To you
My-fresh-from-high-school-self

I imagine that by now you are well on your way to Rhodes, your mother’s car overflowing with all the things you think you are going to need. It saddens me deeply that you have chosen Rhodes. You, I am afraid, are just not the kind of black that lasts at Rhodes.

Nonetheless, you have already made your decision and your mother has already bought that duvet-set, so I won’t try convincing you otherwise. Instead I will give you my three lessons in survival, in the hope that they help you through first year.

Go through your clothes once more. Have you any skinny jeans? Tight ones, that cling to your hips; in every colour for everyday of the week. Rhodes is no place for the plain; so get yourself new hair, steering clear from any that says:‘ I was not born with straight hair’ Do everything within your power to look like a magazine, (not Drum or Bona! )... everyday.

The second lesson is what you should do as you approach the gates; lose that village accent! Lie
about your family’s finances and your mother must have a profession (maids are not professionals) “Poor” is not a word you associate with on a personal level, the township exists only for community service. Never speak Isixhosa, Zulu, Sesotho, even when speaking to a Xhosa, Zulu, Sotho person. Most importantly, lose the Mandela accent!

Imperative to your survival is that you avoid any talk of race. Colour no longer exists and racism is taboo. Have several non-black friends who shorten your name because they cannot pronounce it; never challenge their pronunciation. Affirmative action is outdated, name-changes are a waste of money; Henry Potgieter will never be able to pronounce Erhini.

It may all seem beyond the perimeters of your upbringing, but, I am afraid, the kind of black your mother raised is not the kind that lasts at Rhodes. I hope you are a fast-learner.

Yours Always
Your –almost-through-with-first year-self