Holding Up the Sky by Sandy Blackburn-Wright Page A

afterwards find work. Steve had met him through a local technical college and, impressed with his dedication and focus, had offered him a role.
    In retrospect, we were incredibly fortunate to find two men of such high calibre to work with. Neither took on the roles for pure financial gain nor to claim the status that being employed offered. They were both selflessly committed to bringing about change in the area and worked tirelessly and with great maturity to do so. We were not so lucky with everyone who came to Sizwe.
    Over the next two weeks, Robbie and I spent many hours in the red bakkie driving around the townships, meeting principals, youth leaders, attending community meetings and generally introducing me to the Sizwe network. At that time, few people in townships owned cars so each person who did was known by their car. The whole community appeared to be very familiar with both the Sizwe vehicles, the red bakkie and the green and white kombi, so much so that they acted as a passport of sorts. Sizwe already had such a good reputation in the townships that we could drive anywhere in either vehicle and be greeted by people we met on the way. This was no small comfort as I was fully aware that strange white people in townships often drew unwanted attention, the assumption being that you were somehow connected to the security forces or government departments who were yet to meet people’s basic needs. Ironically, Sizwe’s positive reputation led people to believe that we were a much larger organisation than we actually were, and very soon we were struggling to keep up with the demand.
    I had arranged with Steve to take a little bit of time off in that induction period as my brother was planning to visit me on his way through to London. After those first two weeks, Jon few in and we headed off to explore the countryside. I’m told Jon and I look very alike, though he is still cross that I was dished up the blonde hair and blue eyes and he was given brown and hazel. At almost 183 centimetres, he is a good bit taller than me, but we share our family’s slim build and our mother’s smile.
    We began our journey in the nearby Drakensburg mountains which form a ring around Lesotho, the Mountain Kingdom, in the centre of South Africa. We spent two glorious days at the Drakensburg Sun Hotel hiking, riding and talking. Jon and I were born two-and-a-half years apart and though very different in temperament and goals we have always been close, especially in our teenage years and beyond. Jon, like my mother, is a natural peacemaker, often acting as a go-between in the battles of will between my father and I that marked my adolescence. He is also a little more reserved than I, slower to make friends but a generous and committed friend once the bond is formed. I remember on family holidays going out and making new friends in all directions on the first day and bringing them back to meet my brother. Jon also has Mum’s action orientation, giving him an efficiency in all he does and bringing him great success in life; he has the ability to do the work of two people in a single day without appearing to be stressed or overrun. But most of all, my brother is a listener and a kind-hearted man, and was therefore a great companion during our journey together. We hired a car which he named the Silver Streak, and spent many hours talking as we sped across the country.
    During our stay in the Drakensburg, we went for an all-day horse ride through the foothills of the majestic mountains. Our sturdy mounts had taken us from one breathtaking vista to the next all morning so when we were given a chance to let loose in an open field, we took it. (It is worth mentioning that I was an accident-prone child and that I was unable to cast this affliction aside as I grew older.) In the middle of our wild fight across the open plains, my horse put his leg down a pothole and we both came asunder. Both horse and rider were remarkably lucky