It was a warm Sunday afternoon, in the clear skies of the South African winter, May 30th, 1993, when she felt it run down her leg, her long-awaited baby boy had finally decided that he was ready to see the world.
She rushed to the bathroom, signaling her mother, “call the ambulance mom, its time”. A few hours and pushes later, screaming from the top of his lungs, the healthy baby boy makes his appearance.
Back home, two young girls, Lindiwe (12) and Amahle (10), eagerly waiting for their mother’s return to see their baby brother. Unlike most older siblings of her age, Amahle had mixed feelings about her brother’s arrival. She did not want to have a younger brother nor sister. In her young mind, she had gotten so used to the idea of her as the baby of the family, with her parent’s and Lindiwe’s full attention on her and only her. Full of tricks up her sleeve, she patiently sat next to her sister, pondering about the new addition to her family.
It was almost midnight when their mother finally arrived. In her arms, a peaceful baby boy laid. “What’s his name…”, asked Lindiwe, “his name is Robert”, interrupted Amahle “yes, Robert, just like the man in the cartoon”, they both laughed. “His name is Kaya”, whispered mother, carefully observing every inch of her new baby’s face. “Kaya” they simultaneously repeated as they watched him open his eyes for the first time.