Kaffir Boy Journal #10 On Racial Relations

I need to stop dreaming that I would soon go to America and school there. For crying out loud it has taken forever for the schools to reply, and I still haven’t gotten a scholarship from tennis. Anyway, my own race won’t give me a pass book. He enjoys acting like a white person. Hahaha well doesn’t he look like a fool trying to do that? Anyway even though I don’t want a passbook, I need it to get a job and help around the house. Since America is not responding to me fast enough, I might as well stop being selfish and get a job and help around the house by paying for my sisters school fees, food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I have this person who I was going to work for but he preferred that I go to his father’s office at Barclays Bank and apply there. I don’t even need a work permit. This guy is white, and he told me that his place is nondiscrimination. Blacks could train to be a manger there and with my brains, I could have an advantage at getting it because of my knowledge. The best part is that I get over 500 rands a month and I won’t feel bad because even the whites get the same as I would if I worked there. If I were to work there, I would be surrounded by whites and blacks, TOGETHER. There is no such thing as whites in this area and blacks in another. We get to eat together, as a mixed race. This one building is like apartheid doesn’t exist at all. Even though I was just involved in attacking whites and their laws, I think wouldn’t mind staying there at all. I could pay for everyone’s school fees, by food that would last a month and still be able to have change. Working at Barclays bank maybe is better than going to America. Anyway the guy who was to offer the job for me gave me a letter that allowed me to get a pass. The guy, who gives you the permission to get a pass, didn’t really want to give me the pass. But in my head I laughed at him. I was sent to a post office to get the pass, and it was the worst degradation of my life. The blacks looked hopeless and desperate. The black policeman standing at the gate was very men to us cursing and gave sjambok stabs. I started a conversation with a guy who was in the line also. I don’t mind getting to know people I don’t know, even if you are white, black, yellow, and red, whatever. He told me how he’s been coming here for a very long time and has had no success each time. Now I’m scared. What if I don’t get my pass? Well maybe he didn’t get his pass cause he was a high school dropout. But still I don’t know. I hope everything goes well.

Kaffir Boy Journal #9 On Racial Relations

The bloody whites are really pissing us off even more. We have so much hate toward them, that even though I said not all whites aren’t as bad, but this and the fact that those who are against the apartheid are not actually doing anything about the government and what they have done. If they were really not against us, why in the world did they not do anything about this? Instead those whites ran away. This really brought back hatred against the whites, and all of them. We’ll my grandma’s boss Mrs. Smith, is still helping get a scholarship in tennis so that I could go school in America or a really good school here in South Africa. But at this rate, I don’t want to stay here anymore. I have to get a scholarship to get out of this hell place. I didn’t make it in the newspaper for having passed my exam. When I went to discuss this issue with the principal, another student waiting to do the same thing shouted that the whites were trying to down play them. And that they didn’t want the rest of the blacks to succeed and be part of the fight against the White laws and Apartheid organization group, and I could see how that could fit in with why I didn’t make it in the newspaper even though I passed all the subjects except Tsonga. Ugh everything was just going wrong in my life. Am pretty sure in others too, but this was an opportunity to travel and spread what was going on in the ghettos of South Africa. Sometimes I wonder why blacks were the ones chosen to be slaved and mistreated and under authority under whites. Why did the whites get to have everything they wanted and the blacks were here to suffer? I also wonder was that the reason we came into this earth, to suffer. This God that my mother believes in, the white God why wasn’t he doing anything about this mess? Oh then I remembered, he is the White man’s God. How could I forget such a matter? Wow I can’t my mother is worshipping a white man’s God who is against blacks, since we are suffering even though I know people have and are praying to him. He isn’t answering our prayers but is answering the white people’s prayer. Ugh I hate this world. I feel like am living in hell.

Kaffir Boy Journal #8 On Violence

These few months have been hectic. Though I was part of a lot of the things that were hectic, it was worth it. To just fight for my country and for the freedom for all blacks is all I want, but the stupid whites don’t want to back down. Only they don’t know that we won’t back down either until we get our freedom. No one wanted to get violent but they want to kill us and guess what? We are going to kill back. They don’t know that a lot of us want to kill whites, and make it a massacre. We blacks will fight till the end. We might not have all that the whites and black policemen have but we already know how to make bombs to blow up at least a 3rd of the police and have machetes and things to defend and kill. If a white was right in front of me now I would kill’em. That is how much they frustrate and anger me. One of my neighborhood friends was killed by the police. I thought to myself why they would kill such a person. This same person was the one I used to call “my wifey” when me, her, and other people played house or something. It was so painful that I lost her. I was so pissed off at those bastards who killed her and who killed other people. In general I was pissed at all who were against the blacks, including the blacks who were part of the outburst because they turned against their own people. Violence is the only thing that will knock sense into this people. A peaceful demonstration won’t help anybody, and the whites would just sit and watch or stand and be ready to fire. And so they would be ready to fire, we will have to fire back. We can’t just stand there and protest while they are shooting because really, that won’t do anything because they will shoot every single one of us and nothing to free the blacks that survived the brutal killings will be done. I really don’t mind killing these bloody bastards for killing innocent people. Anything that goes against the government I am so down for. I am pretty much down for anything. I’ve killed people before in these protests and I’m not afraid to kill another one or two hundred more policeman. Ok, ok I’m exaggerating that I’ve killed those many people but I have killed the opposition and like I said, I’m not afraid to do it again.

Kaffir Boy Journal #5 On Violence

All the hate, bitterness, and frustration finally came loose. There was an explosion on Wednesday, June 16, 1976. Students protested about all black schools had to learn Afrikaans instead of English. Oh did that trigger people big time. Already people hated learning it in elementary school because it was so hard and most of the people failed in that class. There were about ten thousand people protesting. It was a peaceful and orderly. People were saying, “To Hell with Afrikaans, We don’t want to learn the language of our oppressors, stop feeding us a poisonous education and we want equal education not slave education.” There was a protest rally at Phefani High School, were there was policeman lined up with tear gas and rifles, shotguns and other things. The people stopped before getting at the place and stood there protesting. Suddenly police opened fire. People thought it was fake bullets until they saw small children falling to the floor like swatted flies. There uniform was soaked with red blood. People began running, some tripped and fell and were crushed by people running for their lives. A 13 year-old killed was shot on the forehead and another guy came and carried him to a place that was safe even though the guy that was shot was dying. The guy carrying him had so much anger, hate and defiance and so did the rest of the blacks. When I read all that happened, I also grew hate and anger. I even cried. A few white men died to during the incident. But I still had hate for those who killed the blacks during a peaceful protest. Other students were crying coming from school, and other people cried as people came from work. From reading the newspaper I knew that I would never be the same again. There was a guy who started saying things in disbelief that it actually happened. He said that the policeman started opening fire without any warning. It was like a shoot to kill situation. Small defenseless children were dropping left and right by these horrible people. They murder innocent people. My hatred for blacks began roaring back.
At school the next day, we had an assembly the air was tense, and the moods were somber. The principal said we had to continue with learning. Then some of the students started shouted that there shouldn’t be any school while people are being murdered in Soweto by white people. The students also didn’t want to be forced to learn the Afrikaans decree like the other students who protested. So the school started forming groups to plan a peaceful rally. We painted placards that condemned Bantu Education, Afrikaans, and Apartheid. We demanded that the government stop the killing in Soweto. As we picked up other students from other schools, Police trucks and vans pulled up. The police told us to return home or school but most of us stayed. The police started firing. Tear gas every where. Me and David ran back to school and were told to go home immediately because police were raiding schools. Rebellion broke out almost everywhere.

