The term "Nguni" was used by my family as a secret code to signal safety. The genesis of this code was the growing incidence of child abductions in our community in South Africa, necessitating the verification of trustworthy individuals. When someone other than our parents were tasked with picking us up from school, they had to use the code word "Nguni" before we would trust them.

My father was particularly fond of Nguni culture, which comprises the Xhosa, Zulu, Ndebele, and Swazi people, and he took pride in breeding 100 cattle from the indigenous Nguni breed.  As children, we were involved in the herding of these hardy, patterned, and multicoloured creatures between our neighbours’ farms. This was a physically demanding yet thrilling experience.

During a particularly rainy night, the cattle were in danger of standing in water that would result in soft painful bleeding hooves on the road. Our task was to prevent this from happening by chasing the giant beasts from cooling themselves in puddles. The beauty of their painted hides left an indelible mark on my psyche as the mirage of mustangs migrated before me. Because of my low stature as a child, the undulating spots metamorphised into a singular entity accompanied by a cacophony of guttural groans. I now associate their dappled texture with my freedom in the wilderness, and is always evoked as I express my adoration for the rugged beauty of my homeland. This series of calloused and crusted vessels harken back to the safety I find in both the word “Nguni” and the animals themselves.