You have on various occasions challenged me on why I work so hard, yet I don't have a boss. I remember showing Dalitso the photo of our board chair and she said ah that's Uncle Bheki, that can't be your boss. At times I have said Mummy is my boss, but Ruby has always dismissed that by saying she is your wife. So, who is my boss?

I am writing during what may be called “bed rest”. I am tired. I'm not sure if it's physical fatigue but it may just be mental fatigue (but not soliciting sympathy). I am in this situation because of the poor choices that I have made in recent months. You see I have increased the portfolio of work that I do. Officially I work for SIVIO Institute on a full-time basis. That alone is fulfilling and requires more than eight hours per day. I do it without complaining. It's a calling. At the beginning of the year, I said to my colleagues let's do less but effectively. It sounded good. But literally by the end of January, I had increased my portfolio of work by embarking on an audacious long-term resilience project by investing in an agri-business. As you already know I am a hands-on person. So, I have added a new set of responsibilities (meetings, budgeting, planning, and travel) to an already busy schedule. I assumed that I would slow down on commissioned work- but we (family and the Institute) need the extra income. So, I have been busy with commissioned work. As you grow there are no excuses for lack of delivery on commissioned work. It’s been extreme, and that’s perhaps why I have not been writing you letters lately.

Chakanaka chakakana mukaka haurungwe! (that which is beautiful does not need tampering with)

Yesterday you made me so proud. That performance. That confidence. Wow! I had never seen you in your element like that. You did us proud.

Today I met up with an old colleague. My mentor in the struggle. You see there was Prof Sam (a post for another day) and there was Mercia Andrews. A struggle stalwart. There are many movements in our region, the liberation movement, the trade union movement, the women's movement, and many others. Mercia has at some point been active in all these movements.

Dear Dali

I have a story to share with you. It’s about strawberries and more.

I walked into the greenhouse with the intention of issuing the instruction to pull it down. Then I looked at the beds of the neglected strawberry seedlings on the edges of the greenhouse. My instinct says- what if we grow strawberries in the greenhouse? I called the Assistant (Ba Simba) and gave him the instructions to transplant. Blank look- he is confused.  I had to demonstrate what I was on about. We prepare the beds. I lead in planting a few. Then I plant some more. We have 150 plants in one row.  At this stage, my family follows to see what’s going on. I have been gone for too long. They find me kneeling, planting in overalls. It’s a photo moment. Camera. Action. We finish planting on day 4. Then we water and wait.

It’s been a while since I gathered the courage to write anything meaningful here. What can I say life happens. We lost a dear friend, your godmother. One wonders why bad things happen to good people. All I heard in the eulogies about my departed friend was that she was a good wife, a good mum, a good Christian, a philanthropist, etc. I can personally attest to her philanthropy and that is the point of this piece. Happiness was a giver of her money, time, and compassion. She stood with me and your mum at a very difficult time when we could not have a child. Helped us in our prayers and then you were born. She always called you, her baby. I heard so much more from people who had interacted with Happi.