I was the 5th of 7 children. started class 1 in 1966. Very poor. We lived in one tiny shack for a while, until our Zulu neighbour gave us their 3 tin shacks . The whites were completely raciast, i didnt understand as i was only 6yrs old. School was nightmare , when u poor even the teachers had no mercy . I remember in std 1 Mr Disham taking me to a empty room and filling my hair with ddt pwd. sending me home , i walked thru the thick sugar cane fields crying until I the got to the river. My head was burning and itching. I lowered my head into the flowing water and washed it off, I waited for my head to dry and the school bell to ring so i would join the other kids., so my parents wont notice my pain. luckily i passed std 6. Std 6 was bad , one of the teachers made the entire class walk on our knees, besides one exception. we were all crying. During that same yr i dindnt go to school for 2 weeks, it was a filthy comment the same teacher made. forgiving is ok, but forgeting the pain is impossible. Thanks for the lifes journey almighty god. I survived worse, now i understand the blessings of the light at the end of the tunnel.
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