Bred in the bone

The smell of simmering bone broth always takes Mogau Seshoene back to winter school holidays, spent with her grandparents and cousins in rural Limpopo

- Mogau Seshoene

Every winter school holiday of my childhood, my sister and I would be shipped off to my maternal grandparents' farm in the little village of Ga-Mphahlele, Limpopo. My mother would pack play clothes, church clothes, extra blankets and jerseys, toys, a few dry goods and groceries, and we'd load up the car. I never wondered whether our parents missed us since we were gone for so long, but as an adult I can understand the need for such a break!

We would be met by our excited cousins, all six of them.Our Kok o was always so happy to see her eight grandchildren and would bring us inside for a warm embrace. She was the softest, most loving person. Everyone says this about their grandma but, seriously, she was. My grandfather, Tate, was quite stern, an "I'm only telling you once" kind of person. Together, they ran a tight ship with a strict schedule, so our days were both loving and predictable, and everything had its place. I suppose they had all the practice needed after raising six children of their own!