Ophelia remembers the day well, even though she was barely seven years old.

It was Saturday morning and she was walking home from the shop, the magwenya for her mother warm and sweet-smelling in the packet. As she reached the Community Centre, she heard the loveliest tinkling music from inside. Like a waterfall of notes splashing down onto tiny, shiny pebbles.

Down the dark corridor of the Community Centre, Ophelia followed the music. And there, through the glass door, she saw the equally lovely sight: two rows of girls dressed in pretty pink clothes.

The girls all had their arms curved gracefully above their heads. They all had one toe pointed towards a shiny mirror. Such a huge mirror! It spread across the whole of the wall.

And yes, there in the second row she recognised some of her classmates: Thandeka and Ilana and Sindi. While the music tinkled, the girls danced. Round and round they twirled.

“Just like fairies,” thought Ophelia. “Or like pink flowers in the wind.”

A beautiful woman stepped forward now. She wore a purple shawl, and silver earrings that fell all the way down to her shoulders. She clapped her hands.

“Excellent, my dears. Now let’s get our feet into fifth position.”

Ophelia watched as the girls moved their pink ballet slippers into place. The tinkling music started up again.

There outside the door, Ophelia tried to copy them. But it was difficult, especially with her clumsy black school shoes. She almost tripped and fell.

Then she noticed the sign. Ballet lessons with Madame Jamot. New pupils welcome.

Ophelia ran home with the magwenya bouncing up and down in their packet. They were not quite so warm now.

“Mama!” she burst out. “Please can I do ballet? With Madame Jamot?”

But Mama didn’t seem keen.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart,” she said. “And why are my magwenya cold?”

“Sorry, Mama. Please, please, Mama! I want to do ballet more than anything in the whole world.”

Mama sighed. “I suppose there’s no harm in trying. We’ll talk to the ballet teacher next Saturday.”

That night Ophelia dreamed about being in the ballet lesson too, dressed in pretty pink clothes and curving her arms gracefully over her head. And twirling to the tinkling music. Like a fairy. Like a flower in the wind.

Next day at school, she talked to Thandeka. And Thandeka told her all about the ballet clothes.

“You have to wear a leotard – that’s like a swimming costume, but softer. And the skirt that sticks out – that’s called a tutu. And you have to have special soft ballet shoes …”

Thandeka even showed her the proper way to hold her hands. Ophelia tried, but somehow her fingers didn’t look the way Thandeka’s fingers did. Still, Madame Jamot would help her. Surely?

“I’m coming to ballet lessons next Saturday too,” Ophelia told Ilana and Sindi.

“You!?” said Ilana and Sindi together. They smiled. But the smiles were not very kind. And then the two girls walked away, whispering and giggling.

Ophelia felt hurt. But still – Saturday morning, Mama was going to take her to the Community Centre. And then Madame Jamot would teach her how to be graceful, and put her feet into fifth position, like the other girls.

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