Page 116 - The Mending Season

“No,”she said. “My parents only get the city paper.”“Well, I told Tihelo, this woman who writes for the Sowetan, that I heard Beth call Veronica a kaffir.”My saying the word surprised both ofus. It gave me chills and I did not like it, but I had got tired of dancing around it along with everyone else. KB was so shocked that she looked at me for a moment, incredulous. Neither one ofus said any­ thing as we walked. I wanted to know what she thought. I wanted to talk to someone about the article, someone who was a little removed from the situation.When we reached the classroom, she shrugged and shook her head. “Anyway, I’m not going to be here for long.”“You’re leaving?” I asked.“Yup. My parents are transferring me to St Andrews. My dad says there are too many Blacks here anyway, that’s why the school’s having all these problems.”St Andrew’s was where her friends Sumaya and Brittany went. It was an extremely expensive school. I was not sur­ prised at her father’s reasoning. Many wealthy Black people had made that comment about the Catholic schools. Because they were cheaper than the other private schools, they had a lot more lower middle-class Black students.I wondered what she meant by “not for long”. I didn’t imag­ ine that she would leave mid-term. I started wondering if we would spend any more time together. The strange thing was that the thought of more time with KB suddenly felt less exciting than it did before.On Sunday, the aunts gave in to my request that we go to church again. Mmamane Malesedi stayed at home and said that she would cook while we were out. I think that she was least able or willing to take the stares.We sat in the back as we had the last time and hummed along when they sang. The priest’s sermon was about forgive­ ness. “And Jesus said: forgive them Father for they know not116