Villeria, Pretoria.

In February 1952 we arrived as immigrants in the Union of South Africa and settled in Villeria on the outskirts of Pretoria. Ours was the third-last house in Pretoria and next to it was open veld; the road paving stopped a block before our house. Shortly after our arrival, my siblings entered the school system and my parents returned to work. At the age of four, I was too young for either of these scenarios. Therefore I was placed in the care of a nanny.

My nanny belonged to Matabele tribe, whose village was just outside Villeria, and their tribal territory stretched northward as far as Southern Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe. It didn't take long for me to figure out that the nanny did not speak Dutch, nor I Matabele. I was totally intrigued by her looks, her decorations and all I could do was stare, to which she responded with a smile.

 

The women of her village decorate their huts with homemade paints in bold geometric patterns and primary colours. These designs and colours which carried through into their beadwork. With their tiny beads, they create bracelets, necklaces, hair bands, earrings and bracelets on top of bracelets. The brass rings around their legs were permanent as were the bead covered straw bands.

Neither my mother nor my sisters had pierced earlobes and I was captivated by the beauty of my nanny's earrings. I asked her if she could pierce my earlobes as well, to which she agreed. She hauled out some grass to form some temporary earrings; then she grabbed a cork and the huge safety pin from the closure to her coat. Placing a cork behind my lobe and she started to push on the blunt safety pin. I screamed. She stopped.  My ear piercing session came to an end.

It had taken another thirty-five years before I found enough courage to walk into the ear piercing shop in North Vancouver's Lynn Valley Mall. The sterile process was quick and painless.  I left with a pair of shiny gold loops and the start of my earring collection.