Dora's - Fight For Equal Rights
Page 3
Danie
Sitting at the dinner table in the dinning room, I began to ponder as I waited for my mother to bring the food to the table. Karin and I were chatting about her school day when I brought up the subject of Apartheid. I was explaining to her that we never really knew much about the lives of black people and how Anesu and Dora live and have they struggle. Probably because I have never talked to other blacks except for Anesu, and today Dora. Today had awakened a completely different perspective in to context. She told me how she lives and the school she goes to. Funnily enough, we are the same age and if she were white, we would probably have been best friends. I know that my parents would never allow me to have a black friend, nor even think about it. For that reason, I decided to keep this conversation with Dora and my feelings from my parents a secret and only to myself. My father has only one opinion and that opinion has to be the opinion of the whole family, end of story. I have never heard Karin express how she feels, but I have heard her influenced by my father. To begin stirring the conversation pot at the dinner table, I asked Karin “Is it really necessary for all non-whites to be discriminated against? I mean what are we gaining?” I hadn’t even finished my sentence when I could feel Karin glaring at me as if I had just crossed a serious line.
“Danie!” my father screamed. I turned around expecting him to be behind me. Instead he had screamed so loud, I heard him all the way from the kitchen. I stood up and walked slowly towards the kitchen. My father yelled furiously “How dare you ask such a question in my house!” then proceeded to tell me what a stupid boy I am to talk like that and that I did not deserve to sit at his dinner table. I could not believe what he was saying and that I was not allowed to question or have doubts about the society I was living and growing up in. My family home is just a small example of how the South African government controls and dictates to the citizens that live within its borders.
I went straight upstairs without dinner and lay down in my bed. Twisting and turning around in my fury bed covers, I wasn’t able to fall asleep. It was still early and even though I had no dinner I had lost my appetite. I started thinking about my conversation with Dora today and how fortunate I was just being born a white boy in South Africa. I was thinking about how I always had warm and freshly prepared dinner by Anesu every night, whereas Dora and her must be suffering to cook a little pot of food for them.
I don’t understand how society works, and how the colour of your skin defines who you are. Dora said to me today something about the Bantu Education that has been stuck in my head the whole day. She told me about her best friend Hector Pieterson, and Kimone. I can’t remember her last name but it was something to do with having light in our life. Lesendi, that was her surname. Dora explained that Hector is younger than she is but has the courage for fighting for power and against discrimination. There is a strong phrase that he apparently always uses “Amandla Awethu”, meaning power to the black Africans.
Today, she helped me comprehend the proper meaning of “Ubuntu”. Dora basically told me that I am what I am because of who we all are. Ubuntu means human kindness, and in our country the essence of being human. The problem is that our society struggles to be human, if eighty per cent of South Africa is black and lives in isolation. Having the Ubuntu quality makes you human as you are known for your generosity and this depends on having other humans by your side. I don’t know if my father is human, how can he possibly discriminate and lower others level of life just because of their skin colour. I can understand the views of some whites, but I don’t understand using violence to overpower them, enslave them and remove their human rights. They were born free people, and not people who must strive and fight for freedom like what’s happening at the moment. Dora is completely inspired by Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela. She explained her views as why she will continue fighting and as soon as Mandela is free, they will live in freedom and triumph again. Dora told me that in order for one to accomplish their dreams, they have to dare to believe. Mandela is a great leader that has even inspired me to believe what is right in order to make a difference. We think that we live our lives individually, separated from one another. Many people don’t realise that we are connected and single acts affect others, spreading across humanity.
Dora
When I got home, it was freezing. There was no more of Coetzer’s fancy heating. I put my bag down in the room I share with my mother and I went to go help with dinner. Searching for something cold, I found a bag of beans, and I gently placed it on my neck. I dream that one day I can live in a house as big as the Coetzer, and have my own bedroom just like Danie. I began stirring the Pap on the primus stove, when my mother looked at me and asked if I was ok. I looked up at her and wondered if I should say what I really feel. After a moment I asked “Does the colour of our skin, make us better people? Being born white, does that make you a better human being?” and she stopped what she was doing, grabbed me pulling me close to her chest and hugged me tightly. I felt so secure at that moment, as I felt her thumping but tranquil heartbeat. She told me how we live in a world where some people believe that to be happy, money is the only way. But you’ll never be truly happy because of what you own. Subsequently meeting Danie, I realised that having a wealthy family with mountains of money can still make you feel alone. In that aspect, I know that Danie’s parents love him in their own special way but I know how blessed I am to be loved and shown unconditional affection. In the Apartheid system, I have accepted the fact that my family will never be as wealthy as the Coetzer’s, because no non-white can earn the same amount of money as a white employee even if they work the same hours or even job. But inside I know that even with little money, my life is as rich as it can be. The important things are those you cant buy, but are free. When you know that others have more than you do, you may start to wonder if there is enough for you. But the big difference is just knowing that my mother loves me and respects me for whom I am, and that I always have a right to speak my mind and opinion, this is unlike the white boere children.
