Amala POV
“Jy praat Afrikaans?” he asks (“You speak Afrikaans?”)
“J-ja” I reply a little panicked (“Y-yes”)
“Kalmeer my kind, ek’s nie kwaad nie. Baie verbaas maar waar het jy dit geleer?” he asks inquisitively (“Calm down child, I’m not angry. Very surprised but where did you learn it?”)
“It’s the language of the slaves, we used it as a ‘secret’ language. I’m surprised a king knows it” I say relaxing a bit
“It was my mother’s native language. All those years ago it was a language spoken by a small civilization on a continent that doesn’t exist anymore. I haven’t heard it in centuries” he says an expression of melancholy on his face. I reach over placing my hand on his
“Pa kan enige tyd met my Afrikaans praat. Ek mis dit om net te kan gesels in my taal” I say soothingly making him sm
