I seemed to be in South Africa at a place where executions were being conducted. Many black men had been arrested and were being lined up in long lines. A line of men in front of me turned to the right and went straight up to the firing wall and then back across. Parallel to the line against the wall was another line of men which the guards used to rest their rifles on when they shot at the men lined up against the wall.

As I watched the execution, I thought I would surely resist if I knew I was going to be executed like that.

I bought a coke. There were three glasses with ice in them. I drank the coke out of one of the glasses. One of the other glasses was full but one was only half full. I asked the man who gave me the coke if the men who were being executed ever resisted. He said it wouldn't do them any good. I asked him when the handcuffs were taken off the men. He said they were taken off back at the beginning at the line. But the men didn't resist because they knew it simply wouldn't do any good. I sat and watched as the guards took aim at some black men and shot them dead.

What struck me most was how the black people went so docilely to their execution without resisting. I thought if it were me, I would be kicking, screaming and jumping up and down trying to get away.

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