Black & White

-24-

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - F O U R

Soweto
19 April 1976

The big day has arrived. After weeks of preparation, today was the opening round of the provincial debate tournament. Our entire school was bustling with anticipation. For the first time in South African history, an all-black school was going to compete in a provincial tournament reserved for white institutions. I'm not sure whether my classmates realize that we've made history, and the competition hasn't even begun yet. We sat in class, going over our speeches one final time as we waited for Mrs Dlamini to ratify our next step. It was refreshing to see my classmates and friends so animated. We were ready.

"What's going on here?" A voice rang out in our classroom. Mrs Brytenbach, our Afrikaans teacher.

"Good morning, ma'am. We are waiting for Mrs Dlamini. She went to arrange transportation to take us to the debate." Khumo said. As you can already tell, Khumo was more than just the class clown; he also served as our spokesperson.

"I see. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but there is no transportation to get you to the debate." Mrs. Brytenbach revealed. She wore a smug grin on her face. She was happy that we didn't have transportation. The thrill dwindled away. I could see the emotions of sadness on the faces of my classmates. I, too, was disappointed. I was genuinely looking forward to the debate, believe it or not. That was not my initial attitude towards the debate. However, my attitude towards it shifted since that tragic evening at my house. I couldn't wait to get up there and prove them wrong. Show them that we are not as foolish as they believe. In reality, we are far smarter than them, which is why they were so afraid of us.

"Thank you, ma'am, but we'll have to wait for Mrs Dlamini to confirm those details for us." Khumo smiled as he spoke. Of all my friends and classmates, Khumo was the most optimistic. In whatever situation, he preferred to focus on what was good and what he could do to make things better. She laughed. A mocking laugh. "You were never going to win the competition. You were never going to make it through the first round. Did you truly believe that this school could compete with white students from top schools in Gauteng? Those youngsters are smarter than you. They were going to devour you. Just spare yourself the embarrassment and forget about that debate."

"Thank you for your words of encouragement, Mrs Brytenbach, but may I speak to my students now?" Mrs Dlamini spoke out, declaring her presence as she stood at the entrance of our class doorway. Mrs Brytenbach turned around, visibly surprised to discover Mrs Dlamini standing at the doorway. She hastily masked her surprise with a phony smile. And proceeded to move towards the entrance. "Stop selling these children false dreams. We both know they'll never make it in life. People like them never succeed." She muttered this as she walked out of the classroom.

"Is it true, Ma'am?" We're not going to the debate anymore?" One of the students inquired.
"I'm very sorry, folks. The school lacks the finances to organize transportation to take you to the debate." Mrs Dlamini replied, a pained expression on her face.
"So we practised for nothing?" Another learner asked.
"No, you did not practice in vain. You are natural born leaders and outstanding speakers, debate or no debate. I've been astonished by how well all  of you spoke during the last several weeks. The goal of this practice was to help you recognize this. I wish you could have as much faith in yourselves as I do." She informed us. Her statements showed me that she was more than just our English teacher. She was our mother. A mother is someone who believes in you even when the odds are stacked against you. She recognizes your potential before everyone else.

"Ma'am, can I go speak to Mr Mthethwa?" Khumo asked.
Confused, I turned to him, "Why do you want to go see our Maths teacher now?"
He jumped out his seat before Mrs Dlamini could answer to his request. "You will see!" He chirped before running out the class.

"What now? Do we resume with our timetable" Mbuyisa asked.
"Yes. I'm really sorry guys. But don't be sad, more doors will open for us soon." Mrs Dlamini reassured us.

30 minutes into our History lesson and Khumo still had not returned.
"I wonder what he's up to." Mbuyisa spoke up next to me.
"Do you think he skipped school?" I asked.
"I doubt. I know he dislikes school very much but he would never do something that could get him in trouble. I'm just curious why he had to go see Mr Mthethwa."
"Maybe he went to ask for extra classes so he can improve his maths marks." I shrugged.
"Okay clearly you and I are not talking about the same Khumo." Mbuyisa chuckled.

