Excerpt from the book Pocket Rainbow:
The drop hung suspended from the battered gutter, for a moment catching the sun in a sparkle of shimmering colours. The girl caught her breath in a short gasp of wonder at its sheer, unutterable beauty. The pale, grey-streaked patches of wall paint, too, caught the light, and reflected the warmth and hope of the newly washed sky. Finally, the drop loosened its hold, and wended its way earthwards. She breathed a painful sigh, and trudged homeward, toes curling in the mud.
The girl passed smartly-dressed workers returning home, high heels squelching in disgust as they tried to extricate themselves from the sludge. The township was not kind when it rained. She pushed her way between two narrowly adjacent shacks, crossed the open drain, pausing only briefly as she gagged on its fetid aroma, then, flapping her way past the newly-drenched washing hanging across her pathway, she reached the dark, damp tangle of corrugated iron and cardboard she now called home. She carefully unthreaded the wire from the door - her only protection against thieves - and stepped down into her sunken, windowless cubicle. The trapped heat caught the girl squarely in the face as she moved, and the familiar smell of pap[1] and Sunlight soap[2] greeted her gently. As her bare feet touched the concrete floor, she gave them a quick, complaining wiggle, and, stooping, moved gingerly toward the rear, where her tomato-box-seat stood proudly in one corner.
She glanced round the room, fleetingly pleased with its interior. The square-metre of green carpet-cut-off lent dignity next to the tired, musty smelling mattress her mother had retrieved from the streets. A faded brown and orange seventies-style duvet carefully covered the offending object, and performed the dual purpose of hiding most of her neatly-folded clothing that was stacked on the bed. It would not be suitable for long. She would have to find a way of raising everything off the floor because of the rats, but it would do as a start.
Her eyes travelled in the dim light from the open door to two large tins that served as pots. Shiny with scrubbing, they hung from the roof by the wire she had twisted around them for handles. Smaller tins served as cups, and an empty Omo[3] container would function adequately as a bucket for drawing water for a short time. The grass broom she had made stood tidily in a corner, having discharged its duty twice that day. No-one would have cause to call her one of those slovenly girls who were sloppy in their cleaning habits.
“The future’s bright, the future’s Mobi [4]”, blared the radio next door. She grimaced, momentarily angry at the words. Advertisers could be so insensitive! What hope did she have now? She shook her head firmly. She wasn’t going to give way to despair and anger. Not now. There were more important things, such as where to find food for tonight. At least it shouldn’t be too difficult. No one in Alex ever went hungry for long - people would often give to their neighbours, no matter how little they themselves had.
Shacks and house in Alexandra township
[1] pap: Afrikaans word used by black community for maize meal made into a stiff porridge that is more like soft, moist bread than gruel.
[2] Sunlight: Brand of bar of dark green soap used for hand-washing clothes. It is inexpensive, and doubles as a soap for washing the body.
[3] Omo: Brand of washing powder
[4] Mobi: Fictional Mobile phone operator
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