Tau Kelvin

Tau Kelvin Creative Writer ✍️🏾 | Music Producer | Storeman

📖 ISINEKE – 80% Done

28/08/2025

Akula marriage crisis ekhona these days, yikuthi nje abantu abasekho desperate to pair up njengakudala.

Abantu benza angani the fact that people used to pair up more, and earlier, and stay together was automatically a good thing.

Kudala kwakunjalo ngoba abafazi, economically, babesiba dependent on amadoda, and in general, abantu babesiba more worried about social pressure to stay together.

Nowadays, abafazi lamadoda, are expected to support themselves i-social pressure ayisaqakathekanga kangako, so people are less willing to settle entweni e-wrong. And that's ultimately a good thing.

Abasekho banengi abafazi aba-settler into marriages just to have shelter and lamadoda awasekho manengi athathayo just because it's expected of them.

Abantu benza angani it's a crisis ngoba bacabanga ukuthi people should be dating at the same rate they were before, but abakucabangi ukuthi maybe akukho bad and there's more to life than relationships.
..

Tau Kelvin

12/08/2025

Stop checking your ex's life on Facebook, one day you will receive a top fan badge

07/08/2025

She called me the next morning and asked, “Tau, awuzange ungitshele nge ex yakho yasesiTongeni. Yindaba?”

This was 2021. She had read one of my essays on Facebook. Khonapho ngangivele ngi-worried ukuthi I had overshared.

Vele ngasengilokwesaba ukuthi okuyi-habit kwami lokhu—okokubeka impilo yami out there in public—kuzangiphendukela one day, kungilume phansi konyawo. Or maybe kuzangi costa something engingasoke ngi-afford' ukuyi loser.

But on the other hand, ngasengikhathele ukwesaba.


Thing is, life becomes a fight, from the moment sizalwa.

We fight to eat. We fight to stand. We fight to control our bodies. Then one day, singafunda ukuphaphama ebusuku siye e-toilet singavuswanga. Abadala basiqakezela izandla for ukuvuka singamanzisanga ingubo. And that becomes our first win. It becomes the first of many small joys. But ngokuya kwesikhathi, those joys fade. Antshintshe abe ngama-disappointments. Ama-hopes ethu ephelele emoyeni. Besesiwadinga ngendlela, as we rush toward ukufa kwethu.

We fight to belong. We fight to be noticed. We fight the bullies esikolo. We fight girls who won’t hug us back. And we fight ama inner voices asinyenyezela ukuthi, “You’re not enough.”

“Angisoze ngimbambe,” Nothando said once, while siku-school leavers party yabo-Grade 7. Abangane bakhe babemile in line, besikhangele behleka, yena izandla zakhe zifrizile, in mid-air, like I was contagious. We danced together, but kwakungathi singama-actors a-pretender ukuthandana. Angizange ngakukhohlwa khonokhu.

Then we grow up. Besesicabanga ukuthi, “khathesi sengi-ready.”

But khathesi sesi-fighter ama-bosses, ama-managers, fake friends and bad clients.

Imiqondo yethu sesayigqokisa okunye okungama-polite phrases esicabanga ukuthi yikho okuzasilethela imali. And we make speeches that are full of dreams and confidence, then we swallow our own words when none of it works out.

Esinye isihlobo sami sathi, "awuphiwanga", or something like that, ama-words akhe angisawakhumbuli kahle, but in that moment, wayesiba honest about ukubukeka kwami. Kahle-kahle, ngifisa ngabe silakho okuyi-AI app esengingakusebenzisa uku-searcher every memory, kuma-archives awempilo yami, ngithole every memory yalapho okukhulunywa khona ngokubukeka kobuso bami.

Ngiyabe ngifuna nje uku-scroller through the decades, bleeding out all the poison.

But still—siyesaba. Ngoba, all this fighting costs money. So, sonke sesibanga imali. Eye-rent. Eye-transport. Eyama-data bundles. Nxa sesiyifunile sibili? Angcono siqambe amanga. Angcono siboleke. Angcono sintshontshe. Angcono silambe. Sikhala ngenxa yayo. And sihlala sisaba ukuthi ayikwani.

I’m tired of fighting. People. Lovers. Brothers. Clients. Collaborators. Strangers. Ngibakhangela through a cracked mirror. One minute they’re beautiful, the next they’re chaos wrapped in skin.

