The next evening I found myself standing in front of one of the biggest houses I had ever seen in my life. The taxi had dropped me off a long way from the house and then I had walked. Local taxis didn’t go to the suburbs. Peter hadn’t told us when he was leaving to go home, or I could’ve hitched a hike in his car. He drives a BMW that his parents bought for him on his twenty-first birthday.

Thabiso didn’t come with me. I hadn’t seen him since the campus social. He had signed us up for this and now he wasn’t even here.

The fence around the house was high and had an electric cable running over it. There were boards on the cable saying, ‘Danger: Stay Away’. I pushed the intercom button and the gates opened. The grass inside was well-cut and a lawn mower stood in the middle like a boat lost at sea. There was a double garage; one garage door was closed, with a grey BMW X5 parked outside.

I went up the veranda stairs. The front door was wide open. I was shit scared of the dog that was standing barking at me, like it was about to attack me.

Peter came out. “Don’t mind him, he won’t bite,” he laughed. That’s what he thinks, I thought. The dog was looking at me like I was a specifically black intruder and he could smell my fear. I read somewhere that white people’s dogs are racist. I hid behind Peter.

“Don’t run away, Kamo. He won’t bite,” he said again, trying to calm me. How could I not be afraid? It was baring its teeth at me as I went inside.

Just then a girl entered the room and patted the dog and allowed it to kiss her legs. “Be nice,” she said to the dog and it immediately stopped barking and walked away.

“Kamo, meet my sister, Nadine. Nadine this is Kamo, my roommate,” Peter introduced me to the birthday girl. I hugged her. As I did so I realised that I had never hugged a white girl before.

“The party is at the back,” Peter said, tossing me a beer. “Come and join us. Hey, where’s Thabiso?”

“I don’t know…” I said, feeling resentment towards my friend who had landed me here on my own.

My phone beeped. Speak of the devil.

Hey dawg! On my way…wll

b thre now now!

There was another WhatsApp message from Zimasa.

Whr r u ? U OK? Hvn’t seen u since protest.

Worried, wre u arrested? Ru OK?

Cll me! I phnd ur mther.

I should’ve called Zimasa. That’s what a good boyfriend does; he calls his girlfriend. But Zimasa and I had been fighting lately – always screaming at each other over the phone like an old couple who couldn’t decide whether to leave the relationship or not. I loved her, but I hated fighting with her. Ever since Monday, the day of the protests, I’d been deliberately avoiding her. What if she had seen me drive past them in the private taxi whilst they were being chased by police and security? What would she think of me if she knew I was there with Peter and his sister?

My phone rang. It was my mom.

“Mama?”

“Are you OK Kamohelo?” she said.

My mother doesn’t usually use my full name when she calls me.

“I saw what happened on the news. Are you OK?” she said again. I didn’t know what to tell her. Should I tell her that I got an injured knee as I was running away from the security?

“I’m OK, Mama,” I said. My voice didn’t sound convincing though. “It’s just my knee that got hurt! It could’ve been worse Mama. I saw a pregnant woman fall when we were running away.” I didn’t know why I was telling her all this; my emotions seemed to overwhelm me suddenly.

How did things get to this? I remembered when I was young, she used to hold me whenever I cried, and she’d tell me that everything was going to be OK. Now, I missed that! I was so far from home and I needed my mother.

“That’s it. We are coming to fetch you,” she said. I knew from the tone of her voice that it would be hard to talk her out of it. That’s the thing about my mother, once she makes up her mind about something, there’s no going back.

“No, I’m OK, really. I’ll see you next week when I come to Nompompo’s concert,” I reassured her. The concert, I thought wryly, was a special Mandela Day concert. Sixty-seven minutes for Mandela. It was a celebration. My sister still believed, I thought. They did ‘rainbow nation’ projects in LO. She was so excited.

***

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