The events I’ve described took place in the early 1980’s. A just and democratic South Africa seemed almost unimaginable in those years. In our microcosm at school, we created the reality of a vision secretly held in so many hearts across our country. In this microcosm, we lived an integrated existence – multiracial playdates took place over weekends, at times white parents took their children’s non-white friends with them to eat in restaurants on birthdays because race was not a factor in their hearts. Everyone learned to pronounce students’ names that weren’t familiar to the Western tongue, and parents and students learned about cultures and beliefs that weren’t their own. Many of us still feel the strength and the sacredness of the bonds formed back then – the nuns passed on the torch to us; the flaming torch of a unified world! Their teachings and legacy are still alive in me.

As a child, outside the safe haven the nuns provided, there was a part of me that learned to fearfully respect authority and fit inside whatever box I was told to fit into. I knew that as a non-white South African during Apartheid I had to tow the line because there wouldn’t be many remaining choices if I stood up and said NO. I grew up not feeling safe much of the time – there have been very few spaces in my life where I’ve felt safe to BE me and know that I wouldn’t get hurt. I’ve always appreciated safe, warm spaces and recognised my need for such spaces.