I was told police would protect me

Growing up, I was told the police were my friends and they were there to protect me. I heard this from my grandmother, my parents and from my primary school teachers.

I grew up with so much love and respect for them, I even wanted to become a cop at some point. I remember singing maphodisa a rata chelete (police love money) when they passed by, but immediately ran away as soon as they stopped.

I knew that the police were meant to serve and protect, even when they conducted searches in secondary school for pupils who had phones or who were in gangs.

When they beat these kids up senselessly like they had committed some sort of huge crime, I still believed they were there to serve and protect.

These past few weeks, during the Wits protest, I experienced a sense of déjà vu. The killing of Mthokozisi Ntumba reminded me so much of Katlego Monareng, who was shot while running away from the police.

It took me back to 2015 in my first year of varsity. I had been rejected by The National Student Financial Aid Scheme and fees were going up by 6%. It wasn’t that bad, because I never went to bed hungry or slept on the streets, but it was nowhere near Patrice Motsepe kind of good.

I knew my parents couldn’t afford my fees, which prompted me to join the #FeesMustFall movement because I could relate and I knew the struggle very well.

We marched from Pretoria CBD to the Union Buildings and we were ready to be heard.

I was determined that day to tell my story, hoping that someone would hear me out and consider giving me free education.

After waiting for hours for Minister Blade Nzimande to address us, things became chaotic and all I remember is people running and the whole area clearing out. A bus was torched, a police car had been flipped and there was lots of shooting.

I ran towards the Capital Inn bar, but the ladies there refused to let me in. They only allowed guys inside. “No women allowed,” they said as they pushed us back outside where the police where shooting.

As soon as I thought I was safe, I tried to direct some of the students I was with to run away from the police, tell them where to hide and how far the police officer was from them.

I suddenly felt a very sharp, unbearable pain. My right arm was numb, swollen and immediately turned purple and I realised I had been shot with a rubber bullet.

I heard a very loud cry. Another student had been shot with a rubber bullet at close range. Her leg was broken and bleeding and she was wailing like a newborn.

I was in pain but, seeing her cry like that, made me realise that these people were no longer there to serve and protect us, but to serve and protect the government.

To this day, I still ask myself what I will teach my son. Should he trust and love them like I was told to do, or should I instil my fear in him and tell him to run as fast as his little feet can take him in the opposite direction.

Today, my relationship with the police is solely based on fear.

-Reitumetse Makwea