Lives Between Walls

I watched her fingers gracefully dance across those black and white keys. Enraptured by her spellbinding prowess, each and every note placed with thought and imagination. It seemed she had become one with the instrument, she spoke through that sad melody, of her own grief, whose tune filled that empty auditorium. To me these were words, and these words called out to me.

As she played, she began to levitate to a trance like state, swaying her head back and forth, her sunstreaked hair tossing, like the leaves of a majestic fir tree tousling in the wind. In that state, all her titles, social status, religious beliefs and pretence seemed to melt away – leaving her naked. That’s probably why she always practiced alone. She didn’t want anyone to see her this vulnerable. However, she was unaware of my presence. Like clockwork at every recess, I was there hiding behind the curtain, watching her. “Where are you going Otis?” My friends would always ask me, whenever I dashed out of the classroom at the sounding of the bell. Of course I couldn’t let them know where I was going – that I was going to watch Mia play. What would they think of me, if they found out about my obsession over this white girl?

You see, I went to a multi-racial school, however this was around the time when racial prejudice was still rife in the town of Orchidville. So even though black children were now allowed to attend school with the white children, there were some privileges that we were still denied – like taking piano lessons and other extra-curricular activities. Of course it wasn’t fair, but our parents were just glad that their kids finally had access to a better education than they had received. There were many other challenges that came with mixing different races into one pot so early since the dismantling of racial segregation legislations. The trouble was that it took longer to dismantle it in the mind. So there would be racially motivated conflicts between students from time to time. These would draw concern from the community, but the principal of the school was adamant that it could work, the learners just needed time to become more accepting of each other. He was a good man, Mr Walsh – with good intentions – however at times more than good intentions was needed.

At the time Mia was in Matric, which was two grades higher than me, and she was quite a popular girl at her school. She was not one of those blonde bimbos who was famous just because of her long legs and big boobs but she had accolades to match. She was a deputy school president, part of the academic top achievers club and represented the school in swimming championship league – definitely not just a pretty face. She was someone I had never thought I would ever get a chance to talk to – I mean why would I? I already had trouble attracting girls from my own race, how much more someone from a different one? Mia and I were leagues apart, me being as black as they come, with big round eyes, which made made look constantly surprised. My only saving grace was a warm toothy smile. I was what you would call a ‘no one’ in the school, and I usually took refuge in my circle of friends. I enjoyed always being in the group, as it made me seem invisible, which helped me steer away the attention off my underwhelming looks. It also helped protect me from racial onslaughts as my friends who were bigger than me, would protect me from being picked on.

However, my friends could not protect me all the time. One time time I was ambushed on my way to class by some of the Afrikaans boys. They said something about me kicking their bag, I think they were just looking for an excuse to be assholes to me because I don’t recall doing any such thing. I hate them. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you are talking about. I’m not going to apologize for something I didn’t do,” I had reasoned with them, as one of the bigger boys grabbed me by the collar, “Apologize to the bag, darkie!” One of the guys laughed flinging me down to bow to the blue schoolbag. This was humiliating, being in this environment was not pleasant at all for a child, but this was the best school my parents could have sent him to. The other schools were black, underprivileged and still taught the limited ‘Black Education’ sylabus. That would not help me achieve my dream to become a sound engineer at all. And it’s not like I hadn’t reported such incidents to the teachers, but the only outcome would be them promising to look into it, and that’s where it would end. These racist perpetrators were not properly disciplined, the teachers would turn a blind eye to it and hence it would continue. “I said apologize to the fuckin bag darkie!” The boys growled grabbing me by the collar and forced me to kiss the bag. ‘Darkie’ was derogatory term they used to refer to us black learners.

Just then Mia had come along, wearing her blazer with all her badges, and a short blue skirt. A sense of relief washed over me, surely the deputy president would not sit by and let this carry on. She was clearly perturbed by what had been going on, “George, Reumel, Wayne! What do you guys think you are doing?!” When they saw Mia, they quickly backed away from me, “George laughed, hey Mia. How you doing beautiful?” Mia frowned and rolled her eyes. “Hey we was just playing with the little guy, right Otis?” One of the guys winked as he turned to look at me. I was not amused. “This is not the time to play George, you know very well that you have 2 minutes to get to class after the school bell has rung. So I suggest you hurry on up,” replied Mia with a no nonsense expression, as I stood up and dusted myself from the floor. “Mmm, I love it when you get so authoritative Mia,” replied George with a smirk, as he and his cronies turned to walk away. I was left standing beside this white girl, she was so beautiful. “Thank you Mia, I really -” I started to say but was cut off by Mia’s piercing reproof, “That goes for you too darkie! Get to class now!” I was taken aback by how cold she was toward me, the way she spoke to me, just like the other racists in the school. As much as I hate to admit it, I felt like crying, but no. I wasn’t going to give this bitch the satisfaction of seeing me defeated. Instead I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned to run to class – the tears streaming down my face as I heard George and his goons howling at me in the background. I didn’t understand it. Was every white person so cruel? Were my friends right? That these people were all snakes? I hated Mia from that day on.