Kaffir Boy Journal #7 On Violence

The violence continued. Other place in South Africa broke out in protests too. It spread to black ghettos in other parts of the country: Pretoria, Springs, Daveyton, Kwa-Thema, Durban, Port Elizabeth, and Cape Town. Schools, clinics, government buildings, beer halls, stores belonging to whites, Indians and Chinamen, PUTCO buses, Coca-Cola and other delivery trucks went up in flames. Black schooling came to a virtual standstill because of all that was happening. Since there was no schooling for blacks, the student was better able to plan marches, demonstrations were held, and the black work force was urged to stop working in solidarity with student grievances. All we need to do is work together, ALL THE BLACKS IN SOUTH AFRICA so that we could bring down the evil system that the whites made up. “Unity is strength” We can defeat these whites. Policeman succeeded in turning the black work people against the students because the black people needed money. They couldn’t afford to stay away from work. In Soweto, students were hacked and stabbed to death by policemen. To some extent the same thing happened in Alexandra. To prevent the violence from spilling into the suburbs, where whites were buying shotguns and rifles, Alexandra was sealed off by armored vehicles and soldiers. Like I said before, things will get worse. More deaths will continue, more fighting will continue until the government finally backs down and listens to what we have to say and make the effort to change their system or else we will force our way to keep fighting. People were dying left and right. The government reported that the situation happening in the ghetto will soon be under control. I highly doubt that. We won’t back down until whites give up. The more blacks were murdered, the angrier we became and the more hate we had, to continue this battle cry. Black schools were closed indefinitely: that is if they weren’t already burnt up. A lot of blacks, who were trying to stay alive, sold themselves to the whites. New laws developed and they angered blacks even more because they were against the blacks. I was possessed by the bloodthirsty mobs, mindless of my safety and unafraid of death. If there was anything to do that was against the whites, I participated in. We learned how to make petrol bombs since we had no guns. One day I joined a mob that was burning down the stores and butcheries. One of china man I worked for owned a lot of the butcheries and stores around the place. The guy and the family fled the first day the violence broke out. The china man used dogs to protect his shops, but the gangs threw poisonous meat to the dogs and brutally hacked the dogs into bloody pulps. I then became aware of what we were doing. The destruction we blacks were doing. But I only felt like that for a moment and continued to do more destruction. There were anger and hate faces everywhere. If it weren’t for the army it would have been a white massacre.

Kaffir Boy Journal #6 On Racial Relations

Everyone got together to go against the law about all black schools having to learn Afrikaan. When I say everyone, I mean the blacks. We are tired of not being equal and having to learn something no one wants to learn. We didn’t want to continue learn slave education. Neither did we want to be forced to. When policeman pulled up, the policeman that fired shots at us were our own black people. The people of the same race as other blacks shot at us. It’s like they don’t even care about us. They have been hypnotized by these white people to be on their side. What kind of people are these? I started to begin to hate those black policemen like they were the white people, because they went against us. I bet their families are suffering but they still go against us. What have these people done to us? If only whites weren’t so demanding in doing their things their way, we wouldn’t be like this. There wouldn’t be violence, anger and frustration about who owns South Africa. If we could just share it between whites and blacks, and I’m not saying share it like the blacks get the ghetto poor areas and whites get the rich and fancy areas, but equal shares of everything. We could fix up the ghetto and put better homes. Let me just tell you now, nothing will get better unless the government listen to us too and not just their own people. The government needs to act quickly before people of their own kind start turning against their people completely. I’m pretty sure South Africa could afford for that to happen. Actually I don’t even know anymore. People could probably be glad to go against their own, well at least not care about their own people anymore. Oh this country is so said. We can’t even get our voices heard without being killed by orders from the government or whoever ordered to shoot at us. I’m so angry just writing this down. As much as I love my country, I hate whites who are in it. Why did they have to come and take South Africa away from us blacks like they don’t have enough country they’ve invaded? Whites are so selfish. They want everything for themselves. Ugh, selfish bastards. I hope that our ancestors curse these people so that we could have our country back.

Kaffir Boy Journal #4 On Racial Relations

I was cursed by people who were envious of me. My on race had cursed me, the people I helped willingly. How could these people do this to me? Jealousy! Jealousy is what triggered these people. At least that is what the witch doctor told me after my mother took me to go see because my eyes all of a sudden swelled up to a point where I could barely see anymore. Before I went, I thought right then and there where I was becoming blind and that I wouldn’t be able to see or read and do most of my favorite things ever again. I was scared. The thought of not doing tennis anymore really was painful. I loved tennis and every time I got a chance to play it, I took that opportunity as quick as possible. Now I was going blind? Just because I have knowledge, my own people went against me. This is not even the first time.
The first time was when I started getting threats from my own people for hanging with white people. They said I was a traitor. They didn’t like the fact that I played tennis with whites, communicated with whites, or laughed with whites. It’s like I triggered something in them to make them say they will kill me. Oh was I scared or what. It is not like I went against my people. I just like communicating with people, no matter what color they are. I know who I still am, where I grew up and who my people are, and I will never forget that. But anger is not really going to help anyone either. It really just shows that they are winning and will always win because they always get inside our skin. But what these people need to realize is that instead of becoming anger at every single thing whites do and blaming all the whites the same, they need to stand up say something to those they feel are really the ones who are angering them. We can’t blame everyone for our problems even if they are the cause of them. It’s up to us to forgive and move on with our lives. Blacks sometimes disappoint me; they try and blame anyone they can even if the people haven’t done anything. I think it’s because they have no actual person or thing to blame and so they just look for anyone. Maybe there isn’t really a problem; maybe they just want to blame every one for every little thing. Sigh, if only things would just get better. If only everyone was equal to do anything. Race laws are just making us go crazy, making us do insane things.

Kaffir Boy Journal #3 On Violence

I saw someone being rubbed and then killed. This time it was not in Alexandra but in Pretoria during the broad daylight. People are so bold these days. That means that other crimes are committed like rape, killings, and robberies anytime of the day. It was so sad because it can happen to anyone if they careful. I even have to have at least someone with me when I come to P But this time I wasn’t as traumatized as the other time when I saw the other guy killed brutally by thugs. I guess it is maybe because I’m getting order or something. I mean I’m not saying that I didn’t have that much of a heart like last time; I’m just saying it wasn’t as painful. I’m pretty sure people are killed every single second day in and day out. I bet that most of the deaths are cruel. Murder even. I like adventure and when people get beaten up but only on Television, or just a game for fun. When it’s for real it’s much more scary, and intimidating, I guess you can say am weak but weak in the sense that I do care about people’s lives, and not just my own. I joined out of my gang because of the horrible things they did to people. Like the head guy of our gang beat up a guy to death over a girl who he later got pregnant and left her. To me that was and is the most selfish, irresponsible thing a guy can do, especially leaving the girl after he got her pregnant There was a time when there was a fighting match that I was in and then the most near death experience flashed before my eyes. One of the members in the group was hit in the eye by a rock and it nearly hit me in the face but I ducked. He eyes was squashed and blood spat out everywhere. From that day on, I told myself that I would never be in that group again. Anyway, just the things they do and did are and were extremely ridiculous and immature things I used to think were cool. Now I’ve realized how stupid I was to skip school and join them in their stupidity acts. Life is just amazing in the sense that people are crazy. So am I but I would never go as far as most people.

