Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: COLOR (07/30/20)
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TITLE: Innocence Destroyed | Previous Challenge Entry
By Corinne Smelker
08/05/20 -
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“But Timothy, I’m working.”
“Tell your boss you need to go, now. I’m not joking.” His face told me he wasn’t. I approached Aubrey, owner of the Steers restaurant where I worked. After gesturing to Tim, he agreed to let one of the other servers close out my tables.
“I’ll follow you to my flat,” Tim said once we left.
“What is it? Why can’t we talk here?” I questioned.
Tim gently took my arm, “I want privacy.”
This did not bode well. Was he breaking up with me? If so, why pull me out of work? We’d only been together three months, not totally serious, but pretty exclusive.
“All right,” I sighed.
Ten minutes later we entered his downtown flat. Although it wasn’t huge, it was well appointed. Tim, who was about seven years older than I, was in the South African Army and already high up in the ranks. His flat reflected his status.
“Do you want a whisky?” He moved over to the bar, decanting the whisky, neat, into two glasses. “Sit down,” he said and handed me a glass.
“What’s going on? You’re scaring me.”
“Ok,” he took a deep breath. “Did you attend Woodmead?”
“Wait. What? Yes. Why? Hang on, how do you know where I went to school?” The questions came tumbling out. Woodmead was a tiny boarding and day school more than 60 miles away, and definitely not well-known.
“Do you know Mohammad Samir?”
“We were in the same matric class but there were only 20 of us, so of course I know him.”
“His dad is an attorney.”
“So are a lot of people. Tell me what is going on.”
His posture changed. “You’re being followed.”
I almost spat my whisky out. “I’m what?”
He took my glass from my shaking hands, before folding them in his. “Today the Security Branch of the South African Police visited me. They showed me photos of you leaving this flat, us together at different venues, me dropping you off at work and so on. They told me you’re considered a security risk because you attended Woodmead and fraternize with known dissidents.”
“Known dissidents?”
“Samir’s dad is the main attorney for Nelson Mandela and has been petitioning the government for his release for years. And according to them, Woodmead is an illegal school, only tolerated because international governments send their diplomats’ kids there because it is multiracial, not segregated by colour, unlike the rest of the country.”
I thought of Paula, a diplomat’s kid from Canada. I thought of Matilda, a Swazi princess and my roommate at Woodmead. I thought of Sipho, a black kid, only at Woodmead because of the financial largesse of those governments.
“But what does this have to do with you?”
“Do you know what I do for the Army?”
“No. We haven’t really talked about work much.”
“There’s a good reason for that. I’m in Intelligence and have the Army’s highest security clearance.”
“I still don’t understand…”
“Here’s the deal. The government considers you a security risk because you have non-white friends. The Security Branch is convinced you could infiltrate the Army, through me, and then get information to Mandela.”
I laughed until tears rolled down my cheeks, then noticed Tim’s somber face. “You’re not joking, are you?”
He shook his head.
“I’m 22 years old, I’m no threat to anyone!”
“I know, I know. But my career is on the line.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, like you, I was born in the UK and became a naturalized South African citizen. The Security Branch gave me an ultimatum. Never see you again, or we both get deported.”
I stared at him in amazement. “Deported? I’ve lived here almost my whole life. This is my home!”
“I know, I’m in the same boat as you.”
Silence took over as we looked at each other. “We have no choice,” I finally said. “We have to break up. It’s not like we’ve been talking about marriage and kids and a future.”
“I know,” Tim said softly. “I don’t think we have any other option.”
We held each other for a while before I let myself out, never to return. The street lamps cast a yellow light on the black tarmac, and as I drove I contemplated the complexities of a country that feared the colour of one’s skin so much that they were willing to derail the lives of two innocent people.
(750 words)
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This is a true account, only names have been changed. Three years after this occurrence Nelson Mandela was released and the first true one-man-one-vote elections were held in South Africa, allowing the black and brown population to have a real voice.
To learn more about Woodmead, copy and paste these links:
https://www.csmonitor.com/1983/0808/080804.html
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/education/194949.stm
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