What is a Township? Rolling scrubland of corrugated iron dwellings, interspersed with brightly colored remnants of old fabric...which, in a previous life, were elegantly draped curtains or patchwork bedspreads. Residing in amongst all of this tatty material are displaced human beings with no material wealth whatsoever.
Where do you go to my lovely? I walk everywhere come rain or shine, carrying my knarled, twisted bark of sugar cane, gleaned from the nearest plantation and tied together with recycled twine frayed to perfection. If I can sell my wares by the roadside, I can afford twenty Rand to step on board one of the many hundreds of local taxi buses, speeding endlessly up and down the dusty road that lies before me. How brave can you get, knowing only three buses overturned recklessly this week. That was a total of forty less passengers then to worry about picking up here there and everywhere.
How do you compare the cost of living? Working as a maid in a local four star guest house, provides me with many, messy chores and endless bed sheets to turn around, for the grand sum of eighty Rand for an eight hour day. Eighty eight would be two fat ladies if Bingo was played out here..sadly no chance of a jackpot then. Fat ladies are everywhere anyway, so who needs a card to mark...
When will I see you again? Sadly never! Eight is no magic, only a tragic number for me, as you were eight years old when you fell over in the makeshift, potholed waste ground surrounding our tin dwelling. The broken leg was never detected as a paid hospital visit was unaffordable. Your constant limp became an everyday occurrence. Charity in adversity was forthcoming from the generosity of a kind employer who witnessed my worries and concerns over your deteriorating condition and quickly transported you, cash in hand, to the local clinic. Too little to late. You passed away that evening and I will never know why. Inquests and coroners do not exist in this land. I was never educated much to learn of long lettered words so I have to take " septicemia " as a suggested cause of death and a brand new word I will never forget........
Comments
hulsey | November 27, 2011 - 11:51
A well-written sad story. We in the UK are fortunate that we have the National Health, but with this inept government, that may be about to end. A friend of mine has a daughter who is engaged to an African. He was invited over there and was astounded when he found that they were living in a coorugated home, just as you described. He made his excuses and moved into a hotel. Me, personally would have accepted the invitation as not to insult the host. I do hope that this story is not true, Miss Polly. Anyway, I enjoyed it.
insertponceyfre... | November 27, 2011 - 13:57
I enjoyed it too
Miss Polly | November 27, 2011 - 15:38
Hi Hulsey
unfortunately...this is all true, as I wrote it last night, sitting in my best friends guest house in Port Edward (my first SA experience) It happened to the son of a beautiful young lady called Isabella, who works here, a year ago...how do you ever come to terms with such a waste of a young life??? The township is my slant, I have seen many sights during my stay here but I have to say the Black south African peoples met so far are just the smiliest people on the planet, with no material wealth whatsoever..So what does that tell you...???