Kaffir Boy Journal #2 On Racial Relation

Who would have thought that White people would fight for black’s rights or to fight against slavery? Not just white people but American white presidents. They were against slavery, at least a few of them were. The rest were black people fighting for their rights. And here I thought whites would never fight for a different race other than theirs. Anyway the things they did really touched my heart a lot. Presidents went to war to fight against slavery. That is a really big step. If only the white people here could just maybe abolish Apartheid because it is not helping anybody really. At least that’s what I think. Why is there separation in the first place? Who came up with the idea that blacks are not equal anyway? Whoever it was, I would really like to give them my piece of mind. With all that I’ve seen with white people, I would have continued to think whites had no heart and that they were just mean people. But that is not even totally true. Even though you would see black kids with torn clothes, dirty torn shoes and kids were dirty I feel like things will get better soon. The white’s world was like paradise compared to the ghetto. In the white side of world, you would see ladies in all white things, from a white hat to a white dress, and shoes. It was like they were angels or something but soon we will look like angels too. Maybe someday I can go to America and spend around that Black South Africans need help. We need people to know what is really going on down here. Because if someone doesn’t nothing will change anytime soon since we blacks are not doing anything either. Oh I hope tennis will get me far so that I can travel the world and help my country some way or the other. Maybe I should write a book and make sure it gets to all the countries in the world. Or maybe I will become a leader of something, not necessarily this country since we are not allowed to anyway. My dreams and goals really keep me going everyday otherwise I would have no hope whatsoever for this country at all. Either way, I just hope I get a scholarship so I could go to college and learn harder things and maybe, just maybe, would I attend college in America.

Kaffir Boy Journal On Racial Relations #1

Wow Pretoria is like a dream, like there is no reality at all. But the thing is it is reality but doesn’t seem real. It was like there were barely anything called apartheid it this part of South Africa. Blacks interacted with whites and whites interacted with blacks. I liked this part of South Africa. Every time I visited this place, I didn’t feel like there was separation anywhere. It was comfortable to be here. Is only Alexandra was the same as this place. Since I’ve been playing tennis, I’ve been able to go to places in Pretoria where there were tennis tournaments against whites and blacks. It was interesting to watch. Arthur Ashe played against a white guy and crushed him. It was nice to look up to Ashe because unlike the other black American, Ashe is actually realizing and making the effort to help stop Apartheid. Even though Ashe is confident when walking through the white areas without fear, and white girl admiring him, he still makes the effort to do something about the apartheid. I also admire people like him. He inspires me to go and tell the world about what goes on in the Ghetto. I doubt the white people know what is actually going on. I also doubt that they will really know and make a difference anytime soon no matter if Arthur Ashe announces it in his speech. But it’s always good to try anyway because we never know what will happen. Maybe if I tell my mother to go and pray to her and the white man’s God to help the blacks in the ghetto because my mother’s prayers seem to be getting answered so maybe it just might work. While I was at the tournaments, I talked with white people like we’ve been talking like I would talk to my black friends in the ghetto. Guess what’s even better, the guy who is showing me some tennis skills is white and we talk like he is my best friend. I don’t even call him baas. It feels good to feel like there is no such thing as apartheid when I visit the ranch. But when I go back to Alexandra, it’s like I was in a dream the whole time and there is Apartheid everywhere. It kills me deeply that different places in South Africa there are friendly whites then you come here then there are mean whites who care nothing about us blacks. If only I could take my mother, sisters, and brother with me to Pretoria, but that is a risky thing because the bus ride there is like a nightmare. The buses are extremely crowded, people sit on the roof and get crushed and die or they stick out through the window and also die. Just taking my family on this bus is just scary and risky. Anyway I just hope I can go to America and tell about the life style here so that a difference could be made.

Kaffir Boy Journal #8 On Hope

Hope is what is keeping my in school right now. Hope is also all we have too. Hope is what is keeping us alive. Without hope my mother wouldn’t be wasting her time trying to keep me in school or take me to school in the first place. If I could get through school without any trouble things will look good for me. Also if Mrs. Smith could teach me tennis, maybe I could play with other people, and then maybe I could get a scholarship for college. I don’t know but maybe something big could happen in the future. The opportunity to meet Mrs. Smith is a privilege because if my grandma and I could get to know Mrs. Smith and her family, she could help me become somebody. Or maybe get me into tennis competitions because just the thought of tennis seems really fun after soccer. Or maybe she could get me into a soccer competition. Anyway hope is what helped my mother have patience and get a job and my grandma to believe that her boss would allow me to go with her to work. At first I was wondering why my grandma and mom were excited about getting me to go to work with my grandma. Well it was because they have hope that if I went to Mrs. Smith’s place, they would benefit me in some way. Before I agreed to go, or was forced to go, I completely refused. I didn’t want to go to a white neighborhood filled with white people everywhere. I even tried to runaway but my mother stopped me giving my two opinions before I went outside. She told me I either go with my grandma to her boss’s place or I go outside and don’t come back, and with that said I agreed because I knew my mother wasn’t lying. My grandma was so happy that I finally agreed to go with her to her job. My mother believed that if I went, I would get hand-me-downs once I got personally with Mrs. Smith’s son. Well basically any old things that the son didn’t want anymore. It was a one in a lifetime opportunity and I had to take it. I guess the education opening opportunities was true. Who knew my opportunity would come in so quick. I honestly didn’t think I would get any opportunity with white people. But now I am having a little bit of hope.

Kaffir Boy Journal #7 On education #2

What is with this family and education? If my wife’s children was raised and lived in the tribal reserves, they would hate education and know the truth about education just like me. Education is just a way to get into black people’s mind to teach how to be white people’s slaves. My father told me all kinds of stories that made me believe that education was the tool to get white people to take things away from me and other black people. I told myself that I would never get an education because those white fools won’t control me all my life. Not one bit. White man’s education is worthless insofar as black people were concerned because it prepared us blacks for jobs we wouldn’t even have. Now tell me, does that sound like a useful time to get an education. NO! I think my wife has some witchcraft in her because she thinks education will get the kids a better life. I was trying to tell her that it was a waste of our money and time to even take our kids there but she didn’t listen. What makes her think the Whites will change their minds about blacks getting fancy jobs and a fancy house? That is what I call nonsense. I really don’t have money to waste for paying for Mark’s education. Neither do I have time to waste arguing with my wife about education. I even told her that she should find work not to pay for his education but for other things like food and groceries. I actually don’t want my wife to work because of my reputation. I would look ridiculous if the woman I owned was to work. I really just don’t believe in schools for her to take Mark to school. I tried to knock some sense into her by beating her up. I was kind of drunk but I know what I was saying and doing. She deserved it because she disobeyed my orders. Wife’s these days disobeying their husbands because they are not in the tribal reserves. If only they knew how we men are still in charge and we own these people. Anyway one day she’ll see that it was a waste of time to send her children to school. I say her children or the children because I don’t consider them my children. If they were my children, they would obey my orders and practice what I believe is the way of life, not their mother’s beliefs. They are just living in a lie. They will come back crawling to me when everything goes bad. Let us just wait and see.

