To Khaya With Love

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Samara Jr. Zimmel. To Khaya With Love

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

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Now that we are in a new country, and you are born here, my granddaughter, I see it as my pleasant duty to write to you so that you will know our origins. Therefore let me introduce you to your family:

We come from the eastern part of South Africa, the warmest one called Natal-kwa Zulu. My parents came from a small district of Eshowe. My dad is Maurus Mzimela, my mother is Maria Mzimela, originally Ngonyama. Our surname Mzimela may mean “press on, lean hard to, standing independently or trusting strongly on.”

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He was a quiet godly man, my father was, about 7.5ft, a gentleman of gentlemen. Never raised his voice.

When he spoke his word was like the voice of God. Where there was an argument or doubt about a situation his word would close all argument. One incident I remember was when one of my nephews walked out of the shop with a candy bar without paying for it. The supermarket owner phoned home saying we should come get him and pay for the candy or they will call the police. My brother (his father) was livid with anger and said, “Let them take him to prison and teach him a lesson.” Generally everybody was upset about what this boy had done. Can you imagine a good Catholic family of right standing in the community having now to deal with this shameful act? I tell you it was a big thing never been done by anybody in our family.

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