Rita was a large woman; shiny earrings dangled from her ears, purple eye make up stared out from under her brows and her high heels tramped noisily on the marble floor. She and her husband had been in the country for twenty-five years and owned an electrical shop in Orange Grove, central Johannesburg. Before talking about the business on hand, we talked or rather she reminisced about Britain and wanted to know how it looked, as she hadn't been back in years. After some minutes, the conversation moved to the present day situation: South Africa - its people, her worries and fears. I offset this by telling her how excited I was to be here, in the continent of my forefathers. I suddenly realised I said this without thinking when I saw the look on her face. But you're not African!' she exclaimed, 'You're British ' as I am!' It was said with some desperation and urgency. For that split second, images came flooding in my mind. Some years back when I was a student at Southgate Tech, on my way home there would be times I would have to wait for a bus either in the pouring rain, the cold weather or the hot sun. I'd meet little old ladies whose conversations would always begin about the erratic nature of the British weather ..............