Kaffir Boy Journal #6 On how my family looks like and our house

What was going on today? The day was such a sad mournful afternoon. It was like the world was coming to an end. I had no idea what was going on. I had just come from school. The paper guys were shouting ‘KING IS DEAD,’ I was wondering what was going on, I decided to ask a boy who was standing at a gate. I thought to myself, another white man was behind this mess. He told me that a preacher and a leader who was assassinated by a white man. I was also told that this man lived in America fighting for black rights, that me ferocious toward white people. It seems that the cause of all black people was cause of the white people. It’s a battle between races. When will it stop? When will killing one another stop? Why are the white people the major part what happens to us blacks? I really hate this world. It’s always seems that nothing is getting better but just getting worse. I even considered suicide because it seemed everything was just going wrong in my life. As I was considering suicide, I had thoughts run through my head like, would anyone miss me? Would anyone know that I was even gone? What would happen if I had died? Would people bury me or just throw me away. But before I could even finish what I was about to accomplish, my mother came in. She saw that I had a knife in my hand. I looked at her and she had tears in her eyes. I felt so ashamed and sad that she saw me like this. She told me everything I needed to hear to never consider suicide again. She told me things like if I died, she would miss me, my brother and sisters wouldn’t have anyone to look up to as their big brother. I had a job to do and that was to protect my brother and sisters and let them look up to me.
I felt like I was needed and I felt special. My mother always had the right things to say to me and that’s why I love her so much. She is the best mother someone could ever have. I don’t know where I would be if she didn’t come at that minute that I was going to end my life. I hope that I don’t disappoint her In the future. I am so thankful of my mother.

Kaffir Boy Journal #5 On the day King died

What was going on today? The day was such a sad mournful afternoon. It was like the world was coming to an end. I had no idea what was going on. I had just come from school. The paper guys were shouting ‘KING IS DEAD,’ I was wondering what was going on, I decided to ask a boy who was standing at a gate. I thought to myself, another white man was behind this mess. He told me that a preacher and a leader who was assassinated by a white man. I was also told that this man lived in America fighting for black rights, that me ferocious toward white people. It seems that the cause of all black people was cause of the white people. It’s a battle between races. When will it stop? When will killing one another stop? Why are the white people the major part what happens to us blacks? I really hate this world. It’s always seems that nothing is getting better but just getting worse. I even considered suicide because it seemed everything was just going wrong in my life. As I was considering suicide, I had thoughts run through my head like, would anyone miss me? Would anyone know that I was even gone? What would happen if I had died? Would people bury me or just throw me away. But before I could even finish what I was about to accomplish, my mother came in. She saw that I had a knife in my hand. I looked at her and she had tears in her eyes. I felt so ashamed and sad that she saw me like this. She told me everything I needed to hear to never consider suicide again. She told me things like if I died, she would miss me, my brother and sisters wouldn’t have anyone to look up to as their big brother. I had a job to do and that was to protect my brother and sisters and let them look up to me.
I felt like I was needed and I felt special. My mother always had the right things to say to me and that’s why I love her so much. She is the best mother someone could ever have. I don’t know where I would be if she didn’t come at that minute that I was going to end my life. I hope that I don’t disappoint her In the future. I am so thankful of my mother.

Kaffir Boy Journal #4 On violence/Abuse

There are junkyard children who smoking benzene and glue. These boys are only my age. They are only 11, 12, 13 year olds. These children are runaways. They had run away from home and school. So what they do is smoke benzene, get involved with prostitution activities to get money and go to movies during the day and sleep in abandon cars. I don’t know why but there life seems really interesting. Their life is full of adventures and I love adventures. Their life seems so comfortable. They don’t have to worry about being beaten for not paying their schools fees on time or having their books at school on time. They can do whatever they want whenever they want. But I don’t like that they are abusing their bodies with smoking on some dangerous stuff. I don’t think I will ever do that in my life. The way they look after they smoke those things is kind of scary.
Oh my how could I forget the nightmare I saw. I was walking home one evening when there was a gang of men walking toward this guy who had a bag full of things inside. I ran for cover and I saw all the bad things that could happen. It’s not like I haven’t seen people dead before, but the way this guy died is what was so painful. Why were black people killing other black people? Black people’s anger is what is taking over their minds and body. Anyway the guy who died was attacked by stabbing and cutting of the body by a knife. I heard the man dying saying “please don’t kill me, I have kids at home I have to support,” but the men were just laughing and even more triggered to kill him it seems. I was so traumatized. When I got home, I could not even tell my mother what I just saw. Then I fainted and woke up the next morning. But when I woke up, I still could not tell her what I saw, it still couldn’t come out of my mouth. The though of black people killing other black people to make themselves feel accomplished, it was just very heartbreaking. I think it’s because they feel if they see someone with more things then they do they maybe feel they should go away from this world. I just hope this thing of blacks being poor ends soon. My mother told me that that same night I saw the nightmare, several other people died too.

Kaffir Boy Journal #3 On Racial Relations

I looked at them and they looked backed. It’s like they never saw a black kid before. These white kids look so clean with there nice school uniforms and shoes. If you went to the ghetto, it was the total opposite. You would see kids with torn clothes, dirty torn shoes and kids were dirty. The white’s world was like paradise compared to the ghetto. In the white side of world, you would see ladies in all white things, from a white hat to a white dress, and shoes. It was like they were angels or something. When we reached to my grandma’s boss’s house, I was so amazed. Everything was so nicely kept; their property had flowers leading to the doorsteps it was just a wonderful sight to look at. The white lady’s son came home from school I think and was shock to see a black kid at his house. He kept rubbing in that us blacks couldn’t read and write and that he didn’t want me to be at his house. He really made my ego drop because how he boasted about reading a book in English when I couldn’t even read a page. Then he should me around and I was so amazed at all the comic books he had. As in my mouth couldn’t close because of all the comic books he had. Then I heard the white boy ask his mother if she bought him his new bike, I was also shocked at that because the boy already had to many things. And when he didn’t have any idea what to do with his old things, he would just throw them away. It’s just amazing how this boy has so many things but the blacks in the ghetto hardly have anything nice or anything at all, and these whites would just throw precious things to the blacks away.
It’s just amazing how two kinds of people [blacks and whites] in one country have totally different worlds. One side of the world is a nice fancy well kept place filled with riches where the other side of the world is dirty, smelly, and poor. I still ask myself why those worlds have to be different and separate. Is it because the whites want all the fancy stuff to themselves? Or is it because they don’t want us black people to be happy like them? What ever the case may be, it seems the whites were being selfish. But not my grandma’s boss, she was really nice to me. I really liked her. She had such a warm welcoming greeting and it made change my mind about other white people, it seems that some whites are not as bad as black people say they are. If I didn’t come with my grandma, I would have continued to think whites had no heart and were just mean people. But that is not even totally true. I’ve also noticed that in white schools, they teach the kids that blacks are meant to be white people’s slaves and in a hierarchy form kind of thing, the blacks will always be on the bottom while whites are always going to be on top.

