It may seem like gloating, but...

It has been four months since my last post. Having just closed out the past semester – by far the most difficult of my short academic career – I am slowly re-emerging and connecting with current affairs and the social world around me.

My students, those I taught this past semester and over the past four years, have surprised me; their essays have been outstanding and exams quite exceptional… There has, however, been another development that has thrilled me, humbled me and, well, made me smile that devilish smile – like Jack!

So… To the former avatars and Department of Kleurling Onderwys. Julle Moere. To the teachers at Eldorado Park High School who were kind, Les Africa, Stanley Ross, Pieter De Villiers, Aziz Evans – I hope I make you proud. To another teacher, Moses Du Toit, of Eldorado Park High School who insulted me, gravely, many years ago for having the audacity to sit in the company of De Villiers and have an adult discussion while I was a mere 14 years old; Bite me, you miserable fuck!

You see, folks, sast Saturday I sat in the audience (the space reserved for professors) while my first group of students – those who I have taught on and off for the past four years – walked to the stage to receive their degrees. It was quite possibly the proudest day of my life. There they were, MY STUDENTS, a group of students who, in their evaluations of my teaching gave me the highest possible praise, and by graduating – magna cum laude, summa cum laude – made me feel that the rejection, by Kleurling Sake and by the likes of Mr Du Toit at Eldorado Park, was in the end meaningless, perhaps even a great gift. You who criticised me, a “coloured”, kid for having green eyes and a fair skin – something which I have never, quite overcome!

To the Departement van Kleurling Onderwys. Fok julle almal!

To “Mr Bloem”, who hit me, repeatedly, one day because I dared to question WHY he inflicted corporal punishment upon us that afternoon; wherever you are, I hope you get an itch you can never scratch enough…

You see, we lined up outside his class one day, probably making a lot of noise. He called us in, lined us up, and hit each one of us with a thick wooden rod – twice! Then he asked: “Will enige iemand weet waarom ek julle pak sla gegee”. I said: “Ja meneer.” He called me up, hit me twice. Then asked the question again, to which I repeated: “Ek will nog steeds weet, Meneer”…. This was repeated over and over… That day I received 12 cuts, the rest of the class only two. Mr Bloem, my enquiring mind resulted, albeit late in life, in a Doctorate in Philosophy and now, my first class of graduates. I wonder where your miserable life has taken you – i really do. When/if I ever see you, I will not be humble and kind, or show you any decency. Too many of us “coloured” kids were fucked up by the system of “Coloured” Education. I don’t recall you ever protesting. I do recall people like you calling the police when WE protested; I do recall getting my head kicked in by the police (at another school). I never wanted to write about my own issues with apartheid; they really are meaningless compared to what many millions of South Africans had to endure. But today my students have made me proud.

To the readers of this post, you will, I am sure, pardon what seems like gloating. It’s not gloating, actually, just a quiet satisfaction. To my students – thank you! You have no idea, just how difficult this journey has been for me. You make it all worth while.