I know that one can make a difference in society. Already I feel like I have moulded a soft spot in Danie’s arms. One small step at a time and one can change a community. Education is such a powerful weapon, and the Afrikaans almost got away with it in 1953 with the Bantu Education Act. Although it was demolished, segregation continues in schooling. The act was to aim for education to teach people in accordance to their opportunities in life and directing black Africans to be trained to work in specific jobs. However I believe differently. It’s a waste of time and energy to let these thoughts inside your head and let other opinionated whites gain authority in controlling your life. Every person posses an incredible power with in them. By listening to Nelson Mandela’s actions and speeches, I have learnt that it’s the power of your mind that can make a difference and create your own reality. I told Danie today, that in order to accomplish something you have to dare to believe. There’s a unique word called Abundance. Meaning when it comes to life’s gifts, there is eternally furthermore. Whenever I’m in doubt, my mother always tells me that the great things in life will never run out, just as the love she has for me and the love of my father’s spirit.
Dora
Early in the morning I was sitting on the kitchen stool eating my banana, I heard a sudden voice outside our door. The sun was still arising, and I still had another hour until school starts. I looked behind me to my mother who was braiding plaits in my hair, and she starred back with concerned eyes, not knowing what voices we were hearing. Right outside the door, waiting for me was Hector and Kimone. They hugged me immediately with contentment. I hadn’t seen them for a day, and they already missed me. We are like three peas in a pod. I went inside, kissed my mother goodbye, and off we went to school. They began asking so many questions about my day yesterday. Kimone has never spent a day working and so she is curious about what to do and how they treat us. Hector on the other hand is only thirteen, and hasn’t considered the working area he will go in
to but he is still fascinated in the idea and is constantly mentioning his work treatment demands. I treat him like my younger brother, and I take care of him, as he does with Kimone and I.
As we were walking past Kimone’s house, we spotted a wall with spray paint saying “Away with Verwoerd”. This was South Africa’s white Supremes’ prime minister. I consider him to have been the principal initiator of Apartheid. The spray paint must have been old, since he died in 1966, yet none of us had ever seen it. Verwoerd was the one in charge of our education, believing that we Africans should be adapted to the economic life in South Africa. This limited us to benefit of higher education and future economic advancement. We began talking about it, and the improvement of the apartheid.
We then found a placard that had been taken down. However this time it was in bold capital letters in Afrikaans “HIERDIE OPENDARE PERSEEL EN DIE GERIEWE DAARVAN IS VIR DIE UITSLUITLIKE GEBRUIK VAN BLANKES AANGEWYS”, “OP LAS PROVINSIALE SEKRETARIS” stating by Order Provincial Secretary that the public premises and facilities thereof have been reserved for the exclusive use of white people. The yellow placard looked as if a black person had most probably hit it and/or tried to destroy it. The yellow was more of a brown from all the dirt on the ground and the black typed writing was starting to fade away. As I calmly read it, Hector exploded. He began protesting already against the fact that it was in Afrikaans. Hector managed to incite Kimone, and make her as angry. They began complaining about the circumstance that secondary schools are 50% in English and 50% in Afrikaans. This rule is implemented throughout South Africa regardless of our local language. It is so complicated and difficult when it comes to writing exams, as some of them have to be written in Afrikaans even though you cant speak the language properly and more importantly it’s the hated language of the Boer.
I was getting agitated but I was still calmer than Hector and Kimone. All of a sudden Hector’s face lifts up. It’s as if a light bulb turned on inside him. He said, “Guys, I have a brilliant idea!” Great there goes Hector and his amazing ideas again. Kimone and I looked at each other, as we are used to Hector coming up with ideas to riot or protest against any discriminating object, law or group. Except this time, I wasn’t sure if that was his idea. He began talking about how we could change the education system. Immediately I thought he wants to get us killed. He then added that it would be a peaceful riot. I actually considered it. We could get all the students at school to peacefully support us in front of the Department of Bantu Education. Lights lit up in all our heads, and so we began to plan.