I think back to that moment. We were sitting on the couch at Olena’s. I was next to Asanda. We were watching Gugu on TV. Things were chilled. Even Asanda was being friendly and we were laughing at the characters on the soapie. As long as none of us mentioned Andile, who had become Olena, Thandeka and my favourite topic of conversation, things would be fine.

The next minute Gugu was over and the news came on. All that laughter and lightness flew out of the window as we stared at the TV screen.

People were burning shacks in Alexandra. There were people shouting for foreigners to go home, that they were stealing jobs.

A woman from Mozambique had been stabbed. She was pregnant. A man was burnt to death. They put car tyres around him and set them alight. Shopkeepers’ spazas were burned to the ground. The township had gone mad.

One minute I was a young teenage girl, chatting and laughing about silly stuff with friends. Now nobody said anything. But I knew what they were thinking. Fear filled me. Amongst us on that couch I was different from the others suddenly. I was like that woman from Mozambique. My parents were from Malawi, they were foreign.

But I was born in Katlehong, did that not count?

I looked at Asanda. She was staring at the screen.

“Violence has erupted in Alexandra,” the news reporter said. “There are people calling for foreigners to go back home. They are accusing them of stealing their jobs…”

“It is true,” Asanda said, when the news was over.

There was silence.

“What?” Asanda would not shut up. “They are taking our jobs. You heard that lady. They should go back where they come from. ”

“Everybody has the right to live in the country they choose,” I said, slowly. But I felt fear. Already Asanda was jealous of me, because of Andile, and suspicious of me. What would she do at school? What would she say to her friends? Would the violence come here? Would we have to move again?

Olena knew that I wasn’t Zulu. She was the only one that I had confided in and I hoped she would keep it a secret. I hadn’t even told Thandeka, but she had guessed.

I made an excuse and left Olena’s and ran home. I discovered that my mother had heard that it was starting in Cape Town. My mom wasn’t sure whether to let me go to school the next day. But she had to go to work. She told me to call her when I was on my way home. And to come straight home after school.

The next day at school when I walked into the classroom I knew that Asanda knew. She must have seen it on my face when we watched the news. She worked it out from what I said about everyone having the right to live here. She had probably always known that I was not Zulu. But now she could do something about it.

It would not be long before the whole class knew. She would make sure of that. Some of the class had already made jokes about my ‘funny’ accent. Some of them had noticed how I reacted when they called me Ntombi YomZulu.

I was right. Before the teacher came in to our class Asanda walked up to the blackboard. I watched as she wrote the words in fat white chalk letters for everyone to read.

“Mna ndithi mabagoduke amakhwirikhwiri nicinga ntoni class? I think these foreigners should go back home. What do you think, class?”

She turned around when she had finished writing and stared straight at me. Suddenly the class were whispering in every corner. The room became so small. I couldn’t take it.

“Someone has lied about who she is,” she said, smiling at Andile.

“Don’t worry, this will pass my friend. Just don’t show them if you are not ready yet. Stick with what you told them,” Olena told me quietly. I looked up to see the teacher walk in.

“Who wrote this?” she asked, rubbing those words off the board. But nobody owned up.

“Andile likes you regardless of where you come from. Of that I am sure. Don’t worry about Asanda. No-one takes her seriously and Andile won’t even spend a minute listening to her,” Olena told me at break. But she didn’t sound sure herself.

I went to the toilets and stayed there for as long as I could. I wanted to be home. Away from school. I wanted to be back in Katlehong, with my brother and friends who didn’t care where I was from.

As I was heading back to class my cellphone rang. It was my mother. I knew something had happened.

“Where are you now?” she said.

“I am still in class…”

And then all I heard was noises in the background; I couldn’t hear my mom’s voice clearly. People were shouting.

“I’m coming,” I told her. But there was silence at the end of the line.

“What’s happened? You look like someone’s died,” Olena said.

“It’s my mom,” I told Olena. “I need to go.”

I ran into class to fetch my schoolbag. When I was on my way out I heard Asanda calling behind me.

“You can’t just go. The teacher is going to ask where you are. You will get into trouble.”

I kept walking. When we got to the school gates Olena squeezed my hand then hugged me.

“Don’t tell anyone where I am. I don’t want them knowing. Do you understand Olena?”

She nodded.

***

Tell us what you think: What’s your opinion of what Asanda did? Why do you think she did it?