Kaffir Boy Rules and Order Quotes

"They say next time they pick me up," she told my father, "they'll deport me back to the homeland. And you, too, for having a wife without a permit."

"What can we do?" my father asked.

"If only I could get a permit," my mother lamented. My parents now lived the lives of perpetual fugitives, fleeing by day and fleeing by night, making sure they were never caught together under the same roof as husband and wife. (11.16-18)

Turning to me, he said, "What's shameful about working in white people's gardens? My grandmother too worked there when I was going to school. That's how I was able to go through school. That's nothing to be ashamed of. Those are the kinds of jobs white people have in abundance for us. You should be thankful she's working there, otherwise you wouldn't be getting all those books."

From that day onward, I never again felt ashamed to tell people, when they asked me, that Granny was a gardener, or that she, my mother and my father never went to school. In a way, that incident helped me overcome the type of shame that leads many people to deny their heritage, to forget where they come from, for the sake of acceptance. (29.41-42)

Bootlegging was a serious crime and those caught during raids were handed huge fines. Some were given long jail sentences or deported to the tribal reserves. Yet despite such hazards, the bootlegging club continued to grow; new members were added each day, more than making up for those arrested daily.

It came as no surprise, therefore, when one Friday evening my father said to my mother, as the family sat for dinner: "Now that we're both working, how about starting a little beer business. Other wives are doing it. Look at our neighbors, they've made such big profits they've even bought a new bathtub and a wardrobe."

Aware of the risks involved, my mother was quick to reply, "You know about raids on shebeens, don't you? Our pass and permit problems are enough to worry about." (29.47-49)