24
Even my observations on happenings in the street out-
side my African houses became invaluable and sprung
into use as soon as my twins were born. Nursing twins
and taking care of their 18-month-old brother when I
was in my early twenties was not a problem, because
inside and outside I saw mothers nursing in the open,
not hidden behind closed doors. Who knew that visual
lessons seep into a child’s unconscious? I thanked my
African mentors.
When I finally owned my own house, I put down roots
that ran deep. My favorite home was in Beaufort, S.C.,
where we restored a “tabby” manse built during the Rev-
olutionary War, which turned into a hospital for the Mass.
54th regiment during the Civil War. Hundreds of soldiers
recovered or died in the house, and, in the next century,
the house became a school, a rectory, and five apartments.
My instinct with this historic house was to make it look
like one family, my family, had occupied it for 200 years,