One day as me and my friends were walking past the auditorium, the sound of the piano caught my attention, “Do you guys hear that?” Amahle, one of my friends responded, “It’s a piano duh.” I was intrigued at how beautiful it sounded. Whoever was playing that music, must have a genuine and pure heart. My father was a gifted musician. He always taught me to not just hear music, but to listen to it. Thus I grew up loving music, and that is where my passion to become a sound engineer came from. It was just a shame I would never get to practice on the school piano seeing as black people where not allowed to at the time. “Whatever OT, anyway how can you judge someone’s heart from the way they play the piano? That is spooky,” Bantu, another one of my friends retorted. “It’s probably one of the white girls. I know this other one who always practices during lunch break,” Amahle added, “she bad as hell too.” Eric, shoved Amahle playfully, “So you’d tap that?”

“Hell yeah! Sex is the only area where I don’t discriminate!”

I shook my head as the boys roared in laughter together. But I was curious, I wanted to see the person who was playing this tune. So the next day, I abandoned my friends during recess, and snuck into the school auditorium, unnoticed. I slowly made my way behind the stage, and slowly pulled back the curtain to peak, and to my shock I saw Mia behind the piano. The same bloody racist woman who had slandered him a week ago. Surely she couldn’t be capable of composing such beauty. I was blown away. I just couldn’t understand how such a wretched heart could play something so beautiful. It was at that moment that I started believing that there might be some good in Mia. Maybe it was buried deep down beneath several layers of things told to her by her parents, and friends – lies told to her by her kind about black people.

I would continue to watch her everyday. She was majestic as she played, as she threw her head back, her eyes closed and as her fingers tiptoed across the keys. Her spine arched backward, her chest heaving up and down as she poured her heart and soul into her worship. Biting her lower lip, as though she was with a lover. What a sight she was to behold, for the eyes and ears, enough to make a young man breathless. “Oh Mia,” I whispered, overcome with overwhelm, longing to be in the place of that piano – with her dancing her fingers all over me. Intertwining together, the black and the white keys, me and her, making heavenly music.

Suddenly straight from hell, a cold callous hand grabbed my neck from behind, “Look what we have here!” The piano came to an abrupt halt as Mia swung her head in our direction, startled by the commotion. Before I knew what was going on, I was dragged from behind the curtains and flung onto centre stage in full view of Mia – exposed. It was George, he had found me hiding behind the curtains. I was so embarrassed, what would happen to me? More importantly, what would Mia think of me? Mia stood up from behind the piano in a rage, “What is the meaning of this George?! How dare you disturb my practice?” George smirked, “Is that the thanks I get for exposing the one who has been spying on you all this time?” I stayed on the floor, fearing to even look up at Mia, opting to remain on all fours like the dog I was in their presence. I stole a glance and saw Mia’s eyes widening in disbelief. George laughed as he strolled around the stage, as though he was performing for a live audience, “Oh you didn’t know? I’ve been watching this fool for a week now. He hadn’t been hanging out with his friends as per usual. So I figured, being the trouble maker he is, he was probably up to no good. So I followed him, and lo and behold, he’s been coming here to watch you play.” Mia seemed confused at this. She hesitated. She was probably thinking, why would this this guy have gone through all the effort just to come and watch her? Did he really value her piano playing that much, did it mean something more to him? She looked at me, just as my eyes met hers. “Is this true Otis?” She asked sternly, careful not to reveal any compassion or vulnerability towards a black man probably, lest he forget his place.

“Umm… yes… yes mam.”

“But why?”

“Because, because…”

George interupted, “Cause he has the hots for you Mia! He was about to jerk off while you were playing!”

“Argh! George you are so disgusting,” she gakked.

