Sunday afternoon. Even though
apartheid had ended, my mom had
made her decision: She didn’t want
to get married. So we had our
house, and he had his. I’d made a
deal with my mom that if I went
with her to mixed church and white
church in the morning, after that I’d
get to skip black church and go to
my dad’s, where we’d watch
Formula 1 racing instead of casting
out demons.
I celebrated my birthday with
my dad every year, and we spent
Christmas with him as well. I loved
Christmas with my dad because my
dad celebrated European Christmas.