While Dad and I stood up there watching the red sky, Dad said that that was why we can never go back. The blacks drove the whites away, and all we have left is here, Dad said, sweeping the air with his arm. And this country is empty before our people arrived. Everthing, everything you see, we build up front nothing. This is our place, given to us by God and we will look after it. Whatever the cost.

Edit:
Story about a young Boy talking about his Family and his friends when he way younger.
For him a normal live, for me sometimes a bit difficult to understand.
He is talking about live in southafrica, like his Family is living on a Island and the others outside the Island live a different live. The "others" have Problems with the coloured People, but in his Family it is not a subject to talk about.
One day a "Mr. Smith" came to visit the Family. Nobody knows Mr Smith. The Kids only got told, is that he come from South America.
...

There is a letter, written by Aunt Karla to the Mum of Ilse and Marnus. I would like to write it down here. There is so much in it, and it makes it easier for me to put everything in words.... :)
12. January 1973, London
My dearest Leonore,
I'm writing this short letter, as it's impossible for me to accept that you refuse further contact with me. Just as agonising as this is to me, wo is the possibility that I may never see the children again.
It's all so unnecessary, dear sister. People may have differences of opinion, but is it necessary for them to become enemies? Bur we are so afraid of everything. We were brought up to fear anything wich had but a vague semlance of the infamiliar. They made us afraid of the whole world.
From your knowlege of Music, my dear Leonore, you will know that it was a sin during the Middle Ages to sing in more than one voice: yes, to harmonise meant to be a heretic! And yet, today, we sing to the praise of God in eight or even twelve different voices. And we laugh about the Dogma and stupidity of the Middle Ages. But while we might laugh, we Forget about the thousands, even millions, of People who were killed before and in order to make greater creativity and freedom possible. Changes which today we accept as given. They were not given - they were fought for. When Picasso started using the cubist technique in his paintings, he was decried as a fool an Idealist. Today he is acknoledged as one of the century's greatest artists.
Why are we educatet to be afraid of People who think differently from us, or who do differenty from us or who look different from us? And why is it so easy for that fear to take root and blossom into a weed of hatred, selfishness and Terror? Why are you afraid of Hearing me explain why I say Johan is the master of your life? Why do you refuse to listen to why I say he has stolen your life from you? Leonore, dont you see - is it nor your marriage that I want ot criticise - it's every marriage where the potential of a woman is lost because it is the man's imagined right to be the leader!
Are the answers to these questions all that different from why he didn't want to let the children hear what it means to be a black South African? And how is it possible to be so afraid that you prefer to exorcise me from your life rather than listening and than deciding what you will or will not believe? Are even my ideas such a threat to you? My dear Leonore, if my ideas about what is wrong in our Country frightens you, I cannot but dread the day you hear the ideas of most black People.
Oh, how I have laught baout Johan calling me an English Liberal! Strangely, he and I agree about many English-speaking South Africans. It is often they grow shout for justice while at the same time they grow fat of the suffering of those whose freedom they seek.
It's the same Thing I see here in England and Europe, the frightening douple Standards!
And you my sister, what will you do if, one day, one of your children were to think and act different from you? In closing I must beg you to remember one Thing: our children might laugh at us as we do about the Middle Ages. But possibly, our children will never forgive us.
Please embrace Ilse for me.
All my love,
Karla

Have fun, reading this book. Maybe you will Hand it over to a friend or you will wild release this book.

Viel Spaß beim lesen und wieder frei lassen.
Melde dich mal wieder, liebes Buch. Erzähl einfach, wie es dir bei deinem neuen Leser gefällt.