The Great Flood – Day 3
Dear Diary,

More rain. Can you believe it? Like, we went two months with NOT A DROP, and now we’ve got a year’s supply where Mama had her vegetable garden. Although, I have to be honest, I’m not sorry that the beetroot has gone, or the turnips. Of course, I do NOT say that in front of Mama, because I’m not asking to meet Jesus in person today.

Meanwhile, I need something to DO. I mean, I like to read, but after 30 minutes, I gotta move. I’ve choreographed three dances today, alone. But it is killing me not to be able to send at least a quick video to Vatiswa to show her my moves. You know she’d be dancing with me, adding to it, mixing things up, if I could contact her.

Meanwhile, I am giving that rising water the evil eye. How much longer until I am ankle deep every time I have to go downstairs and eat? Could you imagine, trying to get some orange juice and some fish starts nibbling your toes.

Eish. If that happens, I will scream so loud the angels will never sleep.

Desperately missing my friends,
~ Khuthele

The Great Flood – Day 4
Dear Diary,

So you might laugh, but I got out my paints today. They’re leftovers from my Grade 9 art supplies. I do not miss having to take art, that class was STRESS. But I always did like playing with paint, mixing the colours.

Mama peeked her head into my room (does the woman NEVER knock?) and warned me not to show them to Sphetfo. I assured her I would not. Because I do not want to see what that child would do with my acrylics. But I did point out to Mama that I had nothing much to paint ON. As I don’t have any unlined paper around, let alone canvas.

Mama suggested I go into that little courtyard she has, where she grows her herbs, and take some rocks to paint. Claims she saw some lady on the internet that turned rocks into these cute little animals.

So I went back there but … you know, I just couldn’t help it, this one rock looked EXACTLY like Sphetfo’s potato head. Another kind of looked like Mama, when she’s wrapped her head after piling her hair high. A third was kind of squarish, that reminded me of Tata’s strong jaw. And another was just perfect – so me, obviously.

It was weird. I got really into it. Here I am, unable to sit still and read for more than 30 minutes at a time, but I managed to spend TWO SOLID HOURS painting.

I don’t understand it. But I am LOVING it. It’s like FINALLY my brain settles down and isn’t so antsy, like a mosquito looking for its next bite.

Speaking of mosquitoes those suckers are still here, and I just can’t, anymore. Why hasn’t the human race figured out how to eliminate them? I mean, we have all these fantastic animals DYING out. Polar bears, and rhinos, and albino giraffes, but the good Lord has allowed mosquitoes to be here since the age of the dinosaurs. Really, their time on this planet should be done.

Itchy, yet loving my paints,
~ Khuthele


Tell us: Do you ever feel like Khuthele, restless and unable to focus? She found painting helped calm her, and keep her attention. Do you have any activities that help you in the same way?