Despite the troubled environment in which we lived, our home was full of our happy children, running around everywhere. By 1965, we were blessed with six children – Tammie, the twins Dudu and Nomhamha, Mongezi, and Andile and Linda. I sometimes wondered if they were really all mine, but yes, they were, all six of them.

Tammie, the eldest, was the chatty and confident one. Dudu, the boy twin, was a kind and loving child, if a little tearful and needy of love and care. Even at the age of six, Dudu would ask for help when dressing himself or carrying his bag to school, even though he was fit and healthy enough to carry it himself.

Nomhamha, Dudu’s twin, was always neat and particular from an early age. When she was six she refused to stand on the bare floor when she woke up in the morning. She wanted a bedside mat or her slippers. I think she was sometimes lonely, being the only girl among all these brothers. She loved playing with dolls and her younger brothers when they were little, but they soon grew too restless for girls’ games and would rather kick a ball around outside. She would then try to help them – and perhaps win them over – by neatly packing all their drawers during the weekends when tidying up her dolls’ clothes.

Mongezi, whom we called Tura, performed well at school, especially in the junior years. He was tall and pretended to be Dudu’s twin, which amused Dudu at the time. But he was also close to his sister and would help her bake scones for Sol, closely following her instructions. It was almost as though he was a third twin to the two of them.

Andile, our fourth son, was the second perfectionist in the family. Like his father, he was neat, strict and hardworking. From an early age, he liked to be part of a group, whether in doing chores or playing games.

Our lastborn child was Linda, the fifth son of our big family. By the time he was growing up, some of his siblings were at high school already. He was a playful boy and had lots of hand-me-down toys to play with.

In the evenings, during bathtime, the younger ones would splash water all over the floor. Bath time involved more than just plugging a bath and running the water, because of the single outside tap. We had improvised a shower for Sol and me, and for Tammie, who was entering his teens when our youngest was still a toddler. Nomhamha washed in her bedroom with Ntsikie’s help. Ntsikie was the trusted nanny Olga had kindly found for my children. For the four youngest boys, Sol and I would move the kitchen table to one side and bring out two zinc bathtubs in the middle of the floor, one bigger than  the other. Nine-year-old Dudu and Tura, who was eight, would bath themselves in the one tub while I helped Andile, who was six, and Linda, who was three, in the other.

It sounds like a lot of work, but we were committed to giving our children the best care. Besides, Sol and I both grew up in rural areas, where there was no water on tap. It was easy for us to cobble together a solution. We even got some big metal buckets in which we heated the water on the coal stove.

After the boys had bathed we would wrap them each in a bath towel and they would run into the living room, where their pyjamas would be waiting for them. There they would drop their towels and quickly get dressed, at times pulling on the wrong size by mistake. Dressing time was always a time for laughing because the difference in pyjamas was only in the size and not the colour.

When they were dressed, my heart would melt to see them stand in a straight line, their hands together and eyes tightly closed, ready to say the Lord’s Prayer. I was always amused at how they mumbled the words so quickly that you would think they had hot potatoes in their mouths. Afterwards, Sol and I would take out the baths and mop the kitchen floor, teasing each other for having so many children. They were a lot of work and often demanded more energy than we had to give, but we were both grateful to have so much love in our lives. The family is the oldest institution on Earth. I committed to developing my children because they were created inside me and had a role to play in society. I believed – and still believe – that the family is the best structure God has made to raise children to become responsible adults. Sol and I knew, without a doubt, that a happy, stable family would provide a haven of safety and security for our children. I am very pleased to say that we were a happy family.

We became parents in our early and late twenties, so it is true to say that we grew up with our children. We bought books to guide us and consulted with others and each other every step of the way. We believed that if you bring up your children in the right way, they will not deviate from your teachings as adults. So we prioritised love, discipline, support, nurturing and all that goes with it to build the foundations of tolerance, respect, morality and Christianity in our children.

Our children were our friends. We spoke to them and spent time with them. On cold or rainy days, Sol would play indoor games with the children that taught them values such as respect, discipline, honesty and sharing. We encouraged them to ask questions and tried our best to answer them honestly. And we tried to set a good example. Sol and I were very much in love. “I love you” was a common expression in our home. That love rubbed off on our children, who to this day are not scared to express their emotions. Love and honesty develop trust, and I could never attach a value to trust, both giving and receiving it. It was my husband’s trust in me that gave me the confidence to grow and be successful, and to learn to trust others. There is no greater tool for personal development.