22 Head, A Gesture of Belonging, p.85.

It is painful to me that what I built up and suffered for and dreamt about has left me with very little dreams and visions at present. Perhaps Rain Clouds was all in vain for there is such a black, bitter and violent rage in my heart. I sometimes can't look at the face of a black man or woman without at the same time thinking that they are the epitome of all that is grasping, greedy, cruel, back stabbing and a betrayal of all is good in mankind. Half of this was that I had to be admitted to hospital with a nervous breakdown. Half of it was this village.