throw it in the dustbin. “Rubbish!
This is rubbish!” Then she’d start to
launch into me and I’d say, “Ah-ah-
ah. No. You have to write a letter.”
Then I’d go to my room and wait for
her reply. This sometimes went
back and forth for days.
The letter writing was for
minor disputes. For major
infractions, my mom went with the
ass-whooping. Like most black
South African parents, when it
came to discipline my mom was old
school. If I pushed her too far, she’d
go for the belt or switch. That’s just
how it was in those days. Pretty
much all of my friends had it the