This was South Africa for me when I was growing up, Desmond Tutu. Many Afrikaners and Blacks weren't getting along, and my people were angry, so they protested in hopes of ending the apartheid.
One day I was walking about with my mother, and this white priest named Trevor Huddleston tipped his hat towards my mother. It was the first time I saw a white man greet my mother with respect.
From that day on, I knew I had to do something about the segregation going on.
I will help put a stop to the apartheid!
The hope lived one even though my father had just announced we were to move yet again in 1943 because of our financial difficulties.
I'm sorry son, we have to move again, maybe this time we can actually settle in.
It's ok, I understand.
After we moved to Munsieville, a Black settlement in Krugersdorp, I helped mom and dad by walking door to door with a friend, we walked in the Afrikaners communities, and asked if they needed their laundry done (we didn't wash the clothes, we collected it and brought it back home, so mom could wash them, and we'd deliver them back).
Helping out wasn't always easy though, I went from offering laundry services, to walking for three miles to resell oranges, to selling peanuts at railroad stations, only for a few amount in change.