It was past six. I knew so not because six is the only number on the clock I memorised, but because I heard the groan of my dad’s aged Corsa forcing its way into the yard. I saw the burgundy flicker of headlights from the yard. Put two and two together. It was definitely six.

My aunt, Naledi had been nagging me to do my homework several times and 6’oclock was about the time I agreed. I opened my storybook and English exercise book. The questions were based on the storybook beside it.

She came closer to see what the homework was or maybe to check if I was doing it correctly. I swatted her away because that day I knew what the homework was. I didn’t need her help anymore I could finish the homework by myself!

I could show my parents what a big girl I was. I quickly grabbed the pencil from my bag and scribbled it on my book. I ran my hands through the magnificent writing on my book. I had done my own homework without additional assistance.

I ran to my mom and before she could ask, I told her the gospel of the day.

“Mama, I did my homework. Yes me, I did it on my own mama.” I declared, leaping up to the ceiling and down.

“Of course, you did princess.” she evaded my hyper performance “Now get out of my way. Mama needs to care for the pots, so the food doesn’t burn.”

I smirked to myself, anticipating the ticks from answer one till the last. I anticipated the affirming sticker plastered on my book. I could vividly see the admiration extending from my friends to my classmates. I could see the beginning of a successful academic year. Stories were the thing that opened up a vision of a thrilling journey.

The morning of the next day felt different. I arose with the dare to see the day through. I applied toothpaste gently. I even watched over the water, so it didn’t fill up.