barbed wire

There was no water.

So they filled barrels and piled as many as could into the car, and headed for Katlehong.

The large white station wagon crept along the unfamiliar streets of the township.

Quietly, carefully.

A fat slug squeezing its way into crevices.

Willing itself invisible.

Past shebeens, scrappy supermarkets, skinny dogs, carboard boxes, tin houses and Goggos cooking their dinner on open fires next to the dusty road

…in search of Winicia’s dehydrated home.

They hauled the barrels inside and left.

As if they’d never been.

But for a sticky trail of white

…to be eroded by the dust of the land and the footprints of time.


Author & Storyteller: Andrea Zanin

Andrea is a writer, wife, mother and dreamer; also the author of this website. She moved to London in 2006 to earn £s, travel, see bands and buy 24-up Dr Martens—which she did, and then ended up staying. Andrea lives in North London with her husband (also a Saffa) and five children. She loves this grand old city but misses her home and wishes her children could say “lekker” (like a South African) and knew what a “khoki” is.

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