The gun symbolizes the Smaleses’ loss of freedom and agency. It also symbolizes the hypocrisy that underlies the Smaleses’ liberalism. Bam’s shotgun is one of the few items from the Smales family’s old life in Johannesburg that they manage to take with them as they hurriedly flee the violent atmosphere of the city for the safety of July’s rural village. Bam didn’t use his shotgun for much in his former life—only to shoot game-birds. While a more powerful type of gun might summon forth ideas of authority and protection, Bam’s shotgun is little more than a symbol of the nostalgia he feels for the freedom, privilege, and ease that he and his family enjoyed in their former life in Johannesburg. He doesn’t bring the gun to protect himself and his family against enemy forces—Bam’s gun is woefully ill-equipped for such a task. Instead, he brings the gun to remember the life he left behind: a life made possible by the oppressive system of apartheid that Bam claims to condemn. Bringing the gun as a memento of his former apartheid-era life reflects Bam’s hypocrisy. His decision to pack and meticulously covet a weapon that is useless aside from its sentimental value reveals how desperately, if unwittingly, Bam clings to a social order that disenfranchised Black South African people like July while affording white people like Bam and his family the freedom of leisure. When Bam returns to his hut to discover that the gun is missing, he doesn’t grieve his lost ability to protect his family—he grieves the loss of the former, more unrestrained way of life he left behind.
Bam’s Shotgun Quotes in July’s People
He would no sooner shoot a buck than a man; and he did not keep any revolver under his pillow to defend his wife, his children or his property in their suburban house.
He understood, for the first time, that he was a killer. A butcher like any other in rubber boots among the slush of guts, urine and blood at the abattoir, although July and his kin would do the skinning and quartering. The acceptance was a kind of relief he didn’t want to communicate or discuss.
She saw that he wouldn’t answer the child; but he was back there: if he couldn’t pick up the phone and call the police whom he and she had despised for their brutality and thuggery in the life lived back there, he did not know what else to do.
She understood although she knew no word. Understood everything: what he had had to be, how she had covered up to herself for him, in order for him to be her idea of him. But for himself—to be intelligent, honest, dignified for her was nothing; his measure as a man was taken elsewhere and by others. She was not his mother, his wife, his sister, his friend, his people.