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chocolates. We’d hit the jackpot. We started going back again and again to steal more. We’d wait for the shops to start to close, then we’d go and sit against the gate, acting like we were just hanging out. We’d check to make sure the coast was clear, and then one of us would reach in, grab a chocolate, and drink the whiskey. Reach in, grab a chocolate, drink the rum. Reach in, grab a chocolate, drink the brandy. We did this every weekend for at least a month, having the best time. Then we pushed our luck too far. It was a Saturday night. We were hanging out at the entrance to the stationery shop, leaning up against the gate. I reached in to grab a chocolate, and at that exact moment a mall cop came around the corner and saw me with my arm in up to my shoulder. I brought my hand out with a bunch of chocolates in it. It was almost like a movie. I saw him. He saw me. His eyes went wide. I tried to walk away, acting natural. Then he shouted out, “Hey! Stop!” And the chase was on. We bolted, heading for the doors. I knew if a guard cut us off at the exit we’d be trapped, so we were hauling ass as fast as we could. We cleared the exit. The second we hit the parking lot, mall cops were coming at us from every direction, a dozen of them at least. I was running with my head down. These guards knew me. I was in that mall all the time. The guards knew my mom, too. She did her banking at that mall. If they even caught a glimpse of who I was, I was dead. We ran straight across the parking lot, ducking and weaving between parked cars, the guards right behind us, yelling. We made it to the petrol station out at the road, ran through there, and hooked left up the main road. They chased and chased and we ran and ran, and it was awesome. The risk of getting caught was half the fun of being naughty, and now the chase was on. I was loving it. I was shitting myself, but also loving it. This was my turf. This was my neighborhood. You couldn’t catch me in my neighborhood. I knew every alley and every street, every back wall to climb over, every fence with a gap big enough to slip through. I knew every shortcut you could possibly imagine. As a kid, wherever I went, whatever building I was in, I was always plotting my escape. You know, in case shit went down. In reality I was a nerdy kid with almost no friends, but in my mind I was an important and dangerous man who needed to know where every camera was and where all the exit points were. I knew we couldn’t run forever. We needed a plan. As Teddy and I booked past the fire station there was a road off to the left, a dead end that ran into a metal fence. I knew that there was a hole in the fence to squeeze through and on the far side was an empty field behind the mall that took you back to the main road and back to my house. A grown-up couldn’t fit through the hole, but a kid could. All my years of imagining the life of a secret agent for myself finally paid off. Now that I needed an escape, I had one. “Teddy, this way!” I yelled. “No, it’s a dead end!” “We can get through! Follow me!” He didn’t. I turned and ran into the dead end. Teddy broke the other way. Half the mall cops followed him, half followed me. I got to the fence and knew exactly how to squirm through. Head, then shoulder, one leg, then twist, then the other leg—done. I was through. The guards hit the fence behind me and couldn’t follow. I ran across the field to a fence on the far side, popped through there, and then I was right on the road, three blocks from my house. I slipped my hands into my pockets and casually walked home, another harmless
pedestrian out for a stroll. Once I got back to my house I waited for Teddy. He didn’t show up. I waited thirty minutes, forty minutes, an hour. No Teddy. Fuck. I ran to Teddy’s house in Linksfield. No Teddy. Monday morning I went to school. Still no Teddy. Fuck. Now I was worried. After school I went home and checked at my house again, nothing. Teddy’s house again, nothing. Then I ran back home. An hour later Teddy’s parents showed up. My mom greeted them at the door. “Teddy’s been arrested for shoplifting,” they said. Fuuuck. I eavesdropped on their whole conversation from the other room. From the start my mom was certain I was involved. “Well, where was Trevor?” she asked. “Teddy said he wasn’t with Trevor,” they said. My mom was skeptical. “Hmm. Are you sure Trevor wasn’t involved?” “No, apparently not. The cops said there was another kid, but he got away.” “So it was Trevor.” “No, we asked Teddy, and he said it wasn’t Trevor. He said it was some other kid.” “Huh…okay.” My mom called me in. “Do you know about this thing?” “What thing?” “Teddy was caught shoplifting.” “Whhaaat?” I played dumb. “Noooo. That’s crazy. I can’t believe it. Teddy? No.” “Where were you?” my mom asked. “I was at home.” “But you’re always with Teddy.” I shrugged. “Not on this occasion, I suppose.” For a moment my mom thought she’d caught me red-handed, but Teddy’d given me a solid alibi. I went back to my room, thinking I was in the clear. — The next day I was in class and my name was called over the PA system. “Trevor Noah, report to the principal’s office.” All the kids were like, “Ooooohhh.” The announcements could be heard in every classroom, so now, collectively, the whole school knew I was in trouble. I got up and walked to the office and waited anxiously on an uncomfortable wooden bench outside the door. Finally the principal, Mr. Friedman, walked out. “Trevor, come in.” Waiting inside his office was the head of mall security, two uniformed police officers, and my and Teddy’s homeroom teacher, Mrs. Vorster. A roomful of silent, stone-faced white authority figures
