My mother was a member of the Cape Coloured community. ‘Coloured’ is the South African word for the half-caste community that was a by-product of the early contact between black and white.
I attended school regularly for three years. I learned to read and write. ‘Lamb’s Tales’ from Shakespeare was my favourite reading matter. I stole, by finding, Palgrave’s ‘Golden Treasury.’ These two books, and the ‘Everyman’ edition of John Keats, were my proudest and dearest possessions, my greatest wealth.
For me, personally, life in South Africa had come to an end. I had been lucky in some of the whites I had met. Meeting them had made a straight ‘all-blacks-are-good, all-whites-are-bad’ attitude impossible. But I had reached a point where the gestures of even my friends among the whites were suspect, so I had…
Joseph and his mother come from the black kings who were before the white man.
Many have changed so much that they have lost the magic of the dream that carried them on their own bootstraps.
To get where you want to go you can’t only do what you like.
The familiar mood that awaits the sensitive young who are poor and dispossessed is a mood of sharp and painful inferiority, of violently angry tensions, of desperate and overwhelming longings.
With Shakespeare and poetry, a new world was born. New dreams, new desires, a self consciousness was born. I desired to know to know myself in terms of the new standards set by these books.
You can’t walk alone. Many have given the illusion, but none have really walked alone. Man is not made that way. Each man is bedded in his people, their history, their culture, and their values