Rand, Thokoza and Katlehong,
which were the sites of some of the
most horrific Inkatha–ANC clashes.
Once a month at least we’d drive
home and the neighborhood would
be on fire. Hundreds of rioters in
the street. My mom would edge the
car slowly through the crowds and
around blockades made of flaming
tires. Nothing burns like a tire—it
rages with a fury you can’t imagine.
As we drove past the burning
blockades, it felt like we were inside
an oven. I used to say to my mom,
“I think Satan burns tires in Hell.”
Whenever the riots broke out,
all our neighbors would wisely hole