Kaffir Boy Journal #2 On Education

I’ve always wanted to go to school, but I was not allowed to because my father thought it wasn’t necessary for girls to go to school. My dream till today is to go to school. I’ve always wanted to be as smart as other kids who went to school. To go to school always seemed so fascinating to learn different things. If I went to school, I would been able to get a decent job and at least provide better for my family, because my husband is not doing much of it since he finishes half his money on gambling and drinking. I believe education is the only way to open doors where none seem to exist. All the opportunities education could give people like us. The only thing is that those who grew up in the tribal reserves, were taught to believe education was a waste of time and just a white man’s education that was there to teach us to be white people’s slaves forever. It’s the key one needs to open up a new world and a new life. Since I wasn’t allowed to go to school, that didn’t really help me in the future. It was so hard to get good jobs because I didn’t have basic skills like read or write and didn’t have my paper, so I was always rejected when I was looking for job. Education can get people to talk to you, listen to you and help you: those who wouldn’t even bother in the first place. It will also get black people anywhere in the white man’s world. Education can end the poverty, hunger and suffering. If only my oldest son would think the same, and believe me. He is influenced by the junkyard boys who are barely ever sober. I don’t want my son to become like them. I believe my son has a bright future. I’ve also hoped that my mother’s boss would allow my son to visit their home so that maybe the white people could grant him with a future. I also hope that I will be able to keep my new job so that I could pay for my children school fees and everything else needed for them to get through school. Oh how I hope I will be able to provide for Mark to go to college. If he could get through college, then he would be able to achieve anything because I believe by that time, the world would have changed God willing. That is my prayer to God that my children finish school and become somebody. My other prayer is that God will allow my children to be able to take care of their parents when my husband and I become old. Oh how that would be so nice. We wouldn’t have to continue to worry about where the next meal was coming from or who was going to bring the food home and what would also be good, is that my children are successful and not unhappy but content and content with how they are living.

Kaffir Boy Journal #1 On Education

“Education will open doors where none seem to exist.” That is what my mother says as she was explaining to me why I should go to school and stay in school. Like kids that live in the junkyard, I think school is a waste of time. The value of education was never emphasized where I lived. We are taught to steal, fight and rebel. We are not taught to read, write, or spell. I was under the influence of the ten-, eleven- and twelve-year-old gangsters. I told myself that I would never go to school. After my mother gave me a lecture about why I should go to school, I considered promising my mother that I would stay in school. The things that she told me that really touched me in my soft spot were that she said she would take her life for me. She also told me that education is key to open a new world and a new life for me, that I would be to be better off than my parents in the way that I would be able to get a decent job and make money for food and whatever I want. The fact that my mother always wanted an education, made me want to go to school to make my mother proud. These things are what pushed me to stay in school. Who knew that I was going to stay in school and come out to be the first in my class? Even though our school is strict on things, and harsh punishment, I still came through and stayed in school and kept making my parents proud. I started getting kind of skeptical about school after a while though. My father got all this confusion in my head. My father would tell me how education is simply a white man’s to learn how to be their slaves. I was also skeptical because even though I was first in my class, I didn’t necessarily know what I was actually learning. My father’s believes didn’t help me either. I had to choose for myself about whether I should believe what my father was saying or just keep to what my mother told me. Oh was I confused in my head of mine! Everything just seemed everywhere, not organized for me to understand things clearly. I’m on thin ice of just giving up school but then I don’t want to let my mother down. She means so much to me. What will she think of me if I didn’t go to school anymore after I promised her that I will? Maybe she’ll lash me or tell the principal to lash me. If only those people at school didn’t beat me for not bringing all my materials in and paying school fees on time. I mean it’s not like I can control that stuff. If I have them I will bring them. I think those people are just really mean. Maybe I should skip school.

Pg. 123 my thoughts

I agree with the quote, “Education will open doors where none seem to exist.” I agree with this quote because without education, where will you find a decent job? Everywhere in the world makes sure one is educated to have a good job. It’s good that the world is like this because it’s easier to communicate with others, understand procedures, and one is able to understand all kinds of people. Education gives you many opportunities in life. You can be all that you want to be. You can even be something you never in the world thought you would be.
If you didn’t have or get an education when you were young, it is obvious that it will be harder to get a good paying job because for those who worked hard in school or even just went to school have the better chance of getting the spot first than someone who didn’t get a education. It’s just how life works. Education is very important. Without what can you be in life, who can you be in life? Also, education is an opinion now. If you don’t want to be educated, then you won’t be anybody, and if you do want to be educated than be prepared for surprising and exciting opportunities coming your way.

Kaffir Boy Journal #7 On different religions

We blacks believe in different things than the whites. We believe and worship tribal and ancestor gods, and the whites believe in the Christian God. Since my father forced our family to believe in tribal and ancestor gods, we weren’t allowed to learn about the other ones. When the evangelist were explaining about their God, it was quite interesting to hear. The stories from the Old Testament and New Testament fascinated me the most. If you couldn’t tell already I like action, and the Old Testament had a lot of action in it. People who believe in the tribal gods believe that they are the ones who protect them from bad spirits. They also do sacrifices. People who believed in ancestor gods for many years don’t even want Christianity. They say it’s a white man’s god and that they have their own. (Black man’s god) They say that they don’t need Christ. They believe that their gods are the ones who provide for them. Those who believe in the Christian God believe that Christ is their savior and that he always and always will provide for them. They also believe that if you believe and trust in Christ, you’ll go to heaven. My mother decided to become a “Christian.” My father doesn’t think Christianity is useful to black people, along with other people. How would know what is useful to one if the person didn’t try it out? Anyway I guess you can’t force anyone to do want you want them to do. What I think is that, the evangelist was shoving the teachings down people’s throat. Maybe if they tried teach people about Christianity and not scare them or whatever. But like I said to me the Old Testament and the New Testament were good stories and that I didn’t really care about the religions to much. Maybe it’s because I don’t really understand them or maybe because things don’t make sense to me. I really don’t know what it is but something just doesn’t seem right between both of them. So I didn’t really bother with them. Honestly Christianity seemed less strict than the tribal laws. Our neighbors, who are Christians, seem to live better than those who are tribal. They don’t seem to run out on food, they have better furniture than us, they would have better comfortable beds, they would even have radios.

Kaffir Boy Journal # 8 On Being Mistreated

One day I was playing with some boys in the neighborhood, when a poopman came picking up people’s waste. We would then start singing a song about these people who collected poop. Then these men started chasing us and I was caught. I was taken to my front door and was forced to get naked and get into a bucket of poop and other nasty things and who knew what was in there. I was told to start marching in it and the stuff would splash on my body. The nastiest thing was that as I was marching, the poop splashed on my face and a spot splashed me on the lip. It was so uncomfortable. After laughing at me and making sure I learnt my lesson, they told me to get out and then before they left, they spilt the poop right at our door and left. When my mother came back, I cried and told her exactly what happened. She lectured me afterward telling that I shouldn’t ever make fun of them because it’s not like they had a choice with that job. She also said that I shouldn’t ever make fun of people who have unpleasant jobs. From that day on I never made of people who had bad jobs. That day was such a nightmare. Boy haven’t I learnt my lesson? It taught me a lesson. It taught me that not everyone will be blessed on the earth. I still have the creep about that day. I’m telling you you don’t want to make fun of those who do unpleasant things; because you’ll regret that you did when you get caught. Trust me! At that time there is no other choice of things you can do. I had to remember that life for blacks was just horrible and there was nothing else you could do. Those who were arrested had to do hard labor which would drain people’s energy. It also seemed like they weren’t feed nicely either. I wondered how long this thing about black not treated equally or given fair opportunities would last. What if it lasted long enough where I couldn’t get a job either? What if I had to stay poor all my life too? These thoughts made my heart sink. I didn’t want to live the way I do now, without food and without a nice place to sleep.

