I turned to the white policeman. ‘It isn’t nine o’clock yet, Lieutenant. No one’s broken curfew.’
He grinned. ‘Ja, I know, man, but it will be when I’m finished here and any black bastard without a pass is arrested.’
‘This warrant is for St Johns College,’ Hymie said suddenly. ‘Look, see it says St Johns College, Houghton. That’s the school about a mile down the road!’
‘Don’t play silly-buggers with me, you hear? Or you three will spend the night in a cell down at Central.’
Hymie walked over to the white police officer. ‘Read it for yourself. It says St Johns College, Houghton. That’s not us. Now will you kindly leave!’
‘This is the right place, this is the place in the newspaper, I’m telling you, man! St Johns, that school, does it also teach Kaffirs?’ I could see he was suddenly confused.
‘You’ll have to ask them that yourself, officer,’ I said, not trusting myself to look at Hymie.
The police officer folded the warrant and put it back in his pocket. ‘I should arrest you for obstructing the police in their duty, you know it’s only a technical error, man. They got it wrong when they was looking on the map. This is the school, I’m telling you!’
‘That’s not what it says on your piece of paper, I really must ask you to leave, officer,’ Hymie said, playing the situation for all it was worth.
‘Okay, Jewboy, but don’t think you seen the last of me. I know a comminist when I see one.’ He pointed to me. ‘You too, you and your Kaffir friend. I can smell a comminist a mile off.’
He left with his men and we could hear their boots on the cobblestones as they crossed the school quad.
‘Holy Molenski! That was close,’ I said. ‘What happens now?’
Gideon grinned, a lopsided sort of smile, ‘I think it is finish… the school is finish.’
‘Not on your fucking life!’ Hymie said. ‘I’ll get my old man’s lawyers if they try doing that again.’
Gideon gave a wry laugh. ‘You will be safe but we will go to jail, it is always like so. You are very clever and the magic of the Onoshobishobi Ingelosi is make the change for the school name on the paper. But the police they are bad people, they will not give up so easy, but also I think the big baas for headmaster he will make finish with this school.’
‘Over our dead bodies,’ Hymie said. ‘I’m telling you, he’ll fight for the night school.’
But he didn’t. The next Monday the two of us were called to Singe ’n Burn’s office to be confronted by an officer of the South African police force.
‘This is Captain Swanepoel of the Johannesburg Central Police Station, he wishes to ask you a few questions,’ Singe ’n Burn said sternly. ‘It seems your report to me on the weekend doesn’t quite respond with the one submitted by the police officer who attended your class on Saturday night. I urge you to tell the complete truth to Captain Swanepoel.’
‘We told you precisely what happened, sir,’ I said to the head.
‘With respect, the officer in charge of the visit is trained to report correctly, you can take my word for that,’ the police captain said.
‘Well then, in that case there will be no difference in our versions, Captain Swanepoel. I mean if we both told the truth,’ Hymie said softly.
‘The truth? What is the truth? In my experience the truth goes out the window when emotions come in. Emotions always tell a story different, you take my word for that, Headmaster,’ Captain Swanepoel replied.
‘Captain, both these boys have been trained to observe a situation with some dispassion, even though it be one in which they are involved.’
‘Ja, I mean no disrespect, Headmaster, but I must take the written evidence of an adult police officer against two young boys who were very excited at the time.’
‘Perhaps Captain Swanepoel can tell us where our evidence differs, sir?’ I asked.
‘Well, yes, of course.’ The head cleared his throat. ‘According to Captain Swanepoel you did not co-operate with the officer in charge of the visit and you were abusive in the extreme.’
‘We were not given the opportunity to co-operate, sir. The officer was both abusive and bullying and referred to me as a Kaffirboetie, Levy as the Jewboy and to Gideon Mandoma as a blêrrie stinking Kaffir.’ I looked up to see the beginnings of a smirk on Captain Swanepoel’s face.
‘This is not possible, a police officer of the South African Police Force is trained to be respectful to the public,’ he turned to Singe ’n Burn. ‘People make things up all the time, things the police are supposed to say.’
‘Are you calling us liars, Captain?’ I said.
Swanepoel ignored my question. ‘It says here that you used abusive language to the officer in charge of the investigation?’
‘Yes, I told him to piss off,’ Hymie said, ‘but you have yet to answer Peekay’s question, Captain.’
‘I will answer it later, son, don’t you worry about that,’ Swanepoel shot back. ‘Is what you said not abusive language?’
‘Levy was extremely provoked and as the officer had no right to be on the premises the remark was not unjustified, sir,’ I replied.
‘I didn’t ask you and he didn’t answer my question.’ He pointed his finger at Hymie. ‘I’m asking you again, is what you said not abusive language?’
‘Put like that, yes, but …’
‘No but, man, you admit you were abusive to the officer then?’
‘I admit I told him to piss off, Captain,’ Hymie replied.
‘Then we are in agreement. The first face we challenge turns out to be correct, why must I not believe this report is a correct statement of what happened?’
‘I say, that’s not fair rules of debate, Captain Swanepoel,’ Singe ’n Burn demanded.
Captain Swanepoel turned to face the headmaster. ‘I am a police officer, not a school teacher, I look at the evidence, I do not play games.’
‘We have forty-two Africans as well as our own chaps who will confirm what we’ve said,’ I protested. I’d heard the warders interrogate prisoners and they would use the same technique as Swanepoel was now using on us.
‘Ah yes, forty-two hostile witnesses. Africans do not have the same idea about truth as a white man. As for the other white boys, we are reluctant to take evidence from juveniles.’
‘You still haven’t answered my question, Captain,’ Hymie said, his teeth clenched.
‘You know something, son, sooner or later your type of person comes before the police again. I will remember your face.’
‘Please! Answer our question, sir!’ Hymie shouted.
Swanepoel laughed. ‘When we meet again, I will answer it then, you hear?’
‘What happens to this report, Captain Swanepoel?’ Singe ’n Burn asked.
The police captain sighed. ‘Because of the technical error in the search warrant I must very reluctantly withdraw this report.’
‘May I please have it, Captain Swanepoel?’ I asked.
Swanepoel laughed again. ‘The South African Police do not give souvenirs, if you want some souvenirs, go to the Easter show.’
‘I’m delighted to hear that’s the last of it,’ Singe ’n Burn said, obviously relieved.
‘No, Headmaster, it is only the beginning. You can consider yourself very lucky we got the wrong school name on the search warrant because today I have come here as a friend. If we come again next Saturday night and we find that this wonderful school you have here is teaching black communists then we will be forced to make some very unfortunate conclusions.’
‘I really do protest, sir!’ Singe ’n Burn was suddenly angry.
Captain Swanepoel grinned. ‘These days it is not very hard to find a black communist.’ He looked at Hymie. ‘Or even a white one,’ then at me, ‘even more than one. When blacks want suddenly to have education you can take it from me, they up to no good, somebody else or something else is behind it.’