As a young boy, my favourite place to be was being carried on my nanny's back. Wrapped securely with a blanket, I travelled where she went. Nanna's voice would echo sounds of her feelings and glancing sideways I could see the world. I felt safe, nurtured and close to her. Sometimes she would stop and speak to me. Then she would hum her African song of being in the mountains gathering wood. My eyes did not see her as black or white or coloured. She was Nanna. Caring for me, being herself. As I grew older, Nanna had a skin colour. This was my conditioning. To see with eyes that some people had darker skin and were therefore different than me. It still amazes me that we can so easily be influenced by our environment and culture.