Zebra Horizon

  *

  The day of the speech had arrived. While everybody else was at assembly, Brian and I set up the necessary things in the gymnasium. Brian opened the parcel from the German consulate and said: “I’d love to go overseas after matric next year. London, Picadilly Circus, a live Beatles concert…Paris, the Eiffel Tower, the French chicks…” he sighed. “Ride a Vespa through Rome, drink litres of Chianti and meet some Italian chicks…”

  “If you really want to go nothing is stopping you. If you want to come to Germany you can stay with us. Just give me ample notice that I can warn the German chicks.”

  Brian grinned and then he frowned. “For you it’s easy to travel, Mathilda, but with a South African passport you’re not always welcome. My dad goes a lot to foreign countries for his work and I’m telling you, there are places where they treat you like shit if you are a South African.”

  “Don’t you think you treat the blacks here like shit even in their own country?”

  “Ag, come on Mathilda. They are stone-age people. One can’t let them run the place.”

  The doors opened and the pupils of Protea High swept in like a white, khaki and blue tide. The teachers took up their places on the chairs in the back. The pupils settled down on the floor, the girls on the right hand side, the boys on the left, everybody sitting tailor fashion.

  I wiped my sweaty hands on my tunic. Being nervous was a terrible feeling. I hoped Mr Martin wouldn’t disapprove too much of my slight change of plans.

  Mr Martin came to the front. He tapped his silver pen on the lecturn and all whispering stopped. He cleared his throat as always when he had an announcement to make and told the school that I was going to enlighten them on the subject of Germany. Germany, a country he had had the privilege to visit himself in 1962, an experience he would never forget. He didn’t mention why. He handed the word over to me with an encouraging smile. My colleagues clapped and whistled. Even Kim grinned.

  Not bad for a start.

  “Sehr geehrter Herr Direktor, sehr geehrter Lehrkörper, liebe Mitschüler...”

  Everybody looked a bit baffled except Mrs Davies, the German teacher, who nodded with every word I said.

  “First of all I would like to thank everybody again for making me feel so welcome.”

  My audience relaxed at the sound of familiar English.

  “Today I…”

  Whoamm. The door slammed open. A tea trolley squealed in, accompanied by a ribald”jou moer”.

  Mrs Koeks had the shortest reaction time. While her collegues still held their breath in sudden fossilization, she jumped up and manoeuvered Lettie, the tea lady, back outside. Everybody started to breathe again. I carried on with my speech. After 2 minutes I mentioned that man had listened to speeches ever since he had started to develop language and living in a technical era now, one should make use of modern means of communication. I gave a sign to Brian. He turned a switch and a wide angle shot of the Rhine valley appeared on the wall. Half an hour later the documentary finished with a view on Neuschwanstein Castle in autumn. Brian switched the projector off. Everybody clapped. Mr Martin seemed quite pleased although I hadn’t spoken for more than 3 minutes. The German Consulate had sent me a hell of a good documentary. I was impressed.

  It was the job of Peter, the president of the debating society, to thank me. He waffled on for quite a while so there was no time for questions. Before he bell rang, Mr Martin quickly said that he had enjoyed the film and that it had brought back pleasant memories of his trip in 1962. He cleared his throat and carried on: “Now that we’ve seen an…uh…official documentary about Germany, we are looking forward to a more…uh…personal view in Mathilda’s next speech.”