Page 41 - The Mending Season

sometimes - and their English! - you would think they were White ifyou didnt turn around to see who was talking.”“They speak really well,”I agreed, “and there was this Black girl who came in a large Mercedes Benz.”“Tshidiso,” Mmamane Mabatho burst out, “when did you start talking about what other people have? Where are you getting these manners? Dont bother with what other people have. You’re in the same school, aren’t you? You pay the same school fees.”“Ok now, you should get out of that uniform. Go, go!” Mmamane Malebone told me.“A lot ofparents drive ...”I started again.“Tshi-di-so!” Mmamane Malebone raised her eyebrows. I had gone too far. “Go\ Hao!”“Go change, hao\ What culture is that from? Are you in school to learn or to look at how much money people have?” Mmamane Mabatho said, shooing me with one hand.On the second day of school, I felt even more lost. Mrs Allison arrived at the same time as me. I walked behind her, intrigued by her quick, short steps and how she held her head up in the air. Her shoulders were up and her back straight. Everything about how she dressed and carried herselfseemed so perfect that I wondered if she had ever been a model. She did not seem to notice the people around her. She said “Good morning” to two nuns whom I had not seen the day before, who were walking back from the swimming pool with large towels in their hands. As the two sisters passed me, I imagined them swimming in large, polka-dot swimsuits - the type that you see in 1950s films, the ones that look like skirts. I won­ dered ifthey had swim veils instead ofswim caps. They smiled at me and I said, “Good morning.”In class, the Black girls were sitting at the back, admiring Trish’s nails. They all looked up at me and said hello. I looked at my own hands and quickly held them in fists, resolving to41