It’s a beautiful Saturday evening, the air is filled with laughter and mouth-watering kasi cuisines. Accompanied by the stars twinkling above us, the music is blasting through the speakers playing our favorite amapiano jam, our bodies carelessly moving along with the rhythm.

Suddenly the music dies, laughter is replaced with dread as people are dragged into the waiting police vans.

Waking up slowly, trying to gather my thoughts, I’m immediately hit with the sour taste left in my mouth from last night’s liquor.

“That’s what you get for disobeying the lockdown rules!” the police officer spits.

My mind recalls lying about my whereabouts to my mother. I feel a knot in my stomach.

“We are in huge trouble,” Kgolekane sobs.