They are the most iconic religious image in our townships for as far back as our memories care to take us. They meander through our streets, low heeled black shoes cracking little stones, black leather handbags carrying Vaseline, tissues, hope and prayers. They never walk alone. They are a world unto themselves. A distant world, yet a world whose radiance permeates all of our lives. They glide through our communities draped in a multitude of uniforms and amongst all of them there’s one uniform in particular that is forever etched in our collective minds. It is said that the black skirt represents the sin that we are told we are born into. The red blouse, the blood of him one who bled on a cross. The white club placed squarely around the shoulders and the white hat shaped like the inside of a cathedral, these it is said, are the mark of purity that divine love brings into our lives. In their different church denominations they go by many names, we simply call them Bomme Bathapelo, Abomama Bomthandazo.