DIARY
Oh yes, a tie. I rush to the wardrobe, luckily enough I asked Auntie to make it for me yesterday, so all I have to do is put it on.
I can feel my heart pounding as I get into the car. My mind starts wandering. How is my day going to be? Am I going to make any friends?
“ Seat belts on,” she interrupts my thoughts. Then she starts to drive mechanically.
We are stuck in a massive traffic jam. Cars stretch ahead and behind. We stay in the same spot forever. We check periodically to see if the cars ahead of us are moving, which they never do. All we can do is sit and wait.
“ I’ m sorry Zama, looks like you will be late for your first day,” my aunt comments.
In almost an instance, she jerks the steering wheel and makes her way to the soft gravel road, reaches the end of the road safely, then makes a turn and rockets through the beaming sun.
Finally, at school.
“ Have a nice day Zama!” she says as she drops me off at my new school St. Francis high.
A strange and inexplicable feeling blooms in my heart. Then a feeling of worry and fear as I get sight of the imposing and gigantic school in front of me. It looks so majestic in its maroon and blue colors. Somehow those colours remind me of my previous school-Sibuyeni High schoolexcept that it was built next to a dusty gravel road. Its maroon colour had turned to brown due to the dust. The schoolyard is quiet. No one in sight. I reach into my bag and take out the school map my aunt drew for me over the weekend.
With anxiety on one hand and fear on the other, I reach for the door knob, opening it slowly. Everyone’ s eyes are on me as I walk into the room. Without paying attention to them, I walk straight to the teacher and asked if this is the right class. With a soft voice, he answered,“ Yes.”
His voice comforts me a little. He gives me a sheet called Mathematics Syllabus, which I would never get in Sibuyeni because we didn’ t have anything like that. Then he asks me to choose where I will sit. I pick the seat closest to the door instead of the corner where all the girls are sitting. I’ m surprised I’ m supposed to pick a place.
In Sibuyeni we had assigned seats, so I never needed to worry about that. The teacher continues,“ open page 11 of your textbooks”, as he switches on the overhead projector. At my previous school, we didn’ t use the technology we have here. We had to take notes as the teacher spoke.
“ That is the end of our lesson today,” says Ms. Dlamini as she walks out of the classroom. Everyone marches out in groups of two, four, five, eight. I steal a glance around; the classroom is empty.“ I can’ t wait for this day to be over,” I mumble as I reach for my lunch box.
I pack all my books and dash out of the classroom.
“ Hey new girl, wait up” I stop and turn back. Two girls move towards me.“ What’ s your name?” asks one of them.
“ I’ m Zama,” I answer bashfully.