Until you've heard from me (2/5)

By Drum Digital
17 March 2015

Sizwe thought it would be just another Sunday, until the girl sat down at the bus stop.

But Sizwe still had problems with his studies. He was trying to adjust to life as a first-year varsity student at the age of 26, after working for five years. His mama scolded him for “this rap nonsense” and told him to focus on his studies so he could get a bursary next year. He was the first in his family to go to university so he was under pressure to be “a good example for your brother”. In his mama’s words, ‘If you become an accountant, he will alsobe motivated’.”

The people at The Live Poetry had invited him to be a regular at their venue. And he was now starting to get a reasonable fee for his performances, which were gaining popularity. So Mama had finally accepted his poetic calling – it was now putting food on the table. AS CARS and trucks and buses flew down Jorissen Street they left cold gusts of wind behind them.

He saw a girl making her way from the opposite site of the road. Then his stare was interrupted by a womanly shadow flitting into the corner of his eye from the corner of his eye. He looked up as she passed him. She was wearing a purple, sleeveless top and black denim jeans. She looked good, but it was all “magazine hot”.

She was pretty, but so what? Just about every girl he’d seen since getting up that day looked beautiful and was wearing the latest fashions and long fake hair.

Convinced that only self-conscious and insecure women wore their hair like that, he pretended not to notice her, thinking she must be headed for the university. She took a seat in the other corner of the bus shelter and instinctively looked away when he looked at her, like a child who quickly retracts her hand when caught trying to steal sugar.

Maybe I should say something nice about her hair, he thought. Women put a lot into their hair; from chemicals to emotions, and it changes from being an accessory to a symbol of their personality.

To be continued...

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