Mandisa addresses the white American student's mother directly, asking what she should do with her knowledge of Mxolisi's crime. She laments the death of the girl who had "much yet to do," but also questions why she came to South Africa in the first place(198). Now, Mandisa says she is torn between shame at her son's actions and anger towards the people she feels pushed him towards them: the adults who had earlier praised and encouraged his anger at the white settlers. She fears, moreover, that the same patterns will keep repeating: "There are three- and four-year-olds as well as older children, roaming the streets of Guguletu with nothing to do all day long. Those children, as true as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west—those young people are walking the same road my son walked" (199). She concludes by pleading with God for strength.

The narrative jumps back to sometime"much later" than Mandisa's meeting with Mxolisi. Mandisa opens the door to several of her neighbors—Skonana and Qwati, as well as two women named Lindiwe and Yolisa. They tell Mandisa that they have "come to cry with [her]…to grieve with those who grieve" (200).