Is there life after chicken soup?
The writer supports The Hope Exchange, a group of people who provide food for the homeless in Cape Town. Please help them When I was a child, around 7, we lived next door to a large family in London. I liked to visit neighbours, anything to get away from my own family. There was something different about this family. Even at a young age, I could tell. One evening I tottered in and the woman next door was lighting candles with her hand over her eyes. She then started singing in a strange language. I rushed home to tell my ma. “It sounds magical,” my mother said. It turned out they wer...