Freshlyground Nomvula
Come closer my friend Here follows a long tale about where the trouble started I was raised by my father Who was bereaved at a young age by his true darling, my mother Edith Nomvula Thomas Mahola There were three of us by my mother, myself the second The middle child of my fahter, Bhut' Doc Nceba Mahola Never did my father cry, when they hid the body of the love of many years At Don Bosco; Kwazakhele... four rooms (with a dining room table) in Porth Elizabeth Neither did the three cry at the side of the grave, Small hands throwing dust to dust not knowing the reason: Tyhini na bethuna! Sis' nono has left us! Sis' nono has left us! Hayini! Never have we seen such a girl raised by a man. Dlamini! Never have they seen such a girl raised by a man. Come closer my friend Here follows a long tale about where the trouble started
