She realised that it was the custom for men to reach out and touch the unmarried bodies of girls and young women. Every day she witnessed a hand brushing a chest, pinching a bottom and sometimes even raising a skirt, and every day she witnessed the shy giggle that responded to the touch. She had never found a shy giggle within herself with which to respond to unwanted touch. She knew that, were it not for her taken-for-granted pretty face, every swat of a man’s hand would have been responded to with some denigration of her looks – the best weapon the men in the village had for putting women in their place.

But Dikeledi had known that her mother’s beauty could only protect her for so long, and as soon as she could demand it, she had taken to dressing in boys’ school uniforms and making sure that all those soft places that dresses, blouses and skirts made accessible to prying hands were well covered and truly protected by sensible trousers, shorts and shirts with formidable pockets over her chest. The only time she wore a dress was when she put on her school uniform to go to the nearby government school, which strictly forbade her from wearing the boys’ uniform to school.

Dikeledi absolutely adored boys’ and men’s uniforms, and had done so ever since she had seen Constable Spokes Moloi in his crisp, starched BSAP uniform with the shiny brass buttons step out of the Idlazonke General Goods and Bottle Store to deliver the news that her mother was dead. Whatever she was going to do with her life as an adult, Dikeledi knew that it would involve wearing a uniform – a man’s uniform.

For the longest time, Dikeledi’s mind and body were in perfect harmony. During puberty, her body refused to blossom into soft curves of voluptuousness – her chest stayed flat and her hips narrow. Dikeledi had been happy with this turn of events; the village less so. Because of her beauty, the entire village had anticipated an easy marriage for her and had thus relaxed. But now it began to perceive that there might be a problem where Dikeledi was concerned. There was a whisper that began to be heard throughout the village: ‘She may have her mother’s face, but she has her father’s body and ways.’