This is something we see every day in South Africa. This is with love to the “construction workers” who help build our cities and towns.
Back of the bakkie people
Huddled
Warm bodies
Remembering the comfort of
snatched sleep
Toes curl onto the bakkie floor
trying not to fall of at the brakes
Thinking of half past four
Head down
hands in pockets
A wave for a child
An encouraging, bright word, for a child
Walking through gravel
Stones spitting out
rising sun creating silhouttes
Eight rand taxi fare saved
Blowing out puffs
of morning steam
Hands in armpits
So this
Is our Jozi dream
The waiting men
Waiting for tea
Waiting for lunch
Waiting for that good life
to come your way
Back to the shack
The shared room
The newspaper curtain
The row of spotless takkies drying in the last heat of the day
Not a nameless casualty today
No paramedic calling me buddy
Buddy? Can you breathe?
What’s your name? Can you tell me your name?
Faceless and nameless
In Jozi
