Inequality is a reality that we all have to deal with, whether directly or indirectly. I have experienced inequality directly and indirectly in my life. It culminates in an amalgamation of emotions, in our lives and can cause a huge impact both positively and negatively.

I was once a victim to racial inequality in my society. This was directed to me when I was in a mall, with a couple of my friends. We decided to park our car at the Pavilion shopping mall, in Westville. As we were looking for a place to park, another person (who was white) accidentally ran pass our car. Our car startled the white male, as he tripped over and fell, when he saw our car. In a rage he then picked up his fist and hurled rude and derogatory words at my friends. He said, “You bloody coolies don’t know how to drive, wake up!” It was his fault as he ran pass our car and for those of you who don’t know a coolie is a derogatory word for an Indian, which was used by whites during the dreaded apartheid era. Being real Chatsworth “Outees” my friends and I didn’t let him leave without placing a few “Warmers” on his face!

In 2006 I was invited to Washington DC to attend a Leadership Summit. In order to travel I had to arrange/apply for a passport (travel document) and various other documents from Government departments.My biggest nightmare of inequality started when I called to the Dept. of Home Affairs with my Dad. I arrive there with all my relevant documents and my photos at 08:15. I had completed all my documents in order to possess my application. We followed the queue for forty five minutes and was approached by an official who demanded to check our documents. He scrutinized all my documents and asked me to follow another queue for the the processing of the application. After following this queue for one hour which went through a tea break of twenty minutes we had managed to arrive at the front of the queue and continued to wait. I noticed a old black man behind me who seemed to know the person behind the counter. I could say by them greeting each other in their native language. After a short while I heard the official from behind the counter shout “woza baba.” Which means come old man (for service). I Looked at the official angrily and was confused, because it was my turn to be served. I went to the official and politely demanded to see the manager or a senior person. She asked me to ”just wait.” I waited for ten minutes and eventually was approached by another official who claimed to be the Supervisor. I told him how unfairly I was treated. His reply was very sarcastically “the darkies now own the country a laughingly, “so what’s the matter?” in a loud voice. By now my turn had arrived and I rushed to the counter and demanded service, and my application was processed quickly and a receipt was placed on the counter with a bang. I gave her a cheeky look , took my receipt and walked away. My Dad thanked her very much, while she continued to talk to her Supervisor in her language. My Dad and I rode home still shaken by that poor customer service and promised never to go to the home Affairs again. My dad had sent a leter to the mibnister and is still awaiting a reply until today.

As you can see my friend that Durban, just like other places in S.A has its faults and racial inequality should not be allowed whether it is direct or indirect. This has not lowered my confidence in any way, but it just goes to show how many ignorant people are out in our world especially Durban and South Africa