Dada 132

He then told me he had to ask some questions which might seem unconnected to my case but which could perhaps have a significant bearing on the whole structure of the matter. I realised he was going to talk about Dada again and I immediately felt very uncomfortable especially with my Ma and Da sitting rigid, erect and scared in the courtroom. I tried to do what my lawyer had first counselled me; to tell them my emotions were aroused and I could not control them. I tried to forget my rage but it kept getting in the way like a filter before a camera. The judge asked me why Dada was in a home and when I said I was working all the time and didn’t have much money. He looked at me as if that was a crime. He asked me if Dada’s death had affected me personally and I replied that Dada and I had expected nothing of each other, but he told good stories and he made me laugh and it was a shame when he got sick. We had both got used to our new lives. Mo would never have been able to stay if Dada had still been living there but I didn’t say that. My lawyer had told me not to bring that up. The presiding judge said he didn’t want to dwell on these affairs and asked the prosecuting lawyer if he had any questions for me. The prosecutor half turned his back on me and without looking at me, stated that with the permission of the presiding judge, he would like to know why I had carried on with my vendetta when the first white boy had dropped to the floor and I had gone on calmly to kill his friend. I said, ‘no, it was not a vendetta, it was pure chance.’ ‘In that case why I had taken a knife with me, and why follow the other man with such determination when his friend had fallen. Was this a matter of pure chance he asked? I nodded my head and said yes, very clearly; pure chance, because it was all part of the same moment. The prosecutor then said in a short and terse voice, ‘very good that will be all for the present.’