Blade Runner by Oscar Pistorius

remember one boy who had a
broken leg in a cast being chucked into the swimming pool
as he confused some of the lyrics while singing the school
hymn. It was wild.
    We were all in tears and pleading to go home. I remember
the older boys yelling at us and asking us who we thought
we were. Did we think we were adults? Did we think we
were young men? 'Make a point of watching your step,
young boy. This is serious, respect the rules because if you
don't you will be punished!' They set us all sorts of different
tests: one was an obstacle course, while another involved
being dropped off in a field seemingly in the middle of
nowhere, equipped with nothing but a compass, the task
being to work your way back to the camp within a certain
time frame. It was really tough, but in my opinion the
experience was character-building.
    I was still a lightweight at that age and I found the older
boys terrifying. The rough language and abrasive approach
were so intimidating. Some of them were huge burly rugby
players who weighed up to 100 kilos; to us they seemed
almost superhuman.
    In my last year in the dormitory I became responsible for
the first-year students. They slept in dormitories of twenty
children per room, with a small adjoining room with a
cupboard and a desk for the person overseeing them. Lights
out was nine o'clock, but they were allowed to talk to one
another until ten, when silence became obligatory. On the
whole the children were well behaved and respectful of the
rules, and always generously shared with me the endless
supply of treats their mothers sent to them. Mothers have a
tendency to spoil their sons rotten when they first leave
home.
    Over and above taking care of the dormitory the older
children were expected to mentor the younger children and
look out for them generally. In principle the older boy must
advise and support the younger, and should be there to help
him should he experience any problems or difficulties at
school. This system of mentoring, also known as fagging or
skivvying, has plenty of advantages for the older child as
well. I remember with great affection a little boy called Allan
Burnett who was my skivvy. He used to sleep closest to my
door; if I became hungry during the evening or when I was
studying late, all I had to do was call his name and he would
wake up and bring me a coffee with cookies. When I needed
to stay up late to study but found myself falling asleep, I
would wake him. We would chat a bit, I would have a break
and a snack, and then he could go back to bed and I would
continue studying. In return I was responsible for Allan: I
helped him with his homework wherever possible and went
to support him when he played in sports matches. Many
schools no longer use the fagging system, but I think it is a
fantastic way to mentor children, ensuring that they have the
support of someone who has already been through the same
experiences. It is a little like having a big brother. Of course,
one has to make sure that the system is not abused, but when
it is correctly and sensitively handled I think there are
significant advantages for everyone involved.

Chapter 5
The Coldest
Summer
    I N MY FIRST YEAR at Pretoria Boys' High I played cricket.
I was eager to try rugby but slightly apprehensive as I had
never played before (my junior school had not had a rugby
field). By my second year I had grown in confidence, so I
decided to substitute rugby and water polo for cricket and
tennis and I have never looked back. I did not do athletics,
but loved long-distance running. My preferred distance was
10 kilometres, and I was helped by the fact that I was using
much lighter prostheses. Chris Hatting, a friend of my
father's, designed the prostheses. Chris was an aeronautical
engineer obsessed with design; he had begun to produce the
prostheses towards the end of 2001. They were handcrafted,
relatively short and shaped like hooks; as they were still at a
fairly early stage of development they frequently broke, but
I