My first uneasy feeling that all was not right with my little world was when l was only 5 years old.

We lived on the edge of the mining town, , then. The modern rows of townhouses that mushroomed in the late seventies, eighties reminded me of our house in Randfontein . Rows of houses with  chimnies were built by the mining companies  for their white workers. Coal stoves provided hot water and were also used for cooking. Each house had a bathroom, but the toilet was outside in the backyard. So chamber pots were still part of our lives, even though we had running water. I suppose it looked like a scene from a Catherine Cooksen novel!                              Each house had a room for a domestic (black woman) servant. She was not allowed, visitors , however, not ever her own husband   There was electricity in the room, but no running  water. We never had a servant so I was curious to see what there rooms looked like. The white people in the house provided a single divan bed and maybe a table and a chair. The bed was put on bricks so that the Thokoloshie could not get to them.The Thokoloshi is a mythical troll like creature that was /is very real to the blacks. Superstion was/is still rife even though they go to church on Sunday! Most of them had a little Primus stove on which they could cook or boil water.The black servants preferred tea. I assumed it was the influence of the British as we were still under the empire’s rule.

I became friends with Selina, the servant next door. She showed me her room, but was not allowed  inside ! She said we would get into trouble if l would  be found in he, .room…. I soon discovnered  that these black ladies did all the work in the houses,    from taking out the stinking, enamel chamber pots in the morning, to minding the children , cooking and cleaning the house plus mountains of laundry! I was confused for they were at the beck and call of everyone in the house.

The saddest thing  was that they had  to  leave their children behindin some rural village where the ‘gogo’ or another relative raised the children. There was no fixed salary paid to to them and they sent most of it ‘home’ for the children’s needs.

One morning l saw Selina and an excited little girl walking to the busstop. They were holding  hands, chattering and laughing happily. I knew Selina had a rare day of (once a month) and she was taking her daughter to town… Sudden panic made me run to my mom.. I loved her dearly, l could not bear the thought of being seperate from seeing her only once a month! That convinced me:, it was wrong :little girls should  be with their mothers! That night the little girl went ‘home’ again..

 

 

 

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