What? I interjected desperately, “That’s not true! I only came here because I genuinely enjoy the way you play the piano Mia. Honest!”

Mia mused for a moment and then walked back to sit behind the piano. George was beginning to get impatient, “Well aren’t you going to get him punished? Or do you also have feelings for this black boy, Mia?”

“George, you are so gross. A black boy though?”

My heart sank.

“Of course I’m going to punish him. I just need time to think, and it just so happens that the best way for me to think is to play the piano.”

“Okay then can I punish him for you? Just to teach him a lesson?”

“Just leave him alone, I’ll deal with it myself.”

“C’mon, just a slap.”

“I said leave him alone!”

“Ooff!” I cried out as all the air escaped my lungs, as George kicked me in the stomach with all his might. The blow was so intense, I saw a flash of light as it happened – I probably nearly blacked out. Mia just shook her head, “Are you happy now George?” George gave a triumphant grin as he stormed out of the auditorium. I lay writhing on the floor with pain, clutching tightly onto my stomach as the piano resumed. Was this girl serious, was she just going to leave me there and continue to play her piano? These people were really the scum of the earth. My friends were right, and I felt like an idiot for ever believing otherwise.

I slowly stood up, dusting myself and wincing in pain, as I began to make my way to the exit. I turned to look at Mia again, she had that blank and callous expression on her again, as she continued to play, with a heavy hand this time. This bitch. I couldn’t take it anymore, I opened my mouth and spoke.

“You know my parents taught me that a white man only cares about those of his own skin colour. And for you Mia, for a moment I was prepared to put those teachings aside. I was prepared to believe that you were different. But now I realise how wrong I was. You are no better than the rest of them. You are just as bad, if not worse.”

Again, the piano came to a gradual halt. The silence in that auditorium was deafening. The sound of Mia’s chair scraping against the timber floarboards as she stood up, filled the room. The sound of her shoes as she walked towards me followed. She looked angry, and it was clear that my words had touched a nerve.

“What do you want me to do Otis?!”

I was startled and stepped back. That was not the reaction he had expected. Her face was red with rage.

She continued, “Yes I am white, I was raised on racist teachings by racist parents, and that’s who I am! Yes I am not proud of how our people treated your people and how they took your land and treated your mothers and fathers like slaves. Do you think I’m happy with what George did to you just now? I’m not! It is hell trying to conform to this ideal, trying to put someone else down that so that I feel superior – it is tiring Otis! But I this is my identity, and its what brings me belonging.”

“No it’s not your identity Mia. You are different! And that’s why I’ve been coming to hear you play, because I know a wretched heart could never play something so beautiful. You have a beautiful heart Mia, you don’t have to suppress it to conform to an ideal you don’t believe in.”

“Oh?! So are you like my savior now? Coming to save me from myself? What if I am that ugly racist? What if that is actually who I am in my core?”

“You are not Mia. Maybe you can fool everyone else, but you can’t fool me.”

“What makes you think that you know me so well?”

“I don’t. But if there’s one thing I know, is music. Music transcends every religious and cultural barrier. And music doesn’t lie. And what it tells me about you, you can’t hide.”

Mia hesitated for a moment. My words resonnated with her.

“I… I don’t know what to say Otis. I’m scared… because this is all I’ve known.”

“I understand.”

“But if anyone hears me saying that, what will become of me? My own parents will reject me, what will the people from my school say? I mean if someone even catches us talking to each other hall, what would people say if they see me talking to – “

“A darkie?”

“Otis this is the real world. Please be rational. In the ideal world maybe, but I would have no where to go.”

“Mia – “

“What do you want from me Otis?”

“I just want you to be true to yourself Mia. If not for me, for your own sake.”

With that I turned to walk away, still clutching my stomach, leaving Mia standing alone on that stage.

It’s been 3 months since that incident. Mia has since softened up towards me, I still go to the auditorium every lunchbreak to watch her play. She still plays the piano, but now she knows I’m there. And it thrills my heart to know that she knows she is performing for me. That curtain still separates us, like a metaphor of the racial barrier between us, but at least now, every now and then she invites me to come and play the piano with her. Even if it’s just for 10 minutes – so that no one sees us together – it’s still magical. But when she is with her friends, or when there’s other people around, she still puts on the ‘cold racist Mia facade.’ However she would flash me the odd smile and wink here and there when no one was looking, just to reassure me that she still sees me. How tiring it must be to live such a two faced life. Maybe in the perfect world, things could have been different between us.