I realised with sadness that my dear brother, my hero, had changed during the past months. He had closed up and did not trust anybody anymore, not even me. He had found a group of older friends and was spending most of his spare time with them. He clearly did not want me hanging around with them. Mostly, they played soccer; some were smoking secretly. Still, I never gave up hope that we would be brothers again like in the old days.

Though Gogo was strict with everybody and did not allow any nonsense, even from her own daughter, she did her best to send all of us to school. On the Monday morning after I’d arrived, she said to me: ‘Don’t think you can sleep longer than the others, Mbu! I can’t buy you a uniform right now, but I know the principal of our primary school and I will ensure that you start there today.’ I felt a big smile grow on my face. I could continue to go to school!

‘Don’t smile at me!’ Gogo said, with a serious face. ‘If you are late getting to school or you don’t do your homework, I will beat you. Got it?’

I stopped smiling; but inside, I was still so happy. I knew I would never be late or miss even a single day of school. While Gogo was in the principal’s office, talking behind closed doors, I looked around Masizakhe Primary School. It was a well-developed school with many prefab buildings, and even a gym and a soccer field.

A short time later, an older learner escorted me to one of the buildings close to the soccer field. ‘Which grade are you?’ he asked me.

I gathered all my courage together and said: ‘Grade 1.’ He nodded and knocked at one of the classroom doors. ‘

Ngena – come in,’ a soft female voice said from inside. My escort opened the door, and I saw her for the first time – the best teacher ever in the whole world: Mrs Naki!

***

I am sure there must also be horrible teachers in this world. But Mrs Naki was an angel. She was about the same age as my mom, with beautiful eyes and full lips. Her cheeks were soft and when she spoke it sounded like gospel music. She wore her hair traditional style, braided with colourful beads.

I know it sounds funny coming from a seven-year-old boy, but it was love at first sight. Also from her side; I know that for sure. She never shouted at me. She took trouble to explain to me what I had missed in the first few months of Grade One, and she never called me stupid as Gogo did so many times.

I learnt to deal with Gogo because of Mrs Naki. Whenever I felt hurt by Gogo’s remarks or when she gave us a beating with her walking stick, I thought of Mrs Naki. I thought: you cannot break me, because I have her. You cannot make me stupid, because I learn everything from her.

Mrs Naki saw that many kids came hungry to school in Masizakhe. So she made us bread rolls, with small pieces of meat inside. We called them Hamburgers!

Some of the kids had parents with jobs. They had to buy the Hamburgers for R2 each. I volunteered to sell them during the long break. There was already a group of other learners doing this, but I became one of the best at it. One break time, I sold 57 Hamburgers in fifteen minutes – the school record was 51!

That day Mrs Naki asked me if I would like to come to her house for a home visit. I could not believe my luck. This was the way to heaven! But I was sure that Gogo would never allow it. As on so many other occasions, Mrs Naki seemed able to read my concerns.

‘Shall I phone your Gogo for permission?’ I nodded my head, and began to pray for a good outcome immediately. And the miracle happened. ‘She said it’s okay,’ Mrs Naki confirmed with a smile. ‘As long as you are home not later than six.’

Tell us what you think: What made Mrs Naki the best teacher ever? Do you know of a teacher like her?