South Africa

Dusk meandered. A dusty violet blanket over the rolling hills of the Transeki. Four pale skinned rag dolls bounced over a winding single lane track, headlights probing with an urgency that seemed to grow as each bend led them deeper into the mountains. Of a sudden, three figures dashed from the grass, arms flailing in such a manner as only the arms of a barefoot child running at full tilt down a hill can flail. A mother followed. Proud. Her white teeth flashed. Welcoming. This was her land. A world away from the polished floors and sparkling toilet bowls of the city where she was known to...