Who said it was over? The skinny lady dramatically walked out the door of the school building with an apron wrapped around her figure and a wooden spoon on her hand. “Who said it’s over?” She repeated herself looking at the rest of the crowd that held a meeting under the dusty and windy weather.
The building had several broken windows and terribly constructed. “Just because the fat lady has suffocated in her own high notes it doesn’t mean it’s over!” She justified with rhythm. The sounds of the drums in the back ground stated to gain momentum as she walked across the crowd. They followed the beat unconsciously playing the role of the backup singer. Suddenly a deep voice rose from the entrance of the building. A voice so deep, that it caught a pair of eyes and ears of the people who were seated at the far end of the theatre.
“Umzabalazo mawu cubeke” he roared in Zulu” (Let the beats go on and the people shall dance…) it stroke around the theatre as if it was thunder.
The actors on stage recognized the old man and watched him as he came out of the building to add his view into this story that has is built on stage. The drumming changed tone and the stage light went slightly brighter as the crowd chanted and sang until they were stopped by their commander. It seemed as if they were a community waiting for someone to tell them something.
“It’s been six weeks! Something must be done” the old man through his opinion into the fire of the angry crowd. “Week after week our children disappear, and what are the police doing about it?” an opinion unexpectedly rose from the crowd- "we must take the matter into our own hands."
As I sat there watching the production take place, I thought of how real this could be. Leaving your child at that school building hoping that your offspring will be safe, yet he or she is actually not. How could this happen? How could children disappear from the eyes of educators and care takers?