I can still distinctly remember the sounds of gunshots, of running feet and of screaming voices. In my mind’s eye I can still see the blood from the wound of a friend who was shot through the hand with a rubber bullet when he tried to shield himself from a bullet that was heading straight to his face. I can still smell the stun grenades. And sometimes when I shut my eyes hard enough, I can see the faces of the police officers who searched us as we entered the Great Hall to write exams – as though we were common criminals rather than poor students fighting for a chance to escape the condition of Blackness. Drábské světničky ke sebaka se tummeng sa bahahlauli. Mekhoa ea kajeno ea bahahlauli e tsoang tlaase ho moeli o phunyeletsoeng mohlomong e ne e le ka lebaka la 1830, litepisi li ile tsa atolosoa lilemong tsa bo-1920 ke Club ea Bohahlauli ba Czechoslovak. Kajeno, karolo e ka sehloohong ea likarolo tse ka holimo tsa majoe a majoe a kopantsoe ke tsamaiso ea litepisi le marokho (potoloho ea maeto).