Kaffir Boy Journal #5 On weird behaviors

Why was everything spinning? Why was there fire and beast looking things around me? Why was it that I was the only person to see these weird things? Why is it only happening to me? Maybe I have a bad spirit. Maybe the witches have put a curse on me. Either way I couldn’t understand what was happening to me and I just know that I’m scared to death when things like these happen, but no one can stop them from happening. I would have episodes were I feel like I’m being choked, or the room would spin like a whirlwind then fire would come from gyrating objects which developed huge mouths and began laughing at me. It was a roaring laugh that would make my head feel like my head split in two. These things would enlarge, stretch, and shrink, into all sorts of grotesque, shifting monsters trying to swallow me alive. Then all of a sudden, these scary looking things would burst into flames. I would tell me mother that there was a fire but she would tell me there wasn’t. I would try a duck every time there was a red hot plank from the ceiling coming toward me and still my mother couldn’t see all that I was seeing. My mother poured cold water on me then everything began to stop spinning and the fire was gone. It was just a horrible and terrifying episode. I just hope I don’t have to go through again. The one where I felt like someone was choking me wasn’t really an episode but I really felt like someone was trying to choke me alive. What felt like a human choking me was actually poison gas from the brazier my mother left in the house over night because it was so cold outside. I inhaled so much of the gas, it was clogging my airways.
I’m not the only one who has weird behaviors. My mother had one too. My mother found a box with a dead baby in it. My mother screamed and she would shout “get away from me, Satan!” My mother would back away from the box like it was a ghost, and she would tremble from head to toe. My mom stood there pointing to the box like a zombie unable to say a word, her face a mask of indescribable horror. I thought it was weird but would probably do the same if I was the one who found the dead baby girl in a box.

Kaffir Boy Journal #6 On learning new things

I ran as fast as I could to go and tell my mother that white people were here in the black area. My mother told me that I didn’t have to worry or be afraid because these white people were evangelist, people who preach the teachings of the Christian God. Oh did I have questions for my mother about the Christian God and the teachings. These white people were trying to convert the tribal people from worshipping tribal gods and ancestors and to only worship Christ. My dad was so quick to hate these evangelist people and would think these people were telling lies. He told us never to go and see these people anymore, but my mother, brother and sister and I went anyway. Of course our father found out and threatened my mother never to go back there. My mother tried to convince my father that maybe that if she prayed to this God, they’d have a better life, but my father didn’t want to hear it. I think my mother and I had something going on with this Christian God, but the more I learned about this God the stronger I was with the ancestor gods. I didn’t know the difference at the time really. I just knew that Christianity was a bit more interesting then the ancestor gods. Religion wasn’t a big thing for me though it seemed so to my parents. Ever since my mother converted to Christianity, both my parents differed in many things, but they did agree on one thing; that the cause of most families difficulty if witch craft and work of voodoo. Anyway we all got to learn new things, but it was a matter of if we really believed what was taught. If I was to choose between Christ and ancestor gods, I would choose Christ because I hate the tribal rituals and strict laws. Honestly it’s a bit nice when my father isn’t around because he has gone to work or has been arrested. Being forced to do something you don’t want to do is really annoying and that’s why I like it when he goes. My life is a little bit more relaxing. I don’t have to worry about being beaten by my father because I didn’t do this or because I did this, you know? Wow I sound kind of mean saying what I just said, but it’s the truth.

Kaffir Boy Journal #4 On Racial Relations

Wow! Whites have such beautiful houses and the places they live look so clean. Compared to us black people, these small shacks, dusty grounds, poop lying everywhere, rats and bugs eating us and our cardboard beds. There life seems so easy and they don’t have to worry about food running out at all. South Africa is the White South Africa. The reason us blacks are in these bad conditions is because of these white people. Blacks don’t like the white and the white don’t like the blacks. We both have our different worlds, and they seem to be living the best one. My father hates the whites so much. My mother I’m not quite sure because she doesn’t seem to be against them but I don’t think she is for them either. Blacks are not supposed to pass white property and whites don’t come to ours unless they are evangelist, or policemen. We are superior to whites and whites are inferior to blacks. Only blacks were to have passbooks at all times or you were arrested if you didn’t. It was only meant for us, according to a law created by the whites. It is easy for whites to get jobs but black people have to suffer and are denied all the time.
When blacks need to go get their passbooks in order, it’s like it can never be done because of something that they didn’t have or something of that sort. So people were always arrested and forced to do labor in a prison. Life is just sad for us blacks. While blacks are suffering because they have nothing to eat, the whites would waste food they could last two days for the blacks. Whites couldn’t marry blacks and blacks couldn’t marry whites because it is against the law, but very few would ever try to get married. Black people are so unfortunate. Every single day we have to worry about what is going to happen. Our souls are never at rest because we are being chased after policemen, or we have to worry about if there will be food for the families. Whites wake up each day with breakfast, lunch, and dinner in place. Never do they have to worry about being chased, or have to look for jobs to provide for their families because of course they have jobs, at least a lot of them do. If there is a so called God, why did he make whites more precious then blacks? How come he gave them the most beautiful things in life? Why?

Kaffir Boy Journal #3 On Violence/ Abuse

When my father was arrested and didn’t return after a long time, we didn’t eat much because he was the one who had the job and would provide for us. My mother began drinking and heavily too. She would get angry so quickly. She would get into fights with other ladies over whose child had been pooping all over the place, or who had the right to draw water first from the communal tap in the middle of the yard. As here personality changed mine began too. I got really cranky. I picked fights with other children and abuse my brother and sister. I got out of control. I was trying to find ways to distract myself from my hunger and sadly I chose to do it that way. Life was rough, and I was going crazy. Missing meals almost everyday is the worst feeling. It turned me and my mother into a monster. I became greedy. I would cut pieces of food to share with my brother and sister but I would cut them the smallest pieces. Then when my sister told on me, I tried to play a mind game with my sister to give my sister two smalls pieces of food then tell her that I had one and she had two small pieces but I would one big one, and that made her feel like she had more than me and she would keep quiet. I was smacked for the first time by mother because I had a bad mouth. Then after I was told not to go begging for food, I ignored that and went anyway. My mother once caught me and I was dragged back to the house and smacked and my mother tried to beat me with a switch, luckily she missed and I tried to runaway to anywhere in the house because my mother locked the door. Was I scared or what? Eventually my mother stopped trying to beat me, but instead she told me a scary voodoo story about witches poisoning the foods. At that moment my stomach began to hurt. I thought I was going to die. It’s funny how one can be when food is not in the stomach everyday. One can become very self-centered and do some crazy things. Who knew that my father would keep getting arrested? Since my father kept getting arrested, meant less food every time. It felt like we would never get the same amount of food because things just kept getting worse and worse.

