Honorary White by E. R. Braithwaite Read Free Book Online Page B

Christ, even to meet you we have to creep about in the dark like criminals. We are here in John’s house. When it’s time to go, do you think we can just walk out the door? No. However late it is, John will have to take us out of the city to Soweto where we live.”
    â€œWhy?” I asked, directing the question to John, wanting to hear from him about it. Before he could reply, Molefe said, “Any Black found in the city after eleven o’clock at night is in trouble. The police cruise around in vans looking for Blacks. Only a few house servants or restaurant employees or watchmen are allowed here at night; they have special permission obtained by their employers. For any other, it’s into the van and off to the police station.”
    â€œEven if you have one of those books?” I pointed to the one which Kebo still held in his hand.
    â€œYes. Even if you have the Book. That only permits you to be in the city by daylight. Not at night. It’s called the Book of Life. Here, take a look at mine.”
    He handed it to me. It was a thin group of printed forms stapled together inside a black leatherette cover and arranged alphabetically as follows:
    Page A. Residential address:
    Â Â Â Â Â  Permit to be employed in Johannesburg daily from 8 A.M. to 11 P.M.
    Page B. Reserved for monthly signature of employer.
    Page C. Poll tax stamps.
    Â Â Â Â Â (Poll tax must be paid by June of each year.)
    Page D. Homeland tax stamps.
    Â Â Â Â Â (Rated according to individual’s earnings.)
    Page E. Bantu Labour Health Regulations.
    Page F. Driver’s license.
    Page G. Reserved for Arms License.
    Â Â Â Â Â (This is a mockery as no arms licenses are issued to Blacks. Any Black found in possession of even a penknife is liable to arrest and prosecution.)
    Page H. Personal particulars, including those of wife and children, if any.
    Page I. Reserved for photograph of individual.
    â€œThink of it, my friend,” Molefe continued. “You walk free. Every one of us Blacks, from the age of sixteen, must carry one of these at all times. Without it you have no identity, no life, so you spend your life safeguarding it.”
    â€œDo you know what’s one of the most humiliating acts of my life?” Obie said. “Getting my Book signed each month. It says that it should be signed by the employer, but that really means that any white man can sign it, and the signing is usually assigned to the most junior white in the job. Boy, and do they shit on you! They’re so happy to have someone below them, they make you crawl for that signature. And I crawl, my brother. Me, who would love to take them by the throat, I crawl for that signature. In your book, Reluctant Neighbors, you talk of pride as if it is every man’s birthright. Here the black man has no birthright, not even the pride in being a man.”
    â€œYou asked me earlier how I planned to move around and learn about conditions. I’ll see what the officials want to show me, but I’d like to hear from you and other Blacks, too, about conditions as you see them, if you’d be willing to talk to me and show me.”
    â€œOnly if you’re prepared to come and see us where we live,” Molefe replied. “We can’t come often to John’s house. Too risky for him and his family. Before you know it the Security Police will be on to him for consorting with Blacks. They’ll think we’re plotting something. In any case, it would be better to show you how we live than merely tell you about it. Think your stomach can stand it?”
    â€œCertainly. If yours can.”
    John’s wife and children served some cool drinks and the discussion switched to other things. Mainly writing. Poetry. Now I discovered that the white guest, Brian, was involved in publishing and promoting the works of black authors and poets in South Africa. Without a white person to help, Blacks had no access