I started life as a weird-looking little seed in the sub-tropical Bushveld of Southern Africa.
Many of the other seeds that laid beside me in the shade of the woodland would tease me, saying I looked like a brown papery fried egg!
I however hail from a proud family called Fabaceae; our bloodline has a really fancy Latin name Pterocarpus angolensis, but we have all adopted common names like Kiaat, Bloodwood, Paddle-wood, Sealing-wax tree, Wild Teak or Transvaal Teak. My family name simply is Kiaat.
Mother said I would become sought after one day as craftsmen would turn me into beautiful items that people would pay dearly for – cabinets, lamps, tables, chairs, bowls, and boxes that would house priceless diamonds and gold jewelry; they would even make paper from me.
My mother was right as always, but I went through a great deal of suffering before her words became true.
I was not a happy little seed chappie when the winds separated me from my mother who towered over me.
She used to tell me not to let anyone bully me so I simply ignored those nasty bullies and made new friends and they left me alone.
I always remembered her words, saying that I would also grow into a beautiful, resilient tree like her and that my time to shine would come, but it would take a long time, so I had to learn to be patient.
As I laid on the ground in that woodland I started shriveling and got covered by soil; it was frightening as everything around me grew dark.
But I gathered my strength and remembered what my mother had said, and when the rains came down, I found myself almost blinded by the sunlight as I peered out at a whole new world.
Many years passed and finally, the day came when it was my turn to proudly tower over all the other trees in the woodland.
I knew it was time for my transformation when the loggers came along saying I was a real beauty and would fetch a good price.
I must say that journey was harrowing and scary, especially falling from that height and being cut into pieces, but I knew this was my lot and remembered my mother's words that I would indeed become a sought-after item.
It was almost time for my final destination.
I was bought by a carpenter who, like my mother said, turned me into furniture and decor pieces that beautified many homes.
The leftover pulp was sold and would be turned into paper that would travel all over the world.
But there was one little piece of me that fell beside the wayside, no one wanted me and they tossed me into the river.
The rains came down and I was washed downstream.
That was one terrifying ride, but I remembered what Mother had said, ‘Be brave my child, none of your sufferings will be for nothing’.
I must have passed out but awoke with a jolt as I hit my head against a massive log. I heard the waves crashing before me and realized I almost got washed into the big ocean!
I laid on the sand at the mouth of the big river for what appeared to be an eternity, till a man and woman came along. The man excitedly picked me up and lovingly stroked me and said to his wife that he was taking me home. He told a passerby that he was a sculptor. I did not know what that meant.
I was quite apprehensive as I didn’t know what he was planning but heard him say that I reminded him of a mother and child. That puzzled me!
He drew sketches before he started carving away at me with a chisel; it was painful but I knew this man was turning me into something very special and for that to happen, I had to endure the pain.
But the man was gentle, stroking me as if to say he was sorry that he had to hurt me, but I knew this painful process was part of my growth.
He chiseled away gently with his carving tools and sometimes had to use a very noisy machine, but always stroked me gently afterward. He finally rubbed me with coarse paper till I became smooth and glossy.
The day came that his work was done and he called his wife in to have a look at what he made; it was a beautiful sculpture that he called ‘Mother and Child’.
My heartbeat quickened as I envisaged being reunited with my mother!
The man gave me to his special friends as a Christmas gift, they were overjoyed!
Mother and I now stand proudly on a beautiful hallstand at the entrance of our new home, welcoming visitors who look at us in wonder, stroking us gently in admiration.
The sculptor of Mother and Child, Peter Wink, doing what he does best, and that is producing beautiful sculptures in his studio in Umhlanga, Kwazulu Natal. Peter went to school with my Arthur and gave us this sculpture as a gift. He is married to our very own 
Just like the sculptor created this beautiful artwork
that he so generously gave to us as a gift;
each one of us is chiseled away by God, or life itself,
changing us into something unique and beautiful.
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