“Trevor, you’ve been robbed,”
he said. “Why didn’t you chase
them?”
“I thought they were being
nice. I thought I’d made a friend.”
Mlungisi was older, my
protector. He ran off and found the
kids, and thirty minutes later he
came back with my bike.
Things like that happened a lot.
I was bullied all the time. The
incident at the mulberry tree was
probably the worst of them. Late
one afternoon I was playing by
myself like I always did, running
around the neighborhood. This
group of five or six colored boys was