Ngikhathele uku-pretender. Ngikhathele ukwenza angani I’m okay with this race. Ukuhlala ngigijimisa i-validation, ama-dreams engingawa-afford'iyo, uthando olungangifoneli back. I’m just tired.


In 2006 I’d walk with my friend Taz, in between our studio sessions. Life was quiet. We didn’t have much. But we’d still cook the wildest beats—they felt like trouble and healing at the same time. Sasibenzisa uFruityLoops 3, and some cheap headphones, ngapha sitshuna ngama-stock plugins kuphela. We thought our beats were sure to bang. So we pushed them.

And we’d get clients, off our grid, and so, we'd walk alk through amakasi ahlukeneyo on our to the client. Along the way, kwamanye amalokitshi, sasibona abomalume abanatha bephikisana emagrosa. Sidlule emaflethini, with music always in the air. But zazikhona futhi ezinye izindawo esasifika kizo, ezazithule and zikhanya zingaqedakali. "Mina sengingaziphilela kahle la,” I'd say. “Lapha ngiyabe ngizicatshele kahle. Vele ngi-disappear totally. Kungabi lomuntu okwazi ukuthi ngake ngaba khona.”

But, of course, akuvumi. Not khathesi. Sengilama-dreams. Sengicabanga ama-rent. Umamami. Umfanami. Ama-plans ami. Even if nginga-driller i-tunnel ehamba straight through the center of the Earth, ngingene ngihambe ngize ngiyethutshela e-New York, it wouldn’t matter. Ngizabe ngilokhe ngiyimi. Ngilokhe ngisaba abantu engilabo around me. Ngilokhe ngi-struggler uku-translator ama
-languages engikhule ekhulunywa around me my whole life.

I’m just really tired of the constant fight.

We were so alive sisakhula. The future felt infinite. Like we had endless time, endless passion, endless versions of ourselves waiting to bloom. But then, from nowhere, impilo yaqala nje ukuvuza. And eventually, i-potential yethu yantshintsha yaba ngama-anxieties ethu. i-Magic yethu yantshintsha yaba ngama-memories. And our lovers became strangers.
...

This is an excerpt from, "Ukwesaba Kuyabulaleka".

It's a good read.

Kahle-kahle, yi-idea eyangifikela ngesikhathi nginanzelela ukuthi I'm now in the season of running toward my grave. So, while I'm dripping what’s left of my old light…

Sengikhona ngiqala ukufunda ezinye izinto ezi-rare, and ezidinga ukubekwa kahle, in a proper book.

And, that book is 75% done now, ngoba khathesi angisasabi. Sengafunda ukuthi:

None of the things I worried about, ever mattered the way I thought they did.

Freedom has no color.

Joy is quiet.

And, that the fight can end.

And when it does, uthando lalo lungahlala, ukuthula kudonsa isitulo,
you will almost get scared again—
because peace, this deep, still feels unfamiliar.

---

Tau Kelvin

Danko for reading 📚 ♥️
Please Like, Follow and Share 🙏🏾

30/07/2025

Inja yang'khaya, 12-year-old Tiger, passed away when I was 6 years old.

Ngangimthanda uTiger, even the day after he died, my 6-year-old soul was still painfully crying — ngavuvuka amehlo, i-voice yami yaphela, but ngangilokhe ngifuna ukukhuluma — about how much I missed him. Even isithunzi sami sasesingasangichazi without esikaTiger eceleni kwami.

Umamami wathi kimi, uTiger usesendleleni yokuya ezulwini, uzabe eloNkulunkulu.

I asked her ukuthi kanti uNkulunkulu sesingam'bhalela incwadi yini, ngangifuna uNkulunkulu ahle abemazi uTiger efika.

She said we could, and mina ngibe ngimtshela ukuthi ebhaleni:

---

Dear God,

Uzangigcinela yini inja yami? Ifile izolo, isendleleni ibuya kuwe ezulwini. Ngiyamkhanuka kakhulu. Ngiyabonga ukuthi wamvumela ukuba yinja yami, even ecine esegula.

Ngicela ube udlala laye. Uthanda uku swimmer, ukudlala ibhola lokugijimisa inyonyi eziphapha zizokuma eduze. Sengikuthumela i photo yakhe mina ngime laye, ukuthi ubone ukuthi uTiger, uyinja yami sibili. Ngiyamkhanuka kakhulu.