Kaffir Boy Journal #2 On Violence/ Abuse

I can’t stand my father’s tribal laws and I can’t stand him. My father would force me to practice his rituals. If I refused to do what was to be done in practicing the rituals, I would be beaten. One time at dinner, I was beaten by father because I spoke during dinner. According to the tribal laws, you are not to speak when you are eating. You are to be completely quiet. My father started screaming at me fuming all kinds of nasty statements. As he was coming toward me I ran to my mother because I knew what was to come. My mother was told to bring me back to my father. As we reached the kitchen, I was pulled away from my mother and he lashed me. I couldn’t even finish my meal afterwards. I sobbed and went to bed. I was so angry I told my mother how I was going to do bad things to him when I grow up. I asked my mother questions like why he beat me because other children weren’t beaten by their fathers. According to my father’s tribes, he wants me to grow up like him. That made feel all defensive, because I never want to be like him. Even though I was being disciplined for going against a rule, being beaten made me hate my father. I then decided that I wasn’t going to do my father’s rituals when am not at home because I would be teased. One day my father heard me speaking like the rest of the kids and asked me questions like “who is the ruler of this house? Whose son are you? What language do I speak, which one I should speak?” and then asked me “then why do I hear you’re speaking other tongues; are you a prophet?” I was then threatened that if I wasn’t speaking Venda, my tongue would be cut off. I couldn’t even answer because right after he asked the question I was lashed again. As other punishments, I was to do more rituals and I really hated him more for that. Why was my father forcing me to be like him? Am nothing like him. I will never be like him! Anyway as long as my father was there, I had to do his stupid rituals. I started wondering why though we weren’t in the tribal reserves that he still wanted to practice the rituals. I had a break from the rituals when my father was arrested; I mean I didn’t like the fact that he was arrested but the fact that I wasn’t forced to do the stupid rituals.

Kaffir Boy journal #1 On Violence/ Abuse

What I saw today was horrible and terrifying. Ladies prodded with a truncheon. These women were naked too. It was so horrible. Then I was beaten by a policeman for refusing to tell him where my parents were. At that moment, I saw death flash before my eyes. I was shoved to a corner and I was brutally kicked in the ribs twice; then after a few blows, I was harshly picked up from the ground and shaken so that the policeman could get me to talk. I remember being verbally abused by the guy, asking me why I didn’t open the door when I was told to. First of all I had no words for this policeman beating me. Thoughts ran through my head like why is a black policeman beating a black person not only just a black person, but a kid?! This made me afraid of South African policeman for a long time. Anyway moving on, the policeman found my father and took him with them because his passbook wasn’t in order and as they were leaving I was threatened by the same police that next time when they are raiding I better open the door when they say to. I was quite traumatized trying to think straight again after all that happened. Our neighbors went through similar situations and seen some inhuman things and it was unfortunate that both parents or both man and women were found during the raid. It’s good that we are not as raided as often anymore. We have a little bit of peace. We didn’t have to worry about when the next raid will come, or about the police coming to find my parents for a while. I think the policemen are used to making the blacks suffer. It’s not like they were not sad while beating me or messing with the naked ladies that were being arrested. I don’t think these people have a heart whatsoever. Bribes were the only thing that could get you from being arrested. I like to watch action but I don’t like when it’s done to me or my parents by an authority. After awhile, my father began getting arrested again and again. More violence’s occurred, loneliness, hopelessness, and helplessness all because of these policemen. There were making every single persons life miserable. No one had peace anymore because you were either beaten, abused, taken away, left alone or other bad things. It was only the beginning of these bad things.

Mark Mathabane's article

I do agree with Mark Mathabane’s article because the things parents feel the things they think should be censored to them, could probably get to the teenage reader’s better than if the story didn’t have those types of things. Like Mathabane said in the article, “books aren’t written with comfort of readers in mind,” I agree with that completely. I bet authors don’t care what people will think when they write a book or an article whatever the case may be. Mathabane really seems to know what he is doing and he knows why he put all those things in his book. One of the reasons was because he wanted us to know the horrible events that took place in the apartheid. Parents can’t hide reality from there kids because of the world today and the media, so why try and censor it? Like Mathabone said, “Many students have connected powerfully with the story Kaffir Boy”. Without those events in the story, it wouldn’t make any difference from any other book about horrible events that took place unless there were things that reached the reader deeply. The Kaffir Boy probably wouldn’t have made a big impact without intense scenes. I also agree that censorship is not the solution, maybe in some movies but I don’t agree with censorship in books. In any case it is better to read about it then to see it played out. If honesty is what is scaring parents, then that makes all the reasons for their children to read the book and learn the truth instead of not knowing about it at all. Writing needs all sorts of things to get across the reader or to let out what you feel. The things you should probably include if it helps, is language, describe scenes, clarity, and directness.

my thoughts

What I thought about the video was that it was ok. The questions that were asked in the video were quite some hard questions, even I couldn’t give a good answer to it or I would have the same answers as the people worldwide had answered the question. I agree that we are in battle with our sinful nature and God’s spirit. I don’t think I agree with what Abraham’s theory was, “Sick people are made by sick nature”. What I think it should be is humans are sinful people because we rebelled against our creator. Honestly I don’t know why I don’t agree with what Abraham said, it’s just doesn’t feel accurate. The stages that the teacher was telling his class, was a good way to demonstrate states of man I thought it was excellent because I like to see things demonstrated visually. What I thought was sort of confusing was the Dualistic and Monistic concept thing. Are they supposed to mean the same thing or completely opposite things? Man’s moral state and Man’s needs, I thought was quite accurate, at least to me it was. What Romans 8:13 and Colossians 3:5-10 says “Put to death your earthly nature”, is the hardest thing to do, even as a believer. When the movie got to the people’s theories, it got kind of boring but in the beginning of the video was pretty good. In all the video was not as captivating as the first one we watched. It was good to know what people think about mankind and evil in the world. Different views are always good to know.

Complex images

I think a ghost symbol can be of a more complex image if you think about it. Being of a ghost in the Joy Luck Club means that you are someone who disrespects and goes against what is right for themselves. A ghost symbol of a more complex image doesn't necessarily mean that they are dead and haunting someone, but meaning that you aren't of existence. Having family problems could contribute to the complex image of a ghost because the family members could over exaggerate situations.

Virtues about Waverly Jong

The character Waverly Jong is someone who is quick to learn things and can easily hide her thoughts from other people. She is very smart when it comes to chess, and in person. She is able to strategize when it come to chess too. When she plays chess, she completely clears her mind from people around her and focuses on the game. She is very talented and just a successful person in chess. For a young girl like her she has the potential of an adult.

Waverly Jong’s virtues in weaknesses, is that she is so competitive like her mother. I also think Waverly’s weakness is that she can easily hide her thoughts. When it comes to having to let out what she feels maybe hard, then she would keep them inside and it will bother her later on in life. Another weakness could be that she runs away from her problems like with her mother being boastful. I also think that Waverly’s weakness is caring about what other people think about her and her decisions.

Virtues about Waverly Jong

The character Waverly Jong is someone who is quick to learn things and can easily hide her thoughts from other people. She is very smart when it comes to chess, and in person. She is able to strategize when it come to chess too. When she plays chess, she completely clears her mind from people around her and focuses on the game. She is very talented and just a successful person in chess. For a young girl like her she has the potential of an adult.
Waverly Jong’s virtues in weaknesses, is that she is so competitive like her mother. I also think Waverly’s weakness is that she can easily hide her thoughts. When it comes to having to let out what she feels maybe hard, then she would keep them inside and it will bother her later on in life. Another weakness could be that she runs away from her problems like with her mother being boastful. I also think that Waverly’s weakness is caring about what other people think about her and her decisions.

