The advent of democracy, for many, meant freedom, liberty, living a life without any racial impediments and an opportunity to taste White Cheddar, Mozzarella, and Gouda cheese.

I was born black, grew up black and I’m still black. I have had several encounters with the word ‘love’ and never had I dug deep into its roots nor meaning. I would usual hear my mom saying “Ndiyakuthanda yeva,” to the father I never had. I’ve spent hours searching deep into my intestines, thinking that perhaps the three most powerful words were the one’s filling my empty tummy day and night.

I indulged my senses till Cheddar became my daily bread. I had it till I lost my taste buds in a week. My tummy couldn’t take it no more, I ended up vomiting it. Oh well, I guess my intestines were not fit enough to accommodate both a sour and foreign soul. It was sour in the sense that it tasted like diluted Oros, my dark chocolate skin seemed more appealing than the incorrigible Cheddar.

The following morning I tried both Mozzarella and Gouda. I had grown tired of hearing different stories about how the former was a threat to my security and the later to my health. I have learned that Mozzarella is dangerous when had regularly, however it is safer when had with brown low GI bread. I did not quite enjoy the spicy Gouda because it got me wasting water that South Africa is in need of. Nor did I have Mozzarella at ease, given the threat it posed on my security.

The moral of the story is that South Africa is a rainbow nation and everyone is at liberty to associate themselves with people they deem appropriate for their livelihood. Not drifting away from the fact that women are women, regardless of whether the other one is Cheddar, Gouda or even Mozzarella. However, a number of people have choices thus one cannot impose Cheddar on someone who prefers Mozzarella. And thus, appreciate your Gouda without coercing people to fall for your choice.

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