Dear Tekle, When Ms Gregory first told us you were joining our class from Ethiopia I was so excited, I asked her if you spoke my mother tongue knowing full well you didn't. I just really wanted to connect. But when you joined our class the next day, I excluded you as everyone else did, because I desired their acceptance more than yours. It all came to a head when you cried and told on me to Ms Gregory because I started a game called "Run away from Tekle". I had no defense. 6 year olds can be so cruel. Through sheer force of will alone you made me your friend, and we had so much fun when Pavone and I went to your house. Your parents bought you plenty of video games, but before us you had no one to play with. I remember when you tricked us into going down a steep hill on a scooter, I had to jump off when I couldn't brake hard enough. I needed stitches. You laughed, we got mad that you thought it was funny. But of course it was funny to you. You were 6 and had already been hit by a car. When other kids half your size would pick on you, me and Pavone would defend you. "Tekle's cool now" we would shout, as if you hadn't been cool before. I changed schools and slowly lost contact. It wasn't until your funeral that I thought deeply about you again. I knew I was sad, but not much else. You should have seen how many people were there. We had an underage drink in your honour. It has been more than a decade since your funeral, but I never cried over you til today. I am sorry for not having been a better friend. I have no tattoos but I will remember you with the scar you gave me. You were a bright spirit in a dark country and were gone too soon. Rest in peace Tekle -------- The commodore goes screaming past, I make a joke to Taylor about it being our Uber driver to help diffuse the tension. The commodore violently reverses, missing us by inches. YOU TALKING SHIT ABOUT ME, the man screams. No. I respond, we were just standing here. WELL THEN YOU CAN GO BACK TO YOUR COUNTRY MATE, he screams back. No I'm fine right here, I respond. DO YOU WANT TO GET BASHED? He questions. I think he is bluffing, I will not be shouted into submission. Go ahead mate, I respond calmly. He exits the car and walks around. Taylor is rooted to the spot, he wants to leave but he can't, he knows he must help diffuse the situation. The man gets closer, I still think he is bluffing. My hands are by my sides, with no intention of fighting. He is bluffing after all. CRUNCH, in a flash his elbow has rocketed into my nose, breaking it instantly. I am shocked, I was not expecting that. I can now tell he is serious, so can Taylor. ARE WE DONE HERE CUNT, I scream at the man, I am no longer calm. Taylor gets between us, he helps diffuse. DO YOU WANNA GET BASHED AGAIN, the man screams back. I SAID, ARE WE DONE HERE, I scream for a final time whilst extending my arm out. He shakes my hand. A symbolic gesture to signal the end of the confrontation. Our Uber driver is long gone at this point. Weak man. After the hand shake, I calm down. I see he is in great pain. I ask him if he's ok. He doesn't respond but he's on the verge of tears. I ask him if he wants a hug. Again, he doesn't respond, but he is crying now. I give him a hug, he apologizes. His mother recently passed away, and was his last support. I tell him I understand, I love him, and can help. He says I do not love him. I say how many people would hug you after you broke their nose, I do love you. He says that I do not understand, that I have support, I have family, I have friends, he points at Taylor. I do not agree with him, but deep down I know he speaks the truth, I do not understand. He drives off, tells us he may kill himself tonight, and not to worry about him. Taylor asks me if I'm ok, I respond "Shit happens". I file a police report, I make sure to let them know I want help for the man, not punishment. They drop me & Taylor off, Taylor seems uncomfortable during the ride. They say they'll keep me updated. They never do. I regret filing. I hope the man is ok. I know he is not. The man was honest, the police were not. I wonder how many ethnic friends the officers have. ... 2 months later my nose is fixed. My mum doesn't notice, I guess the surgeons did a good job. More importantly though, I do not have to tell her. I do not have to tell her that the physical damage this man inflicted on me pales in comparison to the emotional damage I let this country inflict on me. Now that I see the truth. I am angry. I will not be contained. I will fix this country's culture. From fucking housing to racism. It will all be fixed. -------- Me & Tim walk past a park, a girl with severe trauma is exorcising her demons with two male family members. I am fragile, I hope they do not turn their gaze towards us. The girl screams at us, all I hear is RACIST, I assume the worst. Despite my condition I respond as best I can. I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD LIFE, CYA! I shout back. The male family members seem pleased with my response. I cry later, it is so tough to respond with love to people who hate you. Tim is confused, tells me the girl said I HATE RACISTS, I laugh. Seems like the encounter helped the both of us. The country is healing. Growing up in Australia Smarak Satyavrata Nayak