Disgusting Conditions Essay
Walking through fields, weeds not kept in shape, continuous grass, each blade out of place - Disgusting Conditions Essay introduction. Aluminium cans dispersed everywhere, I know where I am.
As I reached District Six, that’s what they like to call it, the man at the gatepost allows me past.
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“Beautiful morning isn’t it?” he said whilst pointing at the orange sun set.
“Yes, so how’s your wife…?” I asked, but as I turned to face the large man, he was ignoring me and I could now see why. A young passer by strolled past, the man glared with all his might and the boy shrugged it away like a piece of litter.
“No respect, have they?” he bellowed loud enough for the boy to hear.
“No, they don’t know there place…yet!” I snarled at the boy.
I walked up the past the dock and looked inventively towards the sun set for some sort of inspiration.
“None.” I whispered to myself, I hung my head.
I strolled into the local cafï¿½, and took a seat next to the window just to glance out every once in a while and see the beautiful ocean, covered in different shades of blues, greens and even yellows as the sun shone from a twelve o’clock position. The white linen before me was clean and still hot from the dryers, as I pressed my forefingers up against it the waitress walked by.
“Excuse me can I get some service around here? I’ll have a large cappuccino, heavy on the foam.” I barked at the young woman.
As the woman left the swift smell of coco beans reached my nostrils and I was caught in a trance, the supple smell, I licked my lips, and suddenly unexpectedly there was a young boy gazing at me through the large window. He stood there starring at me, I starred back, with my entire mite, and then suddenly he turned and departed heading in the direction of the tobacco factory opposite the cafï¿½.
As I took the fresh cup of cappuccino into my hand, a large, unwanted lump stumbled into my throat. I knew what it was straight away, that pesky kid, the thought of him looking at my again made me put my drink down immediately.
I starred down at the other tables in the corner and decided to take a sip of my drink and then, just then the room fell silent and as the first drop of the most elegant bean around reached my tongue, something which at the time could not have only been described as a bomb crashed through the window. I acted instinctively and jumped to the ground under my table. As I lay there everything seemed to go into slow motion, each member of the room slowly ran in fear and as the last red petald rose fell before me I saw the little boy outside the cafï¿½ smiling.
“That boy Get the boy, he did it!” he shouted at the top of my lungs.
Why? I thought to myself, what have I done to them? What could I have possibly done to them, to anger a young boy? Do I symbolise something to them. Satan? Perhaps, that I am the taker of lives or even a white man, someone that they can’t trust and hate.
“Yes” I said without realising.
That’s it I thought, they hate me, and they hate us.
I jumped to my feet and ran out of the cafï¿½, as I ran past the guard at the gatepost my feet were hardly touching the ground. As I slowed down looking franticly in each shop window I saw him. Sitting in his type of cafï¿½ eating, and drinking a scruffy unpleasant what looked to be mud. I walked towards the door and realised what I was doing.
“I can’t go in.” I said quietly under my breath.
I pushed open the door and leant in.
“You lad, come here.” I said in my most forceful and angry voice.
As the boy walked over, to my surprise, he was smiling. Grinning as if he was telling a joke.
“What?” he said whilst smiling.
“What, do you have something wrong with your memory boy!” I said whilst looking down on him.
“Why are you here?” he said very coolly, as if he already new the answer.
“Are you crazy lad, you just put a cafï¿½ window through, a white’s only window. But I suppose you already no that.” I said strongly.
“People like you can never let little things go, can you?” He said whilst two larger men stood up behind him.
“People like me? I don’t know what you mean.” I answered.
“You’re a Racist! That’s the only reason why you came here.” he barked at me.
“What does that have to do with this?”
“Because that’s why you came, because you want to get me into trouble. You’re also a taker!”, he screamed.
He approached me, prodding his finger into my chest, almost in tears. The room was getting smaller and I could have cut the tension with a knife.
“White people like you, who take lives, so you can build your multi million pound factories!”, he said crying and with eyes bright red.
“You killed my family!”
“How dare you blame me for your family’s death?” I screamed.
“I’m fed up with all this blame, it’s not worth it” I said as I turned away.
“Blame me for someone’s death” I mumbled to myself.
Suddenly I felt my arm being tugged. I was swung round and stabbed to the left of my heart. I couldn’t tell until he withdrew what looked to be a piece of glass. The room began to get quieter although I could still see mouths moving. My shirt was drenched to my body with blood and sweat. It began to get blurry and people started to depart. As I slipped into unconsciousness I thought, “if only I had stayed in the cafï¿½, on the safe side of town.”