This stoep is pieces of me. I have played on it with my cousins and other children from the village. I wave polished and shined it (my knees can testify), and I have fallen on it more times than I care to remember.
My grandfather build this house and my father grew up in it. And last year, two days before this picture was taken, my brother welcomed Simthembile into our family in this house.
I actually can’t believe how emotional it makes me to see these two photos next to each other. Same venue, worlds apart. The young Vangi thought she could do it alone. Thought her opinions were created entirely by her and though she was always affected by those around her, she was completely unaware of the effect she could have on them.
Fast-forward to many years later, and she is surrounded by two generations of unsung heroins. Women who have nourished and shaped her, reminding her always, that she comes from so much more than the ME and she has a responsibility to make sure that their voice is never rendered unheard.
Ja ne… This thing called life sometimes. Shout out to everyone who comes from ezilalini! And a special mention to the woman standing front left: my mommy!! If I could be as strong as ANY woman I know (or know of), I would want to be as strong as her.