The loudspeakers from the meeting went on deep into the night. The cheering crowd seemed to get louder and louder as the night went on. I eventually fell asleep so I didn’t know when they stopped exactly. Despite having been kept up late, my mother demanded I wake up early Sunday morning for church. I was groggy as I washed my face and dressed. I followed her down the quiet streets, half asleep. It felt like something wasn’t right but I was too tired to figure it out. I was just awake enough to put one foot in front of the other.

Now when I think back, I wonder why nothing was mentioned about the meeting at church. Pastor Elijah must have known what happened, but decided not to bring it up in his sermon. People at church must have known too, but no-one spoke about it.

Afterwards I remembered walking home and thinking it was odd that many of our neighbours who were at church, I had seen making their way to the big meeting the night before, and yet after church when people mingled outside not a single one talked about the meeting. That seemed odd to me at the time, even odder later. Why did they speak about all sorts of other things but avoided even mentioning the big meeting they’d all attended?

At home, my mother got to work on Sunday lunch and I helped my father clean out the back shed. He had decided he was going to make it into a workshop. He missed the carpentry work he’d been doing at the furniture factory, and thought he’d use his spare time to make simple tables and chairs out of wood. He didn’t want to lose the skills he’d gained at the factory. If they turned out OK, maybe he could sell them to people in the neighbourhood. It would be another way to make a bit of money. Maybe he could have his own furniture factory one day.

Just as we were sitting down to lunch, Masego arrived. He burst through the door and closed it quickly behind him. He stood in the middle of the sitting room for a moment and appeared confused about what he wanted to do. His clothes were dirty and, even from that distance, I could smell he hadn’t bathed for a while. He’d been away for some days. I wondered where he’d been sleeping. It looked like he must not have been going to work either. I hoped he wouldn’t get into any problems with Mr Williams.

“So you’ve decided to come home then?” my father said.

“Sure … why not?” Masego said. I was surprised that he still seemed spoiling for a fight with my father. I thought by now it would have all worn off.

“So how was your big meeting?” my father asked.

“It was OK. Why?” Masego said defensively.

“Just asking is all,” my father said.

My mother came into the sitting room and saw him. “Oh the lost sheep found his way home. Just in time for lunch then.” She looked down at the bottom of Masego’s shirt. My eyes followed hers and I saw the shirt was edged in something brownish, as if it had been dunked in red wine. “What’s that?”

Masego looked down. “Nothing.”

Then he rushed off to his room. When he came back, he had washed up and changed his shirt.

We ate our lunch peaceably, avoiding any difficult topics. I was happy my father had decided to leave Masego alone about everything. I didn’t like the fighting between them. We finished eating and I was surprised my mother had even made custard and jelly, like it was Christmas or something. She must have suspected Masego would turn up for Sunday lunch.

By the time we left the table, my stomach was as hard as stone and packed full. I went to lie on my bed and read to let my stomach calm down. José had loaned me a Batman comic he’d bought at the used book sale. I was already half finished with it and wanted to finish so I could give it back to him at school the next day.

Since I was in my room reading, I didn’t know anything was going on until I heard my mother scream. I rushed to the sitting room then. I was surprised to see four police officers there. I was confused; I didn’t know what could be going on. Why were police in our house? Already by the time I got there, they had Masego up against the wall, his face shoved against it. His arms were pulled roughly behind his back and the biggest police officer snapped handcuffs in place around his wrists.

I stood and watched the police officers push my brother out the open door of our house and load him into their van waiting outside. I was scared, scared for my brother and what the police would do to him.

I was also scared about what my brother had done to bring the police to our house.

* * *

Tell us what you think: Why is the community being so quiet about the meeting? Do you think that is right?