My gogo is the oldest person I know. Her face has got lots of lines and crinkles that go even deeper when she smiles. And she smiles a lot. When she smiles you can sometimes see her bright white false teeth, but often you can just see her mouth because her false teeth are sometimes uncomfortable and she puts them in a cup of water. It is funny to see Gogo’s teeth sitting there next to her.

She is a very kind and loving person. My mother is often busy and stressed, and so gets cross quickly. But my gogo, she has time for me and my brother. She tells me long stories about when she was little. When we are frightened in the night she sings to us. And she makes two kinds of biscuits – the ones with condensed milk, which I like, and the other lemon-flavoured ones, because those are my brother’s favourites.

She is also very busy. She is part of a stokvel, and also sings in the church choir. She also used to sew but now her eyesight is getting bad and so she knits while she watches TV. “The devil finds work for idle hands,” she says, and her hands are never still. She is always doing something.

I love my gogo and she loves me. I know she is getting older, and she tells me that she is going to die soon. I don’t like it when she says that. But she will always live in my heart.