Have you ever wondered what it would feel like to be abandoned? I don’t wonder. I feel it.
On the 24 of November, 1962, just like the day before, I woke up and did my chores. I then got ready to walk to school. My school is pretty far from our house; it’s a couple of miles away. I had fun at school that day, like I always do, and I learned a lot too. When school was over, it was time for me to walk the way back home.
I got home, and instantly noticed my little brother, Kashi, crying. And, for some reason, he was hidden inside a kitchen cabinet. It was usually mama who took care of him. I helped occasionally, but mama should have been taking care of him while I was at school. I then called out for her, but there was no answer. I probably called her several too many times before I faced the fact that she wasn’t there. I also called papo several times, but he wasn’t there either. It was very odd, but I couldn’t just ignore Kashi crying to worry about it. I took care of Kashi, and then I started to call and look for my parents again. They were nowhere. No Where.
I was only ten years old, I didn’t know what to do, and all I could possibly think of doing was to cry for them to show up. I didn’t know how, but that’s what I wanted. And that’s what I craved the most ever since. After hours of frantically crying, I began to speculate about the possibilities of what led them to leave me and my little brother all alone, with no adult to turn to. This period of time held the hardest moments I had experienced up to that day. It is a terrible day when children have to wonder why their parents left them. I always loved my parents, and I thought they always loved me too. But after that moment, I began to hate them with every tissue of self I had.
How could our parents just leave us with nothing, and no one! What a very selfish and indecent act from people who are supposed to take care and love us. But I couldn’t spend all night moping about that, I had realized that I had the responsibility to take care of my little brother and me. I gave Kashi something to eat then put him to bed. I, on the other hand, didn’t have much of an appetite, I just went to bed.
On the morning of the 25 of November, 1962, was when I found out that the night before was not actually the hardest time I would experience. It was that morning, in fact, that was the hardest moment I had ever experienced in my life. It was that early morning that I realized that I was no longer privileged enough to attend the most beloved place I ever set foot in. I faced the fact that I had to take care of my little brother instead. It was terrible news. Then is when another session of tears beyond control started. It all dawned on me; I had no parents, I was an orphan, I had to take care of my little brother and myself with no help, where would I find food to eat, and, of course, I could no longer attend my beloved school.
***
Three years went by since I no longer had any parents. I found out how to plant some food and learned other basic skills I needed to acquire in order to survive. My brother is a little older now; he’s six and a half. I probably should try to go back to school. Kashi is very mature, so maybe he can take care of himself for a couple of hours. Tomorrow I will try to see how this works. This thought does make me very happy. I have been dreaming of this for three years. I thought it would be longer before I could go back to school, but luckily I have a very smart and mature little brother who can take care of himself while I’m gone.
**
I don’t know what to say. I am utterly speechless. Today I went to school, it was amazing, but that is not why I am speechless. Today, at school, I saw a friend of mine from three years ago. We spoke for a while after school, and then I asked her about her family and how they were doing. And the words that she then said are the cause of my great shock of which I speak of. Her parents are no longer with her either. I asked others, and many of them had the same unfortunate situation. My friend then told me something that was just too much for me to bear. She told me what really happened to my parents.
When I got home today, I felt very, very sad. I then felt so terribly guilty for hating and accusing my parents for something I was not even sure of. How I could I do that. I knew the relationship our family had. They would never have done what I accused them of. What was I thinking? Well, wasn’t thinking, I was just angry.
The day that I began to hate my parents is the day that I made the biggest mistake of my life. That was the day that I unfairly assumed the worst of my parents. My poor parents were actually arrested when I thought, for over three years, that they had left us. They were forced out of their house without even being able to say goodbye to their children. Nothing was their fault after all. They, in fact, actually saved my brother and me. If they had told the police men that they had children, we would have been arrested too. No, not because we did anything wrong, but only because we were black South Africans too.