That hiss of the wind in trees rippling white-sided.
My uncle's son-in-law drove him to a nursing home to die. A black woman in a uniform came out.
"Bloody hell," my uncle said. "What tribe are you?"
Oh, no, please, my uncle's son-in-law thought.
"Matabele," the woman said, and as she guided and supported my uncle lifting himself out of the back of the car in to his wheelchair my uncle and the woman started to have a conversation together with each other in Swahili. My uncle had done some of his National Service in Kenya and said he had learned to speak some Swahili there.