Europe Scholarship

Thankfully my 1st trip to the big city wasn't when I was still convinced that the trees were the ones moving instead of the vehicle, for my focus would have been on unrealistic things and hostile ideas.I Was 11 years old and travelling with my aunt to her madam's house in the city(Pretoria).
I endure the alcohol breath from the man I'm placed next to in the taxi. The goal is to grasp as much as I can to share with my friends;the one privileged to travel owe the experience to those who aren't. The drunk is my tour guide."Those tin house are called squatter camps,the government doesn't want to build houses for those poor people",I hold my breath to every word he utters and nod in fascination and remorse.
He explains the R75.00 our driver pays at the toll gate as "government robbery", I still don't understand and I decide to save the questions for my aunt who is sitting in the front sit. The taxi roars off from the gate and almost comes into collision with a truck driven by an old Afrikaner man. They exchange words despite the age difference, the concept of "respect your elders" is disregarded when different races are involved. The travellers take our driver's side even when it is evident that it was his fault for not looking before changing lanes. A conversation starts in the taxi of how "these people"still think they own us, they re-live disturbing apartheid events. Those who disagree just keep quiet, my aunt is one of them.
We pass a bunch of beautiful sunflowers. I marvel at their beauty and wish I had a camera. "All they know is to plant this nonsense and build for their stolen cattle while our people live on the streets or small township houses. Mandela killed us with his so called reconcilliation.We should have avenged". I disagree with him in my mind as I remember the taught mantra "respect your elders and never talk back".
Mr Mandela's name is tarnished. Is it booze/ a lifetime scar talking? I am joining them; Iam angry at their anger. I decide that I will learn something concrete when I return home; something based on facts,not on hurt and intoxicated feelings.
Brenda Fassie's "Vulindlela" song calms the hostility as everyone's mood lights up, we all sing along. In opinions we are devided but music brings us together; we are South Africans.I sing shyly while chewing on the Mopane worms (Sun dried caterpillar) my tour guide shares with me. The song ends on a high and happy note and I doze off on his shoulder for the remaining 3 hours of the drive.