When the Classroom Ended, the Land Began to Teach
When you arrive at Thabana-Mokhele in Botha-Bothe in the late afternoon, the farm does not announce itself loudly. It unfolds gradually, green rows of vegetables, the steady movement of chickens and a quiet rhythm of work that seems to run on instinct rather than instruction. In the middle of it all is ‘Maatlehang Matjelo, moving…
