Mama and I have yet another “conversation” on the phone today. I say it this way because we don’t really say many things that the other person can understand but we sure do spend a lot of time laughing and giggling. She says something to me and then roars laughing, finding it so funny to hear me respond in this funny language called English. I try to imagine what English sounds like to Mama, an ever changing language filled with slang and exceptions. We must sound very harsh to her with our rough sounding RRRR’s and Tha’s found in so many of our words. Xhosa is a beautiful language indeed, with the sensual rolling R’s, the strange sound that reminds me of a rounded-cat hiss and of course the famous clicking sounds of which there are three distinct sounds. I have made attempts to learn Xhosa from books and cd’s but I cannot seem to grasp the ability to make a click sound while in middle of a word let alone a sentence. From time to time Gcinsizwe will take a pause from speaking with me to speak with a person asking him a question, I could sit and listen to him speak for hours, if only it didn’t cost me so much in long distance charges. While I listen to him speak Xhosa I take a moment to ponder how it is that such a beautiful group of people with a rich and interesting culture, incredible and complex language and so much kindness could have been persecuted so harshly during the Apartheid era.