A Letter to Us

Dumelang bagaetsho, My grandmother had told stories of her travels, but I had only thought them half true.

When I first encountered Naledi, I was in a state of despair. Despite the declaration of equality at birth, few lived in dignity, and many more were denied it I found myself one of the many, where my family was once one of the few.

I had written an apology letter to my family, and with a dagger I was heading to the man who had taken everything from us when I met Naledi. She was my age and just as angry as I was, but her anger didn't consume her She offered me water and shared a quick story. Naledi was the third child of the Tsodilo Hills family. The one rarely talked about. She arrived under the moonlight on the calmest of summer nights, riding on a bolt of lightning. The Tswana often say the stars are those unwilling to be born On that night, she finally chose to experience life as humans do And so she was called Naledi, a star

I was deeply curious but thanked her and went on my way. Time passed and I couldn't stop thinking about her. Nevertheless, I had a mission to accomplish. I wondered if she would ever speak to me again if she saw blood on my hands

When I looked back, she waved from a distance, but then suddenly appeared in front of me. She spoke of my name, which I had changed.. “The kids called you hurtful names that didn’t belong to you. How did you respond?” My voice cracked, “Um, I told them my name is Mmoloki” She says, “Right ‘One who saves’ And what do they call you now?” I fell silent for a moment, “ They call me Max”

“Max was never meant to exist, and once he did he was always going to die. In the first, one dies. In the other, many die and many more suffer.”

She smiled, “I am not asking you to shoulder the weight of the world I observed the world before it was split into three Before the one they call The First, carved out living terms for the so-called Second, and Third. Over many lifetimes I watched cities, kingdoms and empires rise and fall. Just as human life... Everything serves its purpose. You cannot shoulder the world, it would indeed crush you. While the weight may not be the fault of all, to bear it certainly is the responsibility With that dagger, there's death in one world In another, many die and many more suffer as a consequence. I ask that you live out who and what you are, Mmoloki. ‘One who saves.’” She then vanished. Left me alone with my own thoughts.

On the back of the letter I had written to my family, I now write this to you May we all live out who and what we are, Bantu.

Sincerely,

Mmoloki