Love, Taurayi

---

Umamami wafaka incwadi leyana phakathi kwe-envelope, konke le-picture yami ngiloTiger. Phambili wabhala ukuthi, “To God in Heaven”, wafaka i address yang'khaya on the corner.

Nganamathisela ama-stamp amanengi kiyo — maybe abamanengi kakhulu vele — because heaven felt far, and ngangingafuni ukuthi incwadi yami icine isilahlekile somewhere in the sky.

That afternoon, uMamami wahamba lami koChigumira, and we dropped the envelope into the old red mailbox, eyayihlala phandle kweLuveve Post Office. I remember how serious I felt, angani ngenza something sacred.

A few days later, I asked ukuthi uNkulunkulu useyitholile yini incwadi.

Umama wangikhangela, with eyes that seemed to shine and said she believed ukuthi Useyitholile.

Wadlula uAugust.

Then one quiet morning, sathola okuyi-package, kuhlezi phakathi eyadini — akula muntu owaqoqodayo, akula mavili awebhayisili, awomdududu or awemota, ayedindile ukuthi kukhanye ukuthi ifike njani ng'khaya, no. It was just there.

It was addressed to "Taurayi", but yayibhalwe nge-handwriting esingazange saba yazi ukuthi ngekabani.

I opened it slowly.

Phakathi kwakulebhuku, one by Mr. Rogers, titled, When a Pet Dies.

Phakathi kwe-cover, kwakunamathiselwe incwadi esasiyithumele uNkulunkulu, ilokhe iphakathi kwe-envelope yayo.

On the opposite page, kwakule-photo yami ngiloTiger, lencwadi eyayibhalelwe ephepheni eli-soft, eli-glowayo:

---

Dear Taurayi,

uTiger wafika kahle ezulwini. Isithombe owangithumela sona sanceda kakhulu, ngahle ngabamazi sengimbona.

uTiger akasaguli. Ugijima kakhulu khathesi, njalo umoya wakhe ukimi — kufanana nje ngendlela ahlala ngayo enhliziyweni yakho. Wayekuthanda ukuba yinja yakho.

Ngenxa yokuthi ngapha ezulwini asila zikhwama zokugcinela okunengi, angisoke ngigcine isithombe sakho, ngisithumela kuwe sisebhukwini leli ukuthi wena usigcine, umkhumbule.

Ngibonga incwadi yakho elothando, njalo umbonge umama wakho ukuthi ukuncedisile ukuyibhala, lokuyithumela. Umama wakho ngumuntu o-special kakhulu. Ngakukhethela yena ngikwazi.

Ngikuthumela izibusiso 'nsuku zonke, njalo ngifuna uhlale ukwazi ukuthi ngikuthanda kakhulu.

Njalo, nxa ungidinga, kulula ukungithola — ngitholakala noma kungaphi okulothando khona.

Love, God

---

And that book? When a Pet Dies — yilo ibhuku engaqala ukulibala.

Or rather, the first one that was read to me… nge-soft voice kamamami, in that whole quiet after grief.

Now that I'm older, the more ngicabanga about the whole thing, the more nginanzelela ukuthi there are three things in life that are most important:

The first, is to be kind.

The second is, be kind.

And the third, always be kind.

Kindness saves lives.
..

What's your story about the first book you read?
..

Tau Kelvin

18/07/2025

At 29, my girlfriend of almost 4 years was killed in a terrible accident, just 4 houses away from her home.

Again, I didn’t plan to talk about her today.

But ukhona umuntu o poste something about ama-sunsets, and suddenly I saw her, esemile futhi ngemva kwengqondo yami, in the soft space between memory and muscle.

But angisamcabangi ngendlela engizwisisa ubuhlungu khathesi, but, sengimkhumbula in a way that reminds me ukuthi: she existed.

She was real.

And for a long while, she was my everything.

There was a future we were building and I had been known for a while at her home, as her future husband.

Wayebhujelwe ngabazali. Wayehlala losisi wakhe, umkasisi wakhe, and their 2 little girls.

So I was shattered as I went through all the obligatory motions following ukusitshiya kwakhe — ukwazisa abangane lezihlobo, ama-arrangements awokubekwa kwakhe, le service…

And bonke abantu, around me, bangitshela ama obligatory responses lama-condolences.

