At Spitzkop Mines where I school. I recount one incident at a new school the following year: Our teacher, Ms. Nkosi was dictating some Zulu words. Three big men in suits and ties entered our classroom. The one in a blue Jacket spoke, “ Hey boys and girls, I don’t want to waste your precious time. I have come to take a register which is needed like yesterday in Pretoria for planning purposes by the education department”. He looked in his file and said, “All Zulus stand up”. This did not make sense to me immediately. As I sought to understand the instruction, a quarter of the classroom had risen. So the message was clear to my classmates whom I became mixed with a few months ago after relocating from Topernite Bantu school at Spitzkop to Pieter Mabuza L.P. School. The inspectpr began to count, pushing each of the children down as he made a count.Every kid was seated again. He wasn't done. “All Shangaans stand up”. One preety girl whom I had noticed to be withdrawn in class stood up. The children uttered soft yet audible silly laughs as the Phiri girl rose to be counted. The girl cursed, “Nx, masimbeni nina zinja”. The elders pretended they had not heard the reaction from this girl who up until she uttered ‘masimbeni’, I had been attracted to. I registered immediately in my head that I would not show my affection to her because I thought there was something fundamentally wrong for girls to utter such disgusting words as shit, and I knew I could never repress this every time I was with her. The man entered something in his file and spoke,“All the Xhosas stand up”, and he counted, and pushed the few down,one by one,as he entered his data in his black file. My heart was racing. I was panicking and had to think fast. I had never been asked this at Topernite Bantu School. I had to find an answer. I was going to stand up with the Swazis. Yes, my classmates would not be suspicious. I had heard from uncle Mshumayeli’s wife at Spitzkop that in her country, Swaziland, there were a number of children who looked like me. She said white people married black people in her free country and produced beautiful children like me. I used to politely leave her when she started her comparisons which I had not requested. How useful her history lesson was for me now. Yes, I would stand up with the Swazi children, and these township children and the inspectors would know why I was a Swazi... “All Swazis stand up”, the man said. Almost half of the class rose to their feet. I was one of them. The children looked at me. The expression in their faces said it all. I was deceiving them, the teacher, the principal and the inspectors. I was lying to the world. Some were even picking each other on their shoulders and whispering to one another... You cannot fool children, a thought came to me. No, their knowledge of the world was still limited, I consoled myself. They had not lived in Swaziland like my malumekazi. I was prepared to educate them on this one and erase their doubts which were staging a battlefield in my head. Something was wrong. The inspector had lost his count.The Swazis stood up again. I stood my ground.He asked other groups,and I was no longer paying attention. My head was spinning...I was brought back to the classroom reality I was choosing to escape as the girl seated besides me repeatedly hit me with her skinny elbow...I heard the school inspector this time: “All Coloureds stand up”. I hit the girl with my elbow as she kicked my leg with her unpolished, black bucanner shoes. The inspector repeated his call, “All Coloureds stand up.” He was looking in my direction. I looked away. The children looked at me. I could feel their stare even from the back. There were no coloureds in class, so the men took their files and left us to use our precious time to read our books. I knew I had an important assignment for my big brother Prince. He had to tell me who were coloureds because I had never heard of them...