It’s Always That One Door

There is always that one door that seems to always be closed. It’s Friday night. Music playing in
the background, lights darting on and off the dance floor. 18-year-old Katherine Isaacs can’t
wait to get in and start her first ever clubbing experience. The bouncer checks her ID. “Sorry kid,
we can’t be having minors cramping our fun. Isn’t it past your bed time?” he says. She grabs her
ID back. Shoves the bulky man and dashes to the side of the entrance. Shrugging it off he allows
her friends to enter the club. ” Seriously! So my friends can get in but not me. They didn’t even
look back at me either, sigh. Whatever. Let me just go home.”
It’s a Saturday morning. It’s a beautiful sunny day, the sound of chatter in the background.
Karate students exist the building one by one holding bags and wiping their foreheads. Kat
peaks into the building. “Guess they aren’t here yet.” She enters and waits for about 10
minutes. A red Honda arrives in the parking lot. Three people walk into the building and 4 more
lag behind. Everyone greets one another. One person sets up the key board and sits ready to
play. Here we go. The first person suggests the 1st song. It’s a slow Setswana song. Suggested as
the opening worship song. Followed by the next upbeat jazzy Shona song. “Alright so I have this
song by Maverick city.” Kat proceeds to play the song for everyone. The keyboardist gets the
keys fairly quickly. The same however cannot be said for the singers.
10 minutes go by and Dineo says “This song is very difficult. We won’t be able to do it for
Sunday service.” It’s funny because the song is in English a language we all know but it’s harder
a bunch of Tswana speaker singing a language they don’t even know.” So…we are singing the
Shona songs tomorrow?” Kat asked. “Yes. Bona Kat, just sing we worship you re retse. We will
do your song next week. Come let’s practice.” Demands the lady with long dreadlocks and a
floral patterned dress. One would wonder why they practiced the song. Kat sang it 30 Sundays
in a row. Yes, she was keeping count. She made 6 suggestions during that time.
They were all to be sung ‘next week’. “Just leave them Kat. You will get your time to sing what
you want. Right now just listen to them.” Instructed a woman with a short afro and a shirt with
sweatpants. She Glanced at Kat then whisked the starch in the pot then covered it. “But mama
it’s not fair that people speak and treat me like this simply because I’m younger. They said they
wanted knew songs and I gave them. If they don’t like my songs, then why is the vision of the
group to have diverse types of music but then they exclude the English ones that are actually
different.” Before her mom could utter another word she walks off to her room. “Another day
another reminder that I just can’t do what I want to do. You’d thing that it would have just been
the club, right. But nope everyday it’s the same story in a different place. Sighs. One would
wonder how I get to do anything with my thoughts, efforts and passions driving me.” Year after
year the same door presented itself. But was it really age or was it something else. Culture?
Resistance to new things? Arrogance? Ignorance? All Kat knew was she was sick of that same
old door being closed every time.