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The Next Court Case – Stripped to the Bone


The police were now losing the plot. They were like little kids taking sweets from shops as if there was no law and order.

My cheeky announcement must have unsettled them. “I am going to strip to the bone”. The venue was public and licensed. So I kept my promise and stripped to the bone. Where is their sense of humour? The body stocking I wore was thick and black and the bones that were sown on to them were thin and white. Under the ultra violet light only the bones were uncovered as the clothing fell by the way side. Before the last notes faded I was surrounded with policemen and taken away to the charge office. Bones and all. The person in charge fitted in with the shocking behaviour of our police force. The obvious alcohol he had consumed made him miss the point. He could not tell a bone from a stocking. He ordered me thrown in to the cell for the night. Then I was to appear in court the next morning.

I knew what it meant when the bottom fell out your world. My being turned in to a sob. I was innocent in this case. I had as much power as a black new born baby in the South Africa of the seventies. Walking to the gallows could not be worse.

The policeman answering to instructions to take me away was at my side and leading me towards the cells. Did he feel the sad fear come through my arm where he was gently touching me or did my Foster parents prayers set in again?

As if Bat Man, the protecting angel intervened just in time. The officer, on the way to the cells, leading me by the elbow, took a wrong turn. We ducked and dived the James Bond way and he ended up with the ‘merchandise’ under the protecting wing of him and his wife at their friendly little flat somewhere in the civilian life. I was given a hot chocolate and tucked in to bed by this godly couple. Early the next morning he maneuvered me to appear in court without anyone suspecting that I never saw the inside of the cells.

The case was thrown out. There was no case! Is anybody held accountable for unjust behaviour? How my heart bled for the black people of South Africa. I pray that they also had the opportunity to experience the kindness of godly people along the way.

Skeletons in my closet

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About GlendaKempHarper

My name is Glenda Harper. I was Glenda Kemp, the "Snake dancer". When I was in my 20’s, I exposed my body. Now I am in my 60’s, I expose my spirit. visit http://readandpraywithglenda.wordpress.com/about/ for more

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