I was a freshman in 2013, when I was told of a course that many students failed at. Philosophy and Logic was a good course and anyone that was invested in studying it could pass it. The highest grade that anyone received in it was a C-nothing more. However, Ds and Cs were handed out like Christmas presents.
I was a studying English Literature at the time. At first, I thought that I could understand the Philosophy model on my own, but after I did more research on it I changed my mind and decided that I needed some assistance. Then someone told me about Emika, he was a final year student who could possibly assist me. I didn’t know him very well at the time but I knew that he was very smart and had a gentle nature. He didn’t speak much, he had a few friends and always found himself in the company of the opposite sex. I thought about how I was going to approach him – ask him for his help. I knew that if I got him to help me that I would soon get As in Philosophy and Logic. I had no idea of how to approach him, but I had a way with people.
One day, he approached me outside the faculty of Arts and Humanities building. I was wearing my fake red Armani t-shirt, which gave me confidence because I looked good. I was on the phone with one of my friends when he tapped me on my shoulder. I was surprised at first, but then thought that maybe my friend had told him about me. I switched off my phone and smiled at him. He then asked me if he could speak with me and asked if we could go inside. I obliged and followed him into the cafeteria. I had no idea why he wanted to talk with me in private; I thought that many other students respected him.
He introduced himself and I did the same. At first we spoke about politics. He told me that politics was like the air we breathed -that we could never stop talk about it else we would die in exclusion and darkness. He then asked me about the clothes I’m wearing, where I bought the shirt from or if I bought it myself.
At first I was angry and offended at his question. Did I look like someone who couldn’t buy their own clothes? But I kept quiet, while he curiously watched my expressions. Then he apologized for offending me. When he stayed quiet after our first exchange it was my turn to be curious. Apparently there was a campus gang that wore red as their official colour, he thought me part of it. He changed his language and started speaking gang slang. I had no idea what he was talking about but I could see the anger in his eyes.
I then stood up and tried walking away, but he was holding to my wrist and pulled me back. He told me that there was a price to pay for someone who wasn’t part of their gang but wore the colour red. I now understood that he mistook me for one of their gang members. He continued to tell me that that person would be sanctioned by either paying the gang a fine by means of money or being beaten up.
And after the beating the culprit would have to remove their clothes. I then started shaking out of fear as I helplessly realised the danger I was in with my would-be-mentor. Then he suddenly received a call telling him that his next class was about to begin. He left me and promised me that he was going to get me, if it wasn’t on that day, that he would someday.