CHAPTER 7
FALSE HOPE
After the two rounds of darts we went home. Where we each retreated to our respective sleeping areas, Bongani and I had decided to go the home Affairs Offices in Pretoria to apply for work permits. So we had to wake up early in the morning so that we could be served at the Home Affairs offices. We left at 5.30 am for Pretoria which was not far from Johannesburg. As the sun rose steadily a new day was beginning. There was a long line as many people were also seeking work permits not only from Zimbabwe but from other countries. At first the line was a bit slow but it began to gather pace and started to move much faster. I saw a group of Somalis who told us they had walked from their country to South Africa. Most of these guys were pale looking, one of the guys told us a chilling account of how they had encountered a lion in the Kruger National Park and how one of his friend lost his life to the lion. The Somalis were seeking asylums. Finally after hours in the line our turn came. The process on itself was a bit cumbersome and there was a lot of red tape. We had to move from one room to the other I didn’t like the response from some of the workers at the offices. Some of the workers at the Home Affairs Offices were polite but most of them were just rough, especially this short and bold guy who spoke rudely. His voice will forever be in my mind even if I have amnesia I would recognise his voice. In huge contrast to this guy a lady in her middle ages always with a smile who was polite seemed to be enjoying her work in spite of the pile of paperwork that was on her desk. My mother had told it was going to be difficult trying to ink out a living in a foreign land. So after submitting our papers the waiting game ensued. Whilst we waited for our work permits, Bongani was employed as a clerk by his Brother’s mother at his supermarket in Johannesburg. I was able to find work at a construction company owned by a man by the name of Francois de Wit. You could hear by de Wit’s accent that he was a pure Afrikaner. His English had that Afrikaner corruption evident to this was when he pronounced the word there as threh. Workers nicknamed him fatty boom-boom because he had a big belly and was a bit overweight. His belly had this wobbling effect where it covered a great deal of lower abdomen. My job at the construction site was to unload and carry cement, bricks and other building materials to the building area. I have to admit the work was tiring. Although the job was hard I kept working harder and harder each day because I knew the remuneration was good. I had agreed with Francois de Wit on my salary and I was pleased with the offer. Each day brought its own fair of obstacles. At least no dime was spent on breakfast and lunch because it was prepared for us at work. One day whilst I was at work I received a call from Bongani, who sounded chuffed and ecstatic. He told me that his work permit had been approved. I am so happy for my best friend. My permit on the other hand has yet to be approved. All the construction was being done in Johannesburg and I was still staying with Dumisani. Bongani and I had planned to move out after the month end when we received our pay cheques. We had agreed that we would find a one room to rent, and we would share the costs. We did want to overstay our welcome at Dumisani’s place that’s why we wanted to move out. After the month end had come I waited for my salary but nothing showed, four days after the day my paycheque should had been paid, me and nine other undocumented foreigners who were also in the same predicament as me, converged at de Wit’s office. The other workers who had the proper documents received their pay in time. We aired our grievances to de Wit but it seemed to fall on deaf ears. Unbeknown to us, was that de Wit had called SAPS the South African Police Services to notify them of illegal migrates who were besieging his office. When we saw the SAPS pickup truck coming we ran as fast and far as our legs could do. The whole experience left totally distraught. This experience taught me that some people only care about maximising profits they don’t care about other human beings. A month had been wasted working for nothing. All that sweat shaded for zilch. Day in day out I laboured and slaved in the hope that, in the end I could repatriate back home some money for my mother’s medical expenses. With all the things happening in my life I just saw no way out. De Wit didn’t even have a conscience to think that the undocumented workers he took advantage of also have families to support like him. No words can best describe a person like de Wit. In short I will just say inhuman. After running tired without pay I went home. I didn’t know the whereabouts of the other nine guys, because when we fled we ran in different directions. Arriving at the flat looking all tired and weary I head straight to sleep. Three days earlier Bongani had gone for interviews at Absa for a position in the accounts department. Dumisani had his set of keys to the house, I had mine and Bongani had his own. I sat on the sofa as I contemplated about going back to Zimbabwe. I had worked my socks off only to receive nothing. As I sat watching the television thoughts of happiness started to flood my line of thought. To me happiness was a foreign concept something that I could only dream about. Questioning myself if ever things are going to good in my life. Manifestation of calamity after calamity have curtailed me from accomplishing my potential. Maybe instead of mourning about missed opportunities I should focus on what I have and how I can use it to my advantage. As my thoughts grow deeper and deeper I hear the door been opened. “Today you arrived early from work.” said Bongani as he closed the door. “I was chased from work.” I replied. “What for?” asked Bongani as he sat down. So I explained to him about how de Wit had exploited me and the other undocumented foreign workers and how he had called the police to arrest us. “That’s rough.” said Bongani. “So how was work?” I asked. “Work was fine.” “People back home are expecting me to send them money but now, it’s impossible.” “Don’t despair, something will come up soon, just wait and see.” said Bongani. “It better happen sooner rather than later, because if doesn’t happen It will push me to do things I didn’t intend doing.” “Well I have good news, remember the interview I went to.” said Bongani. “The Absa one.” I replied. “Yes that one.” “What about it?” I asked. “I got the job. The first 3 months will be on trial bases. If I impress then there will give a permanent position.” “That’s great news. Praise be to the almighty.” I said as I stood up and embraced Bongani. “It will be great if I can get the job on a permanent position. The packs include a company car and a good salary.” said Bongani. “What about a company wife?” “I didn’t see that clause.” replied Bongani. “Which Absa branch will you be working at?” I asked “In Pretoria, when last did you call home?” “Two days ago and I promised I would send something.” I replied. “Don’t worry I will give you some of my salary.” said Bongani. “I can’t accept, I think it will be best if I returned home.” “You have in numerous way. You have to accept. I think you should just wait a bit and I assure something will turn up.” Bongani kept giving me that hope that it would all turn up good. He was going to start working at Absa the following week and today was his last official day working at his uncle’s supermarket. “So are going to commit or are you going to stay in Pretoria?” I asked. “I am going to stay in Pretoria, The pay I received for this month will be enough for rent, food and transport.” replied Bongani. “I think I will be returning home in the following days with the money left.” I said. “You can come and stay with me in Pretoria, I know you are not comfortable staying here any longer.” “I will think about it.” “Whilst you stay with me you can look for work in Pretoria.” said Bongani. Looking for a place to work in a big corporations was a difficult thing especially if you don’t have a work permit. Whilst we were chatting Dumisani arrived. I told him my ordeal and he was very sympathetic he even offered to find work for me. Today drinks were on Bongani as he was celebrating his new found employment. There was no need to go to the bar since Bongani had bought two six packs of Amstel long tom beer on his way home. So we drank 4 long tons each. Days came and went. After some days of extensive and rigorous periods of pondering and meditating on Bongani’s suggestion I decided to move to Pretoria with Bongani. Dumisani then gave Bongani some money to buy kitchen utensils, he also gave us two sleeping bags and the radio which he didn’t use. The radio was in good shape. Dumisani not only opened his door to his cousin but also to a complete stranger a thing that I would always be grateful for. He had the spirit of humanity, that ability to share with others. I didn’t know if the hope I was holding on to was true or was just a figment of my imagination.