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Copyright © 2016 by Trevor Noah Al
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IMMORALITY ACT, 1927 To prohibit il
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RUN Sometimes in big Hollywood movi
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like bouncers at a club, and hold t
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failed her she’d use her wits. If
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you stealing our customers? Why are
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there, this little boy and his mom,
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BORN A CRIME I grew up in South Afr
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Many of the prostitutes in town wer
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he hadn’t, but once I existed he
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Traveling around the world today, I
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TREVOR, PRAY I grew up in a world r
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That’s all she did, all day, ever
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speakeasy. The shebeens were where
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using sonar. Every time she called
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praying continued. It went on for s
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CHAMELEON One afternoon I was playi
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As a kid I understood that people w
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was an ocean of black, like someone
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Before apartheid, any black South A
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and uncles had gone off to the citi
Page 46 and 47: through those. My books were my pri
Page 48 and 49: If we weren’t at school or work o
Page 50 and 51: Apartheid, for all its power, had f
Page 52 and 53: at school used overhead projectors
Page 54 and 55: She shrugged again. “So sad. I ho
Page 56 and 57: “What?” “Look, did you or did
Page 58 and 59: When I was seven years old, my moth
Page 60 and 61: I grew up in a black family in a bl
Page 62 and 63: oth. She brought them home, and I w
Page 64 and 65: They went back and forth. This woma
Page 66 and 67: ROBERT My father is a complete myst
Page 68 and 69: dad’s, where we’d watch Formula
Page 70 and 71: A bottle of Sprite. Custard with ca
Page 73 and 74: W hen Dutch colonists landed at the
Page 75 and 76: your grandfather couldn’t keep hi
Page 77 and 78: Things like that happened a lot. I
Page 79 and 80: Revenge truly is sweet. It takes yo
Page 82 and 83: A YOUNG MAN’S LONG, AWKWARD, OCCA
Page 84 and 85: Valentine’s card and the flowers
Page 86 and 87: OUTSIDER After finishing primary sc
Page 88 and 89: work for it—and I still get my br
Page 93 and 94: me the digits one by one as I wrote
Page 95: COLORBLIND At Sandringham I got to
Page 99 and 100: “Is it David?” “No.” “Ria
Page 104 and 105: I got up onstage and Tom did some t
Page 106 and 107: There was a red Mazda that we’d h
Page 108 and 109: hair and started painting this crea
Page 110 and 111: “Are you ready?” I said. “Let
Page 112: I’d been dating a girl for over a
Page 115 and 116: GO HITLER! When I was in grade nine
Page 117 and 118: Business was booming. By matric I w
Page 119 and 120: Back then, most DJs could spin for
Page 121 and 122: someone must be the toughest guy of
Page 123 and 124: My mind was racing, trying to figur
Page 125 and 126: THE CHEESE BOYS My friend Bongani w
Page 127 and 128: settlement going on. Third, Fourth,
Page 129 and 130: In the hood, even if you’re not a
Page 131 and 132: “But who did this belong to?” I
Page 133 and 134: “Hey, let’s make a deal. We’l
Page 135 and 136: Everyone must know that your succes
Page 137 and 138: e a whole lot harder for an investm
Page 139 and 140: O nce, when I was ten years old, vi
Page 141 and 142: lesson, and now that lesson is the
Page 143 and 144: me aside and told me what I was in
Page 145 and 146: first night, everyone was giving me
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couldn’t afford anything but a st
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“I-I’m not fine, Your Honor. I
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M y favorite thing to eat as a kid,
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could lift car engines and gearboxe
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Xhosa woman no less, a culture whos
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“Respect?! You almost burned down
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She gives and gives and gives; that
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on it as well. Clients were getting
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Bramley, three neighborhoods away,
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wouldn’t happen again, but it was
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“This is all I can do,” she sai
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“Where are you now?” I said.
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times he pulled the trigger, and fo
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emergency room to give us an update
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W hen my mother was shot, so much h
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For my mother. My first fan. Thank
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR TREVOR NOAH is a c
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