I was grateful for, what I’m sure, ngama-heartfelt thoughts, but they did little to ease my grief, or touch me.

Some remarks, not intentionally, were even hurtful —

“Uselapho okungcono khona.”

"Kuyintando kaNkukunkulu, kwamkele, UNkulunkulu nguye okwaziyo”

Texts like:

“She wouldn’t want you to be sad.”

“It will get better with time.”

It's not like angi-understand… they are all kind. But, bonke, they did not understand the magnitude, and depth, of what I was experiencing.

And of course, the line I received a lot, and again, this is very kind and I’m sure sincere, was the text — “If there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”

Let you know? I was in no condition yokuntshintsha even i-globe lingatsha endlini, or ngihambe ngizeyephutsha through a grocery store without being swept away in a torrent of grief at the sight of her favorite chocolate.

Oh, and there are 2 other things I was told that had profound significance...

The other is — ask me to talk about her.

Wonke umuntu ucabanga ukuthi, no singakhulumi ngaye, kuzamzwisa ubuhlungu — and laphana it's either umuntu ucabanga eyami i comfort, or more often, ukhangele elakhe i side.

The truth is, I have such an overwhelming need to feel her presence, through just ukuxoxa ngaye.

But just mentioning her name would silence a room.

Actually, people who invited me to talk about her brought me such relief and joy.

Yes, sometimes kwakungikhalisa, sometimes ngangihleka — but it always felt wonderful to have a moment where I didn’t have to deny that part of my life.

Even a decade later, lokhe kuliqiniso khonokhu.

The other great thing, engayitshelwa ngomunye, which has been proven to be essential — BREATHE!

Grief is trauma. It’s living perpetually in your fight or flight response. When you breathe — three slow, deep breaths — it takes you out of that state. The wave of sadness can pass, you can be ok.

Ku simple, but incredibly effective. I owe a lot to breathing.

So here is where the best, kindest, most truly empathetic response comes in… one person, a friend of hers, came to me and, without any prompting, stated — I will be at your house, every Monday at 9am. Have a list of whatever you need done, and I will take care of it.

I still cry, a decade later, remembering that. It was such a gift — it demonstrated, through action, how much she had loved my girlfriend, how she understood how overwhelmed I was, and practically, how much I would be needing real help.

She didn’t wait to be asked. She was there every week, until I let her know I would be ok.

My gratitude to her endures forever.

So, though I lost touch with her, a few years ago I did some searching and found her, now living in another city.

She had stepped forward with sensitivity and generosity when I was so in need.

It felt important to me to let her know, first of all, how impactful and meaningful her support was to me following my girlfriend’s death — for I had never really told her.

When I contacted her and told her, she was amazed. She said it was just a simple act of paying it forward, for all the kindnesses my girlfriend had shown her.

And then she also told me that receiving my unexpected message, and reading it, actually helped pull her out of the funk she was currently experiencing in her own life.

It’s like it’s all come full circle.

Please, be careful with words!

But if you truly want to help someone grieving — don’t just say it... show up.
..

Tau Kelvin

17/07/2025

A few years ago, I went to a family gathering ng'khaya. It was one of those you just can’t say no to.

There was food. Lotshwala. People sat around, omama benabile, bethandele intsaro zabo, obaba behlezi mostly on ama plastic chairs.

Umam' omncane wami wayekhona. She leaned over at some point, tilted her head toward omunye usisi owayehlezi yedwa duze lesihlahla sompintshisi.

“Usayikhumbula i classmate yakho,” watsho uMam' omncane. “Yazi ubone okunengi empilweni usisi lo.”

I looked again. Ngamkhumbula. Ngabona amakhala akhe elokhe engantshintshanga. But wayesephela umzimba, and her eyes had now sat deep in her face, angani she’d seen things no one should see.

She smiled, but not kimi — just into the space between us, and ukukubobotheka kwakhe kwakungathi it's just a thing her face did on its own.

My eyes stung.

She was eighteen when she got married.

Wathathwa yindoda e rough. His was fifteen years older. Had a rough face, and even rougher hands.

Akuzange kwamthathela even inyanga eyodwa ukuthi akubone ukuthi indoda emthetheyo yindoda enatha angathi his life depends on it.

He’d drink, abengumuntu o violent. Sometimes ngenqindi, sometimes edobhe noma yini eseduze — bhanti, stulo, and later on wazobuya lemvubu.