"Are you okay?" Mbuyisa asked after a few seconds of stillness. I gave Mbuyisa a puzzled look. Did he believe that I was disappointed about us not going to the debate?
"I'm all right. I am a bit sad about the debate. But it's not that big of deal, right?"
Mbuyisa sighed. "I am not talking about the debate Ayize."
I understood precisely what he was talking about when I noticed the concerned look on his face. "Well, what are you talking about? I am completely fine." I lied.
"A few weeks ago, you had a panic attack on our way to school. I still haven't forgotten you know." I cleared my throat and turned away from him, "It was nothing."
"I hope you know that Khumo and I are here for you. Whatever it is that you are going through, we will be here to hold your hand." He stated this while taking my hand in his. Before I could respond, Khumo rushed into our class out of breath and with a broad grin on his face. His tie hung loosely around his neck. There were beads of sweat on his forehead.
His school shirt was drenched in sweat.
"What have you been up to? Sit down and begin with your history work." Mrs De Villers told Khumo
"Unfortunately ma'am, that won't be happening because my classmates and I have a debate tournament to get to and we are running late already." He announced.
"Wait a minute, what? How?" I asked him. When he turned to face me, his eyes were drawn to my occupied hand. "Why is Mbuyisa holding your hand?" I rolled my eyes and pulled my hand from Mbuyisa's grasp. "Just answer the question Khumo. Are we actually going to the debate competition?" Khumo was still staring daggers at my now unoccupied hand. He dramatically rested his hand on his chest, displaying how heartbroken he was, "You've never held my hand like that yet I am your best friend. Are you replacing me?"
"Khumo!" He was screamed at by the entire class. "Oh, sorry guys. We will finish this conversation later young lady." The last statement was addressed at me.
"Well? Are we going to the debate or not?" Mbuyisa asked.
"All of you saw me leave the class to go see Mr Mthethwa, right?" The class nodded in response to Khumo's question. He continued, "Since I love you guys so much, except for Mbuyisa of course, I asked Mr Mthethwa if he could drive us to the debate since he owns a taxi. And he said agrred!" Cheers broke out after Khumo's announcement.

Immediately after his short announcement, Mrs Dlamini entered the classroom. A wide smile on her face, which validated what Khumo had said. "I believe Khumo has told you guys the good news?" Everyone was grinning from ear to ear, except for one person of course, Mrs De Villers, who packed her belongings and exited the class. We couldn't care any less.
"I'm afraid I have some unpleasant news. Because the taxi only has 21 seats, we won't be able to accommodate all 45 of you. We will be taking the 15 speakers for today, however there are six seats still availabe. One is for myself. You can pick who will fill the remaining five seats among yourselves." Mrs Dlamini explained.
"I have to go because I was the one who organized the transport. So now there are 4 seats remaining." Khumo announced.
"Are you even interested in this debate, or are you only going because Ayize and Mbuyisa are going?" Someone from our class asked Khumo, who responded by saying, "It doesn't matter. I'm still going. Now, chop chop and decide kids."

After a short discussion we finally decided as a collective who will be going to the debate today. To make things fair, the people who will be going today, will not go to the next round (unless you are a speaker for that round of course) so that they can give others a chance to go and watch the debate. Khumo and Mrs Dlamini escorted us to Mr Mthethwa's taxi. I sat in the 3 seater between Mbuyisa and Khumo. Once everyone was in the taxi and settled, Mr Mthethwa started the engine and we took off. I glanced over at Khumo and leaned in closer to whisper in his ear. "How did you convince him to drive us to the debate?" Mr Mthethwa was a stern man. He was dreaded by everyone in the school. "I told him that my mom would do his wife's hair for free for the next few weeks if he became our designated driver. And as they say, a happy wife equals a happy home." He said proudly. "And your mom agreed?" I asked. "Of course. It's for school anyway." And this is why him and I were friends, aside from the fact that our moms are friends and we practically grew up together. Khumo was a very selfless person. Always putting other people's needs and happiness ahead of his own. He was an amazing friend and I was fornuate to have him in my life. I wish I had told him sooner, while he was still alive and breathing.