Abstract
It was a cold and rainy day in the Cape and we ran together from the office to my car parked outside in the freezing and wet street. We both took a minute to get back our breaths after the frantic sprint for cover, wiping the cold rain from our faces, and then, just before I could turn the key to start the car, she said in her distinct Namaqualand Afrikaans voice wonder wat Bafana more gaan maak teen Frankryk. Ek hoop darem hulle wen, maar die Franse is 'n goeie span. (I wonder what the South African soccer team will do tomorrow against France. I hope they win, but France is a strong team). She is the cleaner in my office, a small and quiet Nama woman. I am her boss, a white Afrikaans male. She did not finish high school and I completed many years of tertiary education. I am almost twice her age and probably earning at least ten times her salary. There is a cultural, gender, ethnic, age and socio-economic gap as wide as the Fish River Canyon between us.
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