He tells me that he always paints the townships as happy scenes,
with happy people.
Born of a South African father
and a Zimbabwean mother
he has known life both inside and outside of the townships.
He tells me that the white people
always feel sad when they enter the townships
and face the reality of the living conditions.
They stare and cry, or express “sorrow” he says,
perhaps “guilt” I think.
He tells me that in turn,
the residents of the townships feel sad.
Not for themselves
but instead for the sad onlookers
as they themselves do not feel the same sorrow.
For this is the only life they’ve ever known.