While answering my mother’s phone call earlier today, I jokingly told her that I’m busy, she should instead write me a letter. I followed by asking whether she wrote any back in the days. In a high-pitched voice, she stated: “Ao thata!”
She went on to describe some of her written messages to my father, during his time in apartheid South Africa, where he was a miner:
“A o tsogile?
Nyaa re teng. O rekele Mma Semangmang ditlhako, size 6. O tlaa nneela madi kwano.”
Blessing Kgosi e tsile Kgasa 