She was named Naledi even before her parents met her. In the village they could only guess that she was to be a baby girl because her mother craved samp and amasi. Her mother’s feet faced the entrance of the hut letting the light from Venus bathe Naledi’s head on her way into the world. When the witch doctor held her aloof and announced her arrival to the work the crescent moon sat atop her bobbing head.
She was a little baby, cute as any other little baby, but cute in a way that made her memorable. Her little eyes shone with the greyness of a new-born, totally unseeing, only recognising the light forcing her pupil open and squeezing its self down her optic nerve. She mewled, the cold of the world hugged her hello. The smoke that had held the room captive a few moments ago mysterious abandoned its perch and freed the room.
This was the welcome our heroine received.