We have been lip-locked in a kiss of death with police for far too long.
The generational curse of dying to learn, will it ever be broken?
We are a people of a cacophony of chants, of screams, of police sirens, of gunshots, of teargas canisters whizzing in the wind, and tumbling on concrete. We can’t breathe!
There’s too much heat in the air.
We scatter. Running blind. There’s too many fumes in the air.
Burning tyres blew smoke signals to the Ntumba family.
Unlike those of the Vatican, where white smoke indicates that a new pope has been chosen, while Black smoke signifies no decision. The tyres burnt in Braamfontein only knew how to blow Black smoke. But they adhere to the universal rule of flames; the darker the smoke, the more volatile the fire.
We are in a faulty time machine of catastrophe. A forecast of gunpowder residue is predicted to drizzle in the atmosphere. We are looping in a vicious cycle of a coin spin.
The heads of a Krugerrand in 1976 – Still we ran in the township streets, bullets were thirsty, they ran behind us. And when they quenched their thirst, Hector was first.
The tails of a Krugerrand in 2021 – We still ran in Braamfontein streets, bullets were hunting the walking, the protesting, the standing by. BANG!! – A bystander’s body hit the floor; Mthokozisi Ntumba was first.
He dodged and dove to no avail. Shot and bled out in the streets of Braamfontein. Students watched on, helplessly.
He waved a white flag - a script from the doctor. But the damage was done.
Strength to his wife, to his children, his family.
Too many Black bodies have fallen during #FeesMustFall protests. I guess something else, either than shell casings, has to hit the floor.
Too many Black bodies have died at the hands of the police force.
They are either a force to be reckoned with, or master wizards and witches in how they bend the same magic they are supposed to uphold.
It is as though a page from their book of spells reads; unarmed civilians, ballpoint pens against hollow points. Unarmed civilians, demonstrating Black bodies as shields to rubber bullets, their lungs and eyes and noses are a natural habitat for teargas. For baton sticks, for Tasers, handcuffs, water cannons and German Shepherd bites.
The same bodies who experience the most excessive force from police. This has been posed to their Minister, Bheki Cele, several times, and it is becoming harder for him to defend the criticism.
Still quivering with the shame of this public murder by a cop, Cele said “someone just went crazy”.
No! Someone did not go crazy; a bystander was shot dead.
Someone did not go crazy; a trigger-happy officer was unleashed on demonstrating students.
Someone did not go crazy; they stepped outside of a medical centre and walked straight into the eye of an ambush.
Once again, fees were traded for a body, and one had to fall.