right in the heart of Johannesburg’s
wealthy, white suburbia, and there
were no minibuses. The streets
were empty.
I so badly wanted to turn to my
mom and say, “You see? This is why
God wanted us to stay home.” But
one look at the expression on her
face, and I knew better than to
speak. There were times I could talk
smack to my mom—this was not
one of them.
We waited and waited for a
minibus to come by. Under
apartheid the government provided
no public transportation for blacks,
but white people still needed us to