The freedom I know

While our more privileged peers who had fresh cornrows sat every Friday afternoon enjoying their weekly pocket money from their more privileged parents with fresh cars we sat and watched. We admired their lifestyles from afar while we felt sorry for ourselves from nearby. We felt sorry for the brown townships we came from and felt sorry for the dirty, younger siblings who would unfortunately have to sit in the same bench and have to watch this very same sight themselves when they got to varsity.

We looked on as the people in our class gave themselves over to expensive booze, careless sex and irresponsible parties while we sat almost admiring their freedom. The strange thing was that despite their lavish foolishness they still managed to pass and pass well in class. Were they clever and we stupid? They had a freedom we can't fathom. The only freedom we know is the one Madiba promised our parents back in 1994. The one that said something about a free education for all and opportunities for whites which were equal to that of blacks. We got excited when we heard him say that in front of white people because surely the grey headed man wouldn't lie to us.

Here I am on a Friday afternoon starring at a group of white kids, maybe 3rd year students with cars my own father has never even prayed to God about owning. He would have thought of a prayer like that as almost been mocking heaven. It was these kids' reality. We are the same age. Born in the same year, under the same sky and the same free and fairly elected government. He drives a BMW 1 series. I take a Hiace to class. He has a cheque card, I have a savings account from Standard bank. A plus plan account to be exact. It's cheaper than a normal savings account and I've had it since I was 13. The most money to ever enter the account was R700. I felt like Motsepe's daughter even though the money was deposited for my aunt from my dad to buy food for when he came over with his new girlfriend for Easter holidays. I bet R700 means nothing to these kids. I'm looking at a white boy named Mark Smith. Good looking, for a white. Tall. Blonde. I'm filled with hate and envy all at the same time. He probably had a full English breakfast with extra toast which he probably didn't even finish. What he had left over was probably thrown away. It wasn't given to the dogs because they have their own special food. His left over food gets thrown away. I had half a loaf of bread with jam and tea. We ran out of milk last night. My mother will buy more today because it's pay day.

Getting enrolled into varisty itself was like milking a rock. Mark probably did it online. He can afford it. I can't. He's privileged, I'm not. Higher education is optional for him. For me...it's my families way to a better life. Failing would have ruined the chances for my younger sister because I'll have to put her through school when I start working. If I fail I'll delay the chain of income. When we are both done with school our mother can retire and not have to clean after Mark Smith and his dogs everyday. She'll be free. I'll be free. We'll be free.

Free from poverty... Free from the having to always borrow money for me to get to school. Free from buying the most basic clothes on credit from Jet stores. Free from owing Capitec bank. Free from having jam and tea every single morning to eat. Free from thinking that the chances of me actually succeeding are! Free from worry about what my little sister will eat if mom where to lose her job! Free to one day just sit on a Friday afternoon after class drinking because I can! Free to live like a white kid named Mark Smith! I have no money. My parents are poor and in debt. Living is expensive Living with the hope of success in a country such as this... Is impossible The freedom I know is limited to the number of zero's in my bank account I'm not free to study what I want. Poverty has trapped me! I'm not free to dream as I wish. Money isn't there! God, please hurry up and bless Africa, guide her children and give her the peace due to her.