***A week later in Randfontein, Mohlakeng***

Mama Khumalo sang a song she used to hear her parents sing during their struggle for freedom. While she was singing, Sizwe walked in after doing some gardening work in one of their neighbour’s yards.

“Someone feels good today,” Sizwe said, entering the kitchen.

“I am remembering the good times we experienced in life as children,” Mama Khumalo responded.

“Isn’t that an apartheid song?” Sizwe asked. “That is not a good time’s song.”

“You know, my son, I think apartheid was better than the life we are living now,” Mama Khumalo said.

“Mama?” Sizwe responded, sounding troubled. “When you used to live in fear for your lives. They forced you to go through things you did not want to and treated you like animals.”

“At least we stood together as one, unlike now, when we are fighting against our own race,” Mama Khumalo said. “The youth is addicted to drugs, and you walk around nude, arousing each other to rape and impregnating each other with no jobs. On the other hand, the government is failing us with its promises. It is like we fought and died for nothing.”

“Mama, do not make me sad,” Sizwe said.

While they were talking, they heard a group of people chanting “mayibuye inkululeko yethu!” (may our freedom come back) outside. Musa then barged into the house.

“Sizwe, woza! (Come), we are going to restore order in our country,” Musa said.

“What now, Musa?” Mama Khumalo asked.

Musa was the only politically orientated person in the house. He had taken after his father, who had lost his life during political struggles. After his father’s death, the family suffered until Mama Khumalo got a job as a maid at the Viljoen’s home. Sizwe assisted financially in the house, unlike his brother Musa.

“Look, brother, there is a new movement in town, and they have even gotten us jobs, but since I did not complete my matric, only you can apply, little bro,” Musa said, handing Sizwe pamphlets, and then left.

“What is written on them?” Mama Khumalo asked.

“Democratic Government Restoration Movement. Get rid of illegal foreigners, discipline the corrupt government, and bring back our South Africa! A movement of the country’s white sheep,” Sizwe responded, reading the pamphlet.

“I mean the job,” Mama Khumalo said.

“Gorbin Industries Law Enforcement Recruitment,” Sizwe responded. “Apply by sending an email with your CV to corbinIndustrieslawenforcer@gmail.com, and get a reply of acceptance or rejection instantly.”

“Apply, now!” Mama Khumalo said.

“There is rejection also,” Sizwe responded.

“Just apply Sizwe!” Mama Khumalo said.

Sizwe took his cell phone and emailed his CV. “They accepted my application! No ways!” he said, sounding amazed.

“Yes ways, what does it say?” Mama Khumalo asked.

“I am required to go to Gorbin Industries in Jo’burg in 3 weeks, provide security with my candidate number, 015, and start training,” he responded. “There is no screening tests required, and you are accepted only if you are medically fit.”

“Wow, that is great news,” Mama Khumalo said, hugging Sizwe. “Where is Musa? This calls for a celebration.”

Tell us: What do you think about Mama Khumalo saying apartheid was a better time than today?