watching me.


Four-year-old Jess changed her mind and ran after me, grabbing my hand as I drew level with the local gang. Where they’d looked at me rather disinterestedly, they now perked up. One dug her mate in the ribs with her elbow: “Kyk! Sy’s ‘n Hotnot!” she exclaimed excitedly.

Published by bewilderbeast

It's about life, marriage, raising kids, paddling rivers, travel in Africa . . . re-posting thoughts written over decades - at random, I'm afraid.

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