Angela stood frozen to the floor. She knew what her mother was saying. Once in a moment of intimacy, and to warn her off having a boyfriend, her ma had told her how she had become pregnant as a teenager and how she had been left alone to cope. “That will never happen to you”, she had said. “You stay good. You are my little angel.”

But now MaSelebi’s worst fears had come true. 

“How could I be so blind?” her mother cried. “Why didn’t I notice before?”

“Because why, you never take any interest in me,” said Angela softly.  “You never look at me when I wash or get undressed, like there was something wrong with my body. I always feel weird, awkward somehow, in front of you.”

“When did you know?” she hissed, ignoring what Angela had just said.

“Angazi,” Angela whispered through her sobs.

“You don’t know?” Her mother mocked her, throwing the mop with a crash to the floor.  

“Last September I went to stay with Uncle Billy. I met this boy. But I didn’t know anything. 

I mean I only felt something around Christmas time.”

“Aiwah! This is too much! I’ve worked SO HARD to keep you in line!  Did you ever listen to a word I said?” 

How could I not? thought Angela. Every day you said the same thing, over and over. And in her head she could still hear how her ma used to rant: Don’t stay out after dark; don’t play with the other children; don’t talk to boys; don’t ask questions; don’t talk dirty. That was the worst. What was dirty about asking questions?  

Angela gritted her teeth as her mother slapped her face. 

WHAT DO YOU THINK? What is ‘dirty talk’ in your household? What are you allowed to ask about? Who do you talk to about sex?