The Joy Luck Club

The stories I have read, most of them have to deal with finding out things about their mother, and losing them during the war in China against Japan. A lot of them have tragic stories to them. It either has to deal with finding out that their mother had another husband, or the mother is treated as a “Ghost” and so on. It also seems that in each story, the families don’t have a lot of happiness. Or their mother’s had to abandon their children because something that went wrong. The stories have either something to learn from or gain from. For example, in the chapter Scar Anei- Mei learned that one must let go of pain (p. 48) .There is also finding who the person is and who they are not, so it seems through these tragic stories at the end they will get to find out the truth or who they really are. A lot of these girls can handle what they learn and what they find out. Some girls would commit suicide or even just not care and those ways not the right ways to handle such situations. A lot of the story shows that they have to respect people, or they are “useless” or “disrespectful”. The stories so far all connect in their own way with similar story background in it, all because of the war that happened in China.

My thoughts about lesson 2

My thoughts about lesson 2 were that it wasn’t as captivating as the first lesson was. I still learned as much though it was really hard to concentrate and let everything the guy was talking about stay inside my head. Knowing what is right and wrong is really hard. Knowing the truth is the hardest, at least to me. I think that what we think is right to us is the “truth” and what seems wrong to us is “completely wrong”. The similarities and differences between God and the Devil are quite interesting. The interesting part is that they are both trying to influence us in to believing what is true and what are lies. The only bad thing is that we cannot differentiate between the two. It’s like we need visual truth laid out for us instead of just believing, and the one that usually gets us of guard from the truth is the devil’s side from a believer’s view.
Honestly when I want to find the truth about something and it’s being laid out right in front of me, I usually still believe the wrong one. It’s so hard to know the truth and know what is wrong, and really frustrates me because later in the future I realized I believed in the wrong thing all along. I agree with the truth project packet on page 2 under the topic “Worldview” it says “Lack of a personal, biblical worldview in America- We fail to see Christianity as a worldview that governs every area of life.” I think it’s true because if you think about, everything we go through is in the bible, and God controls everything that happens, but we still don’t know the truth. Anyway God allowed this to happen for a reason so we can’t really question him because he is above us all in everything.

My thoughts on the Truth project

What I thought about the truth project video was that it was very deep and I got to learn so much in just one episode. For example, why Jesus came into the world? I originally thought it was because he came to save us, but it was actually to “testify to the truth”. Honestly that would have never come to mind first if someone asked me Why Jesus came into the Earth? I really wouldn’t mind sitting in a class with the person who was speaking because not only was I not falling asleep, he also got my mind wondering what I actually know about God and Christianity. I also thought that a lot of the world doesn’t really know what truth is, when they were going around asking people, which was quite interesting. I honestly think there are certain types of truth and maybe that’s why we can’t define the word. When I answered the question about “cosmic battle” I answered “a fight between cosmic.” What it actually meant was the fight between truths vs. falsehood. At least that’s how I understood it.
I don’t think I agree with what insanity meant in the Webster Dictionary thing. I think insanity has different branches. Such as losing touch with reality, and going crazy, and etc. That’s my opinion though. As I’m watching the video and the speaker is asking a question, I answer to in my head and when the students answer aloud we have the same answers but it’s not what the speaker is usually looking for and it’s funny because we all have the same answers to questions we think are always right. But it’s good to learn from more from what u guessed. Other than that I really thought the first episode of the truth project was quite well and deep in certain topics.

Anxiety Activity

In the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, Will, the main character, usually doesn’t confront his issues, he chose blindness when it came to issues between him and another person. For example, in one of the episodes, his father, sort of abandoned him but when he comes to spend time with Will, and take him on a trip just the two of them, the father usually has excuses of how “business has come up” the last minute and that he has to go but he will come back for him next time. That was always the excuse that he gave Will, and Will would usually say “yeah next time then.” As the father left, Will broke down in front of Phil- Character, and expressed all his anger out. I think the way he handles that issue isn’t healthy. I think this because; the relationship is sort of fake or not close. It shows first that the dad is maybe ashamed of Will. Will feels this but can talk to his dad about it because they don’t have a close relationship as much as Will wants them to have. The connection is probably lost because the dad left when Will was a baby. If they both talked about how they felt, the relationship would be stronger.

Anxiety

First of all, anxiety for my understanding is worrying too much, and can lead to depression, sickness, and even death. Anxiety could be connected to stress and vice versa. Thank God there are ways Anxiety can be treated. Ways I can deal with anxiety is maybe looking at what is making me worry too much. Then maybe look for ways to help reduce the anxiety. After maybe avoid the issue that is worrying me. Finally, I would hopefully let go of that issue. Maybe if the last one doesn’t work, I would just cry it out. That usually makes me feel better. Or even be around friends who make me smile. I think the best way too overcome anxiety is to be around people who you enjoy, but then maybe that could be someone’s anxiety. Some coping strategies are maybe laughing a lot, having a better self-esteem, sleep, and try to relax yourself. The way I resolve conflict b/w me and my friend is by talking it out, mostly, if I don’t do that, I avoid them. I try to act mature about the conflict, and try to be as reasonable as possible. Some people cry, some people get extremely angry, or even don’t care if they are involved in a conflict with another person.

Journal responce

What I thought about the ending of the story was, “OH WOW”. I thought this because of how Oedipus stabbed his eyes. That was so disturbing, just imagining it. It was sad that Jocasta killed herself too, because of the things she found out. Back when Creon and Oedipus were having their argument in front of the Chorus, the way Creon was most reasonable, most believable and most in control, he should have been the one to be King instead of Oedipus. I also thought the way Creon didn’t seek revenge on Oedipus because of the way he acted but instead, I think Creon took care of Oedipus’ daughters. I think how Oedipus was begging to be banished from Thebes was sort of harsh on himself because I think he went through enough brutality by stabbing his eyes. Over all, the story was very interesting and not as hard as I thought it would be. At the end I felt a bit of pity for Oedipus because of the things he did, like stab his eyes, and made the effort to connect with his city even if he was of higher people (?). Most of the leaders today wouldn’t really do the things Oedipus did even if it was a fiction story.

The mother bird and her baby

One morning, a baby bird was woken up by loud voices in the tree next to his. He got up straight to see what was happening and saw other birds learning how to fly. He asked his mother, “Mom, can I go learn to fly with the other birds? No my darling, you can’t go and fly with the other birds because that’s advanced drawing and you haven’t started any classes to go to advanced class.” Answered the mother “But I’ll tell you what, I will teach you beginners flying.” So the mother and her baby went to the lowest part of the tree to practice.


“The first step to flying is….umm (thinking to herself) what is the first step? Oh yes! Step back a bit then I will count 1 2 3, then you will start running. As you get to the end of the edge jump and flap your wings till you get high enough from the trees. Then you can relax and cruise through the wind.” “Ok mom, I’m ready.” said the baby bird. “Ok darling. 1 2 3 GO!” So the baby bird gets to the edge of the tree and jumps. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Cried baby bird. Kadoosh! He falls to the ground. He kept trying and trying and soon the mother got so tired she fell asleep. As baby bird was trying again for the last time before going back to the nest, he jumped of the edge and found himself not falling or even close to the ground. He shouted “mom, mom, look I’m flying!” Baby bird was flying high along with the advanced flying class, as if already passed the advanced class.

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hi its viola