“Hamba kumam'akho,” he’d say. “Ubuye lemali.”

She’d refuse.

Ihwatshwe imvubu. Futhi.

She told her mother. Umam'akhe wathi,

“Bonke abafazi badlula kikho. Umendo uyabekezelwa.”

I imagine her hearing that and knowing the difference between “patience” and “perishing”.

Umamazala wakhe waye worse. She used to eat twice, the whole day. Nxa ukudla kukuncane, it was always her fault.

There was washing, scrubbing, stooping, hands in soap water until her fingers turned pale.

Wazithwala.

That family said, “Bafuna umntwana ongumfana.”

It was a girl.

Indoda yakhe yamtshaya the same day yokubelethwa komntwana wabo. He didn’t wait. She held the baby, wazihlikihla igazi ebusweni bakhe yedwa, waphuma.

She told me she thought of the river that night. Thought of walking into it, just to see how deep it was.

But wayengami ukukhala. Wakhangela umntwana ebusweni, wabona umlomo omncane oyi pink, wacabanga, “Ithi ngizame kusasa kodwa.” So, she didn’t go to the river.

She went to an older sister.

After that, she started working ezindlini. She washed clothes, washed plates, washed anything they gave her for five, six hours. She got 5 to ten bucks a day for that.

That’s how she survived — $5, sometimes $10 a day. It was just enough for the two of them.

Then iqolo lakhe lakhalala. Couldn’t stand straight anymore. She stopped taking house jobs.

Then came umsebenzi wase toy factory. She packed plastic toys, little dolls that she could never afford for her own daughter. That irony was never lost on her.

Then wathola umsebenzi emakete. Owokuthengisa amaplastiki. Ehola $150.

She said,

“UNkulunkulu usiza ozamayo.”

I met umntanakhe oyinkazana. She’s grown tall. She aced 9 subjects in her ordinary levels. Ufuna ukuba ngudokotela. She said it the way someone says, “I want to save lives, because someone once saved mine.”

My classmate didn’t have a plan when she left that house. Just a baby and two gold earrings. But she kept moving.

Thanks for reading.
..

Tau Kelvin

15/07/2025

In my early twenties, ngangicabanga ukuthi I'm doing everything right.

I worked hard and ignored distractions, ngizama ukulungiselela elakusasa lami. While some of my friends were out chilling, traveling, or just taking things slow, I was building. Learning skills, ngithatha ama freelance jobs, trying to be “future-ready.” Ngizitshela ukuthi ngingaqinisela khathesi, impilo izangibhadala later.

Now I’m 39. And guess what?

I’m back at zero. Ngiqala phansi. Rebuilding.

Meanwhile, some of abantu labana engangibakhangela ngibone angathi they are just cruising through life? Baziphilele kahle khathesi. Married, good careers, maybe even expecting their first grandchild. Impilo zabo zikhangeleka zi… stable. Settled.

Sometimes kungitshaya inhliziyo.

Not in a jealous way, but in that quiet, “How tha f*ck?” kind of way.

Kanti vele kwenzakala njani ukuthi I'm the one who tried so hard, but yibo asebekhanya angathi they have it all figured out?

Ngangicabanga ukuthi I was way ahead.

Ungaqala ukuziphandela early, uyabe usukhangelele ukuthi things will fall into place sooner.

And for a while, it felt like they would. I ticked wonke ama box ami: productive, consistent, always thinking five steps ahead. Ngilama sacrifices amanengi engawenzayo — ukulala, isikhathi labangane, even moments I should’ve just enjoyed but didn’t, because I was too focused on “the plan.”

But impilo ayilandeli manual. Sometimes, izinto ziyenzeka nje, ungene iganga.

iCareer iyantshintsha indlela. iBurnout ikutshaye. Or maybe you just realize ukuthi lokhu akusakusebenzeli anymore.

Yikho okwayenzakala kimi.

Suddenly, the things I spent years building felt like they didn’t belong in my life anymore. And that was terrifying. Ngoba, ukuqala phansi khona vele kunzima, but ukuqala phansi after you’ve already tried your best? That’s something else totally. Kuhlukene. It cuts deeper.

So the comparison hits.

And it’s hard not to notice.

