Oppression

1

January 1st, 1968;

Paarl, South Africa

There was nothing more to the neighborhood than dust and sheet metal. Every direction I looked and saw faces without hope. Coloured families cramped into boxes of sheet metal for homes who had no jobs, no opportunity, no future to look forward. Everyone wondered if there would come a day were the South African government would cease to repress their freedom, but those days never came. Nothing ever changed in the town of Paarl. Here, there were neighborhoods were white Afrikaners thrived in the inner-town, and then there we were; in the shanty towns on the outskirts.

As the three of us walked to school we never spoke, we just walked together as if we were one person. As my friend Alu sucked on a citrus from his mother's garden. I stuck my open palm out as a gesture for permission to have a bite of his orange. A few seconds passed by. I grew impatient and sternly blurted "Please, I haven't eaten since yesterday."

Alu stuck his chin up in contempt and spoke proudly "Lethoso, MY motha grew it.....MY fruit."

At this point, his pettiness had gotten to me. I just stare back at the ground, waiting for an opportunity to snatch the orange from his hands.

As the three of us continue walking, Ruth loses control of the tire she was rolling and I right over it. As my face had hit the ground, I squinted my eyes shut before finding a way to react to the pain. I then notice the sound of Ruth's and Alu's laughter immaturely. I get up and stare at Alu blankly. He looks at me and his laughter slowly dies. Then his expression grew serious. I hold out my hand again and he places the orange right in my palm. We then continue on our way to the school.
Minutes pass and nobody speaks. Ruth attempts to break the silence. " Why you so cross Lethoso?"

" Cause you laugh when I fall."

"So? Everybody fall...... and everybody laugh when everybody fall. It's the thing that happens"
I couldn't argue back, so just kept moving forward.

As we walked across the street to were the school was, a small group of teens our age stood, staring at us as a lion stares at its prey. They were busy sharpening wooden spears with pocket knives. Their clothing only consisted of tattered shorts with their exposed torsos abstractly decorated with cuts and scars. Some were infected and were covered in greenish-yellow puss.

As intimidated as we were, the three of us attempted not to make eye contact with them and we continued across the street and into the school.

As we entered the dusty structure with crumbly walls, the tension died and Ruth broke the silence once again.

"Who were they?" She asked.

I hesitantly answered "Those are Zulu boys. They kill you for small reason"

Alu insensitively questioned, "wasn't your fatha Zulu?"

"I'm still not sure. All I know is that my motha was raped were Zulu live in the big city..... These questions are not for you to ask anyway." My voice grew angry.

Alu reasonably added, "Why don't you ask me what happened to my fatha?"
I came to a halt, rested my fists on my hips and asked strictly "Well?"

Alu was shaken. "He just went missing" he muttered.

"What do you mean he went missing?!" I lost my patience.

"He was there and then morning I woke up and he wasn't there no more" Alu's voice grew soft.

I turned forward and continued walking, Ruth and Alu continued to follow. We entered the classroom filled with a swarm of students like bees in a hive.It seemed that almost everything in the world was happening in this classroom. The room was filled with students laughing and shouting socially. I stayed silent and led Ruth and Alu through the class. With my head high I faced forward and stepped slowly.