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Please Mr President

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It was a hot late night, the blackout was being enforced so every star could be seen in the sky. Michael lived in a DSA neighbourhood, that’s a Dark Skin area. Though he had become more acquainted with the prosperous white towns of the coast, as his rise to fame in recent months brought support from some of the more liberally prone whites. Though he had gained notoriety, and was recognised across the globe, he still remained in his government enforced abode, along with thousands of those alike him, who did not chose their destiny, but for which were assigned at birth. 

Sendem was not a safe city, even as it was only a few miles from the capital of Retoria, crime was abundant, from both the populace and the police. Not far away Michael heard gunshots, though he wasn’t truly frightened, it was a regular occurrence. Anti Apartheid groups would attack police stations, and the police would attack the villages they came from. It wasn’t unusual to come across a the ruins of a once bustling town, with bodies lying in the flailing sun. Finally Michael decided to head to bed, for he needed rest for what was to come tomorrow,

In the morning he woke early, took a bite from the little breakfast they had, and went to get changed into one of two suits. He hears a car horn beep outside and runs out the door, not to be late for the event. “Everyone ready?” He asked. Everyone in the cramped car nodded, “Alright, let’s go.”. The car drove for a quarter of an hour, across barely paved streets, until they reach the first of many checkpoints.

”Papers and permits” the checkpoint guard said. They all reached for their ID cards and the permits they had waited months to receive. “Alright get on through.”. This process would repeat several times before they reach their destination, some with searches, bomb dogs, drug dogs and interviews. Finally they reached downtown Retoria, though far from a utopia it seemed so in comparison to Sendem, the streets were smooth, lined with palm trees, and stores they group could only dream of even entering. The air was free of gunpowder and pollution, and people could walk about without fearing that they may be robbed,

Finally they reach the office of Congressman Johan David, one of the few members of congress not for the continuation of apartheid. As they disembark the car that could barely hold the group, people along the street started, and turned the other way, as not to come across the group. As they enter the building, the guard immediately went on alert, and grip their pistols. “What’s in the bag?” A guard says. Michael slowly puts the bag down and raises his hands, “it’s documents, books, nothing illegal I promise.” Then down the hallway comes Congressman David, along with an aide. “Hey, what are you doing?” The congressman asks. “Sir, we’re trying to handle this situation, if you would please step back.” The guard replies. “I invited these fine gentlemen to my office, Officer.” The guard looks stunned. “I’m sorry congressman, please go forward”. The group pick up their belongings and head down the hallway. The guards look at them as they walk away, with an angry look.

”I am so sorry for the guards.” The congressman says in an apologetic tone. “Don’t worry, we’re all used to it.” Michael replies. As they reach the door of the congressman’s office, the Party leader is walking down the corridor. “Hang on one moment. Senator Guilder!” The congressman walks off to talk to the party leader, and the group stays where they are. The party leader can be seen giving glances to the group, as he looks down on David. The congressman walks back up to the group.

”I can’t meet with you at the moment, sorry, there’s a problem and I just have to go and deal with it.”. The group are disheartened, but understanding, it was easy to tell there was no problem, but that the leader had told him not to meet with them. Every party had apartheidists and anti apartheid, and, unfortunately for the majority of Westzeelanders, the apartheidists were in power.

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