I got picked up, and dropped in jail yesterday. Oh how I love the South African Police Service for allowing me to make my annual trip to the slammer. Once again I kick up a fuss and collect another street cred stamp. How'd this game start?
Going out with friends and doing utterly ridiculous things. Apparently I assaulted some dude for kicking around my cheap ass Nokia calculator. Following this I'm told the bouncers kindly escorted me out of Nula. I tried to apologise to the dude outside the club and was given a thick slap by life's assistant also known as the Gypsy. I was told that I was able to make the getaway to the dude and we did shake hands.
A walk home. A cop car. The back of the cop car. The police station, where I stand on my own in surrounded by a few cops. After refusing to sign the admission of guilt thing a majig again, they tell me to stop swearing. The tazer dude touches his rod to my shirt twice over and the shock and mixture of alcohol make me scream "Fuck I'm sorry! What's my charge?". This little sequence has a few of them in stiches at this point. Right there and then I realise these guys just made me their court jester. That's why they picked me up. They weren't trying to serve or protect me, pigs just get so bored of not doing their jobs that they drive around picking up blacks to entertain them in this city it seems. When they finally do get bored of me they throw me in the cell where i'm left for seven hours.
Sleep comes kinda easy. I wake once or twice as the door opens delivering a Cameroonian beanie and umjita who's hustle is to drink a bottle at the closest begging spot. I'm not really worried at this point yet, probably the dutch courage still inside me. I wake up to see a young coloured cat standing in his boxers smiling at me and asking if I also got thrown in for no reason and are you gonna eat that?
I manage a smile, if I laugh he'll hear that I'm nervous. Shook, I hand him the sandwich and flash a few teeth. An hour later a young piggie is given the task to move us from the cell to the holding area. In the holding cell, the young coloured cat manages to get a cigarette sparked, having made friends with Cameroon Beanie, who managed to get the little tobacco wish. Watching the cigarette burn and too shook to ask for a drag Beanie and Boxers enjoy themselves cupping the smoke every time they hear foot steps.
Here's the list of charges:
Kid Boxers: Aressted and held for four days for not leaving a crime area after the police asked him to leave, he mentions the fact that they Moered him the previous day.
Cameroonian Beanie: Got picked up for being drunk.
Mjita othanda utshwala: Being drunk.
Phumlani: Being drunk.
Now lets clear this up right here and now. I was not charged with being drunk and disorderly nor was I charged with being Drunk in public. The charge is for being drunk. What does this mean? Has being drunk become illegal for us? When I say us I mean blacks. Does this mean I'm not allowed to walk around in the city I call home for the time being? Curfews, maybe? Little do they know that I am not a tourist here, this is my country and I can live wherever I want.
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