your cannons,
Come with your guns!
We demand freedom
And say
‘Away with slavery,
In our land of Africa!’”
Nandi’s voice mingled with the rest. At least their voices were free. Street after street, past rows of box houses all like her own, hundreds of feet and voices stirred up those who were not working in the city. Faces appeared at doors and windows. Little children ran out shouting before being pulled back by firm elderly hands. A voice from the side rang out,
“Go back home! You youngsters are asking for trouble!”
“Don’t worry, Baba! We’re ready for it!” someone shouted back.
Another old man, struggling off a chair in his front yard, raised up an arm and fist.
“Amandla!” In a wavery, thin voice he called for strength.
“ Ngawethu! To the people,” thundered students passing by, cheering and waving to him.
As they neared the cemetery, however, the mood suddenly changed. A halt in the march brought students packing in on each other. Up ahead, beyond the banners, Nandi could see that the cemetery gates were closed, barred around by rows of police and gigantic gray tanks. Steel monsters with great square black eyes. A voice was barking through a loudspeaker: “YOU ARE TO GO HOME IMMEDIATELY! ONLY FAMILIES OF THE DECEASED MAY ENTER!”
The crowd roared back: “THEY WERE OUR BROTHERS! LET US IN!”
Suddenly a great cry rose up. Choking, coughing, eyes stinging, blinded with something fierce and burning, Nandi found herself being pushed and pulled to avoid the swinging, crashing batons. Stones skimmed overhead toward the police as the school children began to push back desperately, scattering to find cover, fearing more of the terrifyinggunshots. The same gunshots that brought them to the cemetery today to sing their songs for the two already dead. Once again, songs had turned to screams and cries. Nandi could hear her own voice ringing out as she ran home. Above it echoed sharp, fearful cracks through the air.
No one saw Nandi slip back into the house. She grabbed her rope and began to skip vigorously out in the front to cover up her shaking. When Ma Tabane came to sweep the dirt out of her front door, she shook her head slightly.
“Ai, Nandi! You’ll finish yourself like that!”
Ma came home later than usual. There had been a rush job at the factory, and she had been ordered to work overtime. She knew already there had been trouble at the cemetery.
“You stayed at home?”
Nandi nodded.
“Did Esther come here today?”
“No, Ma.”
“ Tch! That boss has no heart!”
Ma spoke angrily. She looked upon her brother’s child as her own and wouldn’t be at ease until she knew Esther was safe. But now, with thecurfew, it was too late for a half-hour walk through the dark streets of Soweto to Khulu’s house. Nandi kept very quiet, trying not to let the pictures in her mind show on her face.
Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap.
At first it seemed part of her dream that night….
Nandi was acting “lookout” for Esther and her friends as they held a secret meeting in the tiny, cramped kitchen while Khulu and the neighbors were all out at work. Nandi’s job was to play outside, but if she saw anyone strange enter the road, she had to warn Esther immediately so the others could slip away through the back. She was pretending to be busy skipping in and out through the gate, when she heard the tapping. It sounded as if the students were typing. Then Nandi realized the rhythm was wrong. She froze. Whatever was it? She wanted to call out a warning signal, but somehow her open mouth had become stiff….
Nandi woke up, feeling panic. The tapping was real, coming softly from the window. Then everything was silent for a few seconds, except for the breathing of the twins sleeping next to her. It was very dark, probably after midnight. No noisescame from outside now—no running footsteps, no odd shouts or cries, no roaring of police vans.
Nandi gripped her breath and
Come with your guns!
We demand freedom
And say
‘Away with slavery,
In our land of Africa!’”
Nandi’s voice mingled with the rest. At least their voices were free. Street after street, past rows of box houses all like her own, hundreds of feet and voices stirred up those who were not working in the city. Faces appeared at doors and windows. Little children ran out shouting before being pulled back by firm elderly hands. A voice from the side rang out,
“Go back home! You youngsters are asking for trouble!”
“Don’t worry, Baba! We’re ready for it!” someone shouted back.
Another old man, struggling off a chair in his front yard, raised up an arm and fist.
“Amandla!” In a wavery, thin voice he called for strength.
“ Ngawethu! To the people,” thundered students passing by, cheering and waving to him.
As they neared the cemetery, however, the mood suddenly changed. A halt in the march brought students packing in on each other. Up ahead, beyond the banners, Nandi could see that the cemetery gates were closed, barred around by rows of police and gigantic gray tanks. Steel monsters with great square black eyes. A voice was barking through a loudspeaker: “YOU ARE TO GO HOME IMMEDIATELY! ONLY FAMILIES OF THE DECEASED MAY ENTER!”
The crowd roared back: “THEY WERE OUR BROTHERS! LET US IN!”
Suddenly a great cry rose up. Choking, coughing, eyes stinging, blinded with something fierce and burning, Nandi found herself being pushed and pulled to avoid the swinging, crashing batons. Stones skimmed overhead toward the police as the school children began to push back desperately, scattering to find cover, fearing more of the terrifyinggunshots. The same gunshots that brought them to the cemetery today to sing their songs for the two already dead. Once again, songs had turned to screams and cries. Nandi could hear her own voice ringing out as she ran home. Above it echoed sharp, fearful cracks through the air.
No one saw Nandi slip back into the house. She grabbed her rope and began to skip vigorously out in the front to cover up her shaking. When Ma Tabane came to sweep the dirt out of her front door, she shook her head slightly.
“Ai, Nandi! You’ll finish yourself like that!”
Ma came home later than usual. There had been a rush job at the factory, and she had been ordered to work overtime. She knew already there had been trouble at the cemetery.
“You stayed at home?”
Nandi nodded.
“Did Esther come here today?”
“No, Ma.”
“ Tch! That boss has no heart!”
Ma spoke angrily. She looked upon her brother’s child as her own and wouldn’t be at ease until she knew Esther was safe. But now, with thecurfew, it was too late for a half-hour walk through the dark streets of Soweto to Khulu’s house. Nandi kept very quiet, trying not to let the pictures in her mind show on her face.
Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap.
At first it seemed part of her dream that night….
Nandi was acting “lookout” for Esther and her friends as they held a secret meeting in the tiny, cramped kitchen while Khulu and the neighbors were all out at work. Nandi’s job was to play outside, but if she saw anyone strange enter the road, she had to warn Esther immediately so the others could slip away through the back. She was pretending to be busy skipping in and out through the gate, when she heard the tapping. It sounded as if the students were typing. Then Nandi realized the rhythm was wrong. She froze. Whatever was it? She wanted to call out a warning signal, but somehow her open mouth had become stiff….
Nandi woke up, feeling panic. The tapping was real, coming softly from the window. Then everything was silent for a few seconds, except for the breathing of the twins sleeping next to her. It was very dark, probably after midnight. No noisescame from outside now—no running footsteps, no odd shouts or cries, no roaring of police vans.
Nandi gripped her breath and
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