April 25

Elizabeth is not happy.  Elizabeth wants to go to church, but cannot because of the lockdown.

'This government,' she laments. 'Even Mugabe let us go to church.'

I try for the umpteenth time to explain the reason for the lockdown.

'Ah, madam, you don't really believe it, do you?  They are saying someone can cough on you and then you die.  I don't believe it.  People often have colds and they don't die.'

I don't really know how to reply because, to be honest, we haven't had infection figures anywhere near suggestive of a pandemic.  Could it be that the climate, the lack of pollution and a younger population than Europe has meant that this virus will not take off in the same way in Africa that it has in countries such as Spain and Italy?  On the other hand, we could just be lagging behind.  Winter is still to come and maybe we will see a sudden surge in cases.  It's hard to know, but it's best to keep safe.

Elizabeth glares at me crossly as though I personally have given orders for the lockdown.  Her other grievance is that my dad is sweeping up leaves on the drive.  Khulu, as she refers to him, should be sitting on his throne, waited on hand and foot.  I have tried to explain to her that my dad needs something to do and he needs to feel useful.  He cannot spend the whole day sitting in his chair.  Last week she berated me because she said my dad needs a bigger mug for his tea. Why he can't have one the same size as the rest of us is not clear, except that he is Khulu and, being Khulu, he must have a bigger mug.

Dad speaks to Elizabeth in chilapalapa.  When he worked on the mines in South Africa in the late 1960s, he learnt to speak Fanagalo which is a mixture of Zulu, English and Afrikaans and chilapalapa is very similar  It is now largely not considered politically correct to speak it, but I don't think either Elizabeth or my dad is aware of that and, as it provides an opportunity for them to chat and have a laugh, I really don't see that it is a problem. When Eunice comes to work - she hasn't been for six weeks - she, Elizabeth and my dad have long conversations that usually end in shrieks of laughter.  What can be bad about that?