CHAPTER 1<br >m<br >OUT-KICKED<br >they are out to demonstrate their decency and good-<br >will， to themselves as well as others， white South Africa s racial theorists<br >are inclined to lose themselves in a riot of euphemisms， analogies， and<br >fatuous forecasts. A lot of words get spilled as the urge to be understood<br >clashes with an aversion to l~eing understood too well. But when being<br >understood is no longer an issue， language can be used sparingly. The<br >letter informing me I had a week to clear out of South Africa was a<br >model of economy， unencumbered by explanations. "You are hereby<br >instructed，" it said， "to make arrangements for yourself and your family<br >to leave the Country on or before the 28th April， 1966."<br > We had been there for only eleven months， but the message had<br >long been expected， ever since an official had canceled a lunch in<br >Pretoria， privately explaining that he would be compromised if he were<br >seen again with someone the Cabinet had decided to expel. When the<br >snub was finally made official， my immediate reaction was relief. A<br >weight had been lifted， and as we walked out of the terminal at Jan<br >Smuts Airport to our plane for Rome--two days ahead of the official<br >deadline--I had a feeling of lightness， of freedom as a palpable sensa-<br >tion， such as I had never known before. Possibly it occurred to me at<br >that moment to wonder whether I would ever set foot in South Africa<br >again. But since I had now been officially certified an enemy--"one of<br >South Africa s most notorious enemies in the world，" an Afrikaans-<br >language newspaper would later say， honoring me beyond my deserts<br >--that would have been tantamount to wondering whether the regime<br >would crumble and fall in my lifetime.<br > Fourteen years later， when the suspicion that I might be recon-<br >stituted as a persona grata in South Africa hatched itself almost in-<br ><br >