Abantu engibaziyo baqala uku posta ama lobola day photos, job promotions, izindlu ezintsha, labantwana. I'm genuinely happy for them. But deep down, kukhona okuyi-voice phakathi kwami okuthi:

“Wait… kanti ayisuwe owawusenza izinto ngendlela eqondileyo? Kanti ayisuwe owawulala ungalele, usebenza emini lebusuku while they were ‘just figuring things out’? So how come nguwe osuqala phansi khathesi?”

It feels unfair.

But the more ngicabanga ngakho, the more nginanzelela ukuthi:

Maybe life was never a race.
Maybe salandela indlela ezihlukeneyo kuphela, and some roads need more time.

Into esengiyifunde the hard way…

No one actually has it all figured out.

Abanye abantu just have better timing. Abanye bathola i support. Some took longer but khathesi they’re thriving. And abanye baphakathi kwe chaos, abakhulumi ngakho nje.

Also: abantu bakhula in different seasons. Akula “too late” when it comes to ukuba ngumuntu okumele ube nguye.

Ngangicabanga ukuthi because ngaqala strong, kutsho ukuthi I deserve to finish early. But khathesi sengikukhangela differently.

Starting strong is good. But ukuphinda uqale, after yonke into — it builds something deeper. Resilience. Clarity. A better connection with what actually matters.

A new way to look at it….

Maybe angehlulekanga. Maybe impilo yayifuna ukungiphaphamisa nje. To rebuild something that fits me better, with more honesty, more freedom, more intention.

So khathesi lokhe ngisebenza nzima. But not because ngesaba ukulandela emuva. Ngikwenza ngoba I trust ukuthi okuvele kungokwami vele kusendleleni yokuza kimi.

And kuzafika on time.

I no longer chase timelines set by others. I want to build on my own terms, trusting that what’s meant for me will come when it’s supposed to.

Impilo i weird njalo. No matter how much you plan, hustle, or stress, impilo ayilandeli logic, or fairness.

But that’s just part of being human.

We can’t control the timing, and we can’t control other people’s journeys. Thina esingakwenza yikuqhubeka, ukuba sifunda, and to keep trusting that our own path will come together — even if it’s slower, messier, or less predictable than we imagined.

I am not late.

I am just human.

And kushap.

I'll keep building, keep trusting, and speaking it like it’s already real. Because it is.

---

Tau Kelvin

14/07/2025

Ngike ngaba ngulova okwesikhathi eside. I remember ama days ngihayisa ibhara yang'khaya. It wasn’t because ngangifuna, but yimpilo eyakwenza kwaba necessary.

Ibhara leyana yathwala iztori ezinengi. Abanye babengifakela okuncane ngingabathwalisa maybe izamende zabo, izitina, ukhethe or anything nje, even ama grocery or umqhuba wezingadi.

Some days, ngangithola ama R10 awokuya esigayweni, ngibuye ngimhlophe nke, sengigcwele uthuli lwempuphu.

Nxa ibhara izihlalele, yifotsholo edlala i front — it's either ngiyagebha, ngi-clear ama rubble, cleaning ama yard. Noma yini, i-job yi-job.

There was one family I never skipped, though most boys refused to take their jobs.

“Umdala ukhipha nzima,” they’d grumble.

But mina ngangifika. Every time.

Their house leaned tired ekhoneni lasekasi lami, it looked like even the walls wanted to leave.

But i yard yayihlala ithanyeliwe. Always clean. Controlled. Like they still had pride where poverty wanted shame.

The father was injured. Wayengasasebenzi.

But he was always there, bedlala intsoro or ibhola lomphepha, with his 9-year-old son.

Nxa sekumele angibhadale, wayeqhubela umntanakhe imali. Emtshele ukuthi angiphe malini, emtshele ukuthi angiqhubele njani, emtshele lokuthi ethini kimi.

The boy would pay me grinning, eziqhenya, like he was the man of the house — ngoba ngesikhathi sona leso, he was.

That father didn’t have much. Sasimbiza insweli.

But wayekhulisa umfana okwazi inhlonipho, ukulalela, le maths.

Poor in wallet, rich in lessons.

Izikhwama zakhe zazibhobokile, but not ubuntu bakhe.

Ngoba abanye abazali abalakho okunengi,

but they still sweep the yard, and they still play with their kids. Even though singakuboni, they are raising some wealth we can’t measure.

---

Tau Kelvin

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