Hatred in the Hood

Hatred in the Hood

Feet dancing, children playing, women bearing the weight of their “new-born” on their backs, intoxicated fathers laughing and cheering. I am talking about the dusty, overcrowded pathways found in the heart of my “habitat”, Soweto”? It appears to be a cheerful situation, but all is not always what it seems. Police patrol the streets; they treat every single one of us like criminals and they dominate our lives, our destinies. They regard my people as nothing more than animals. Life was hard, but certain moments made it worth living. I have treasured these moments and I have put them away, safely in the corner of my heart. As I think back, I recall all the delightful times, and all the times of pain and anguish. Times of laughter, times of tears, times of protest, times of hate and times of love which will forever remain in my mind. One particular moment I recall is worth telling. A protest against apartheid, a protest for humanity. This was more than just a simple moment, it was a moment that changed my life, my perspective of life, and it changed the future of my closest colleague’s. As the police cars, tanks and other military vehicles drove past, I remember my friend standing next to me squeezing my hand tighter and tighter. I remember the sweat rushing from his forehead like a waterfall. We quickly made tracks and as I ran I heard 3 white males shouting at us. By this time the adrenalin was pumping so fast through my body that I had no other care in the world other than survival. As we were running faster and faster I turned my head to catch a quick gaze at the police. A white male, standing up tall and proud, struck fear into my eyes, as he was pointing a black rifle at us out of pure hatred. A loud, echoing noise. My friend fell. I didn’t stop, nor did I turn back. I kept running, faster and faster. I ran until failure. Out of breath, crying like a baby, I looked back, the only thing I could see was bulldo…


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