Emphaty

The boy in this picture feels, missused. He thinks that he can be a football player, he wants to do something fun but he is stuck with making footballs just to earn money. He dreams of playing football and he wants to enjoy himself. Sadly he can't because he need the money from this job to support himself.

I stood in that cage, starring at my friends being taken away. They poked them, scratched them, starred into their mouths like we would with goats. There was white men and women standing around starring at my fellow tribesman standing on a platform. There was a man wearing strange clothing, he was pointing and yelling strange words then they sent them to one of the white men. When it was my turn, I was scared and furious at the same time. I struggled all I could to free myself but to no prevail. They sent me to live with a white man. I refused to look at them in the eye. They spoke some strange language that I soon learnt. They would insist on calling me ‘Big Joe’, I told them my name was Bafana, but they screamed ‘Big Joe’ at me. I was confused and decided to ignore the issue. A few days later a group of white men tied me by the hands and hung me to a large piece of wood. I struggled, trying to break free. They whipped me over and over again yelling to me that my name was ‘Big Joe’ I refused to let them change my name, “Bafana” I yelled, and they whipped me some more. I was in so much pain, My arms were sore from hanging, my back was bleeding because of the whips, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Big Joe!” I yelled then I say he was happy with himself and walked away. My other tribes man who were also force to serve the white man came to my aid. They said I should not let them control me, I am Bafana of the Zulu tribe.

Part II

Soon they forced me to work on some sort of cotton field. Is this why I was taken here? Is this why I was taken away from my family? Is this why I was tortured on that boat, to do work that the white man is too lazy to do? My hatred for them grew and grew. My thirst for vengeance multiplied.

I could not stop, even if I sat I would be whipped and punished. We worked to death. Literally. Men died from either punishment or famine. I do not know what they make the women do. Do they put them through as much suffering as us, or are they here just for breeding?

The thoughts continued to flow through my mind as I worked. I do not even know if this is work. It might be just for their merriment.

They force us to sleep in holes. They sleep in luxury, in comfort, and we sleep in the dirt, and in too much pain to move. When the white man wake up, they do nothing but watch us do their work. What do they do all day? For all I know we do the work. We suffer. We are the ones who allow them to live in the house they own. And what do we get? More pain and suffering. I do not know if this hatred will ever go away.

Diary Entry No 3

I have been to hell. I do not know what they want to do with me, I have heard they want to use me to do their work. I can not move, they have locked me to the floor. People are groaning and everywhere I see people with vomit and their face and their feet bleeding trying to break the locks. I almost went mad laying there.

They forced us out of our cells once, they hit us with cold…cold water. It stung so bad. They made us jump up and down for some reason, and I saw the captain. He saw us scream, struggle but he did nothing. He walked away like it was nothing, and let the men continue to torture us, like animal.

I had many nightmares on that ship, many involving the white man. I imagine myself killing the white man, freeing my people. And I dream about my capture again, and again. Every time I do, I hate them even more.

They barely feed us. I scrap the last bits of their slop just to survive. People die all around me they die of hunger or disease. Some wish to take their own lives if they could. I want to go home, home to my tribe, my family, my life.

Diary Entry No 2

I was walking around in the savanna looking for something to do. I was not armed. Then I saw my own tribesman in the bushes and he wasn’t wearing tribal clothing, he was wearing the white man’s clothes. They started chasing me with these heavy chains they wanted to capture me with. I started to run across the savanna.

I was furious my own tribesman would betray me. He helped the white man after all they have done to us.

I ran and ran, hoping I would lose them our they would get tired and stop their attempts. But soon something caught me from the side. I looked but I already knew who it was.

It was the white man. They tied me to the chains and took me away. Why? I do not know.

Diary Entry No1

I am quite angry with my father, he doesn’t believe I am mature enough to go hunting by myself. I have gone with enough times to know how to do it. Now am I stuck with looking after the goats, especially after that incident earlier this week.

I was looking after the goats and then I was so bored I played a little with the goats. While they we eating I jumped on from behind. It scared all of them, they scattered all over the place. I couldn’t get all of them back. I lost three goats. My father punished me severely I was given a very bad whipping. Some other things I do in the tribe is fish, it is quite a easy job. I am also wondering when will I go through my initiation to become a man. I am coming close to 15 and I do want to be a ‘man’.

 I am a Zulu tribesman. Our people are famous for our fighting. My father has trained me since I was a small boy so I can become a warrior. We fight with a spear and a shield and we have already fought against the white man. My father told me once quite some time ago. He told me it was the battle of Isandlwana. The British were trying to take over the Zulu and the had this sticks that would make a loud noise and kill us. We charged in the ‘bull horn’ formation and we destroyed the white man. It was one of the greatest moments in our history. Sadly the white man returned with more exploding sticks and defeated us.