Tandem Blog ||Sorry Missus
A cacophony of voices derailed her train of thought…
“Ran a bag, ran a bag!” “Avocaro pere maak ie hare mere!” “Mango, Mango. Where the woman goes the man goes.”
It’s been years since she’s last been in her motherland. A while since she’s seen Cape Town in all its splendour. Not the watered down tourist version people see in guides. The fancy hotels at the V & A, Robben Island, the cable way at Table mountain. Nor Clifton or Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens. Of all the fine offerings Cape Town can dish none of it can compare to the hawkers at their finest, rhyming away in their hustling.
Her aimless wander brought her right to the place that holds more memories to the average Capetonian than any of the must see venues tourists wish to see. The place that year end shopping dreams were made of. Die parare. After which your family would proceed to the Company Gardens and eat slap chips and drink Cabana juice on the grass.
“How much are your peaches per pound?” She asks one of the vendors with the deity of the queen herself. Imagining the succulent fruit burst with flavour in her mouth.
“My bruh, Gerald koh hoor hier! Die goose praat hier van pounds. Ek verstaan ie so mooi ie.” The hawkers motions for the other to to help. “Sorry missus, no pounds. We only sell the fruit. R5 en R7 a bag.”
Concealing her smile for Gerald and the uncle’s benefit she goes again. “Uncle ek issie ‘n missus ie.” She smiles. “Ek het net gou vergeet ek is nou by die huis. Gee sommer vir my twee pakkies. My ma, die missus, het die gelikes.”
She pays for it and walks away with the bags. For a brief moment she forgot all her cares. Home will never be the same without her mom but a little taste of the parade reminded her of days gone by.
Now to pull the plug and end her mother’s suffering… “Sorry Missus. Sorry mom. I wish I didn’t have to do this.”
This post was part of a creative writing exercise between two of my Cape Town blog tribe and I. 1 Topic + 3 Bloggers.
Read their posts on their links below: