– I daresay had I not met Mandla before I started the job I would still be single, fully satisfied, working late each day and creating new goals for myself.
My immediate superior is the Director General of Tourism in the Minister’s Office, a useless chap who is one of those remnants from the apartheid era who seems to be our token white guy – another interesting aspect of this country we all love. I’ve noticed that in the ‘New South Africa’, to use an overused and abused term, corporations usually employ a token black person to show that they are willing to transform, and government usually keeps a token white person to prove that the blacks are not taking over everything in the country and giving all the jobs to their relatives. This is how we in the DOT got saddled with our boss. JD (Johann du Preez, not to be confused with the hip-hop JD) as we all call him, seems to have zero knowledge of tourism. He had no idea where the Hector Peterson Museum was, or even who Hector Peterson was, last time he was here and I had the pleasure of taking him on a tour of places of interest in Johannesburg. And he seems content in his ignorance, unless he feels someone wants his job. Fortunately for him, none of us provincial EDs want his job, because we are glad to have our own fiefdoms far away from Pretoria, sorry Tshwane, politics. All of us, however, have to write him monthly reports on what we are up to, and his poor PA has to compile these into one document every time JD has to pretend to the head honcho (Mr Minister) that he is actually working and overseeing all provinces satisfactorily. It’s a small price to pay to stay away from Tshwane: a town mired in apartheid traditions even to this day – I visit there only if I absolutely have to.
The beauty of having offices in Soweto is that, nowadays, it seems to be the ‘in’ place for tourists coming to Gauteng. The other beauty of working in Soweto is that when I am not involved with my usual hectic schedule (read: when I do not create a busy schedule for myself), I get to drive to and from work with Mandla, since he has set up his surgery in Soweto.
Mandla, by the way, is a cardiologist who initially got into medicine because he ‘wanted to make a difference’. After six months working at Bara upon his return from Harvard Med, he realised that making a difference may make your conscience feel great but it seldom pays the bills.
So he set up shop – a surgery and pharmacy – with two friends in Orlando West.
His colleagues are Chukwu Anyaokwu, a Nigerian divorcé, Romeo, and surgeon (in that order), and the pharmacist, Kamau Kariithi. The three of them do a pretty splendid business: Chukwu charms, Mandla listens, and Kamau has a marvellous Kikuyu thrift that keeps the business side going. Their patients love them. Apparently though, the doctors deal more with sexually transmitted infections and dispensing Anti-Retroviral Treatments than anything they specialised in.
Mandla having a surgery works out well for both of us as it ensures one of us has a normal nine to five schedule, and this is the reason he is the listed emergency contact at Hintsa’s pre-school.
I love Mondays, I really do, because they hold the promise of a fresh start. However, this was not the case today. On arrival at the office my useless deputy had bungled the budget I am supposed to submit to the DG by tomorrow for our annual financial report. I was stuck with doing all the facts and figures, in addition to rushing to Ubuntu Kraal at lunchtime to ensure that the logistics for the four-day conference starting the next day would run smoothly and guarantee us more American conferences in future. At the end of the day, I carried my work home on a laptop so I could complete and email the budget before I went to bed.
As if that were not bad enough, my bloody maid showed that she is total trailer trash and unused to cleaning floor tiles. Despite my having Cobra One-Step in the cleaning cabinet, she had mopped the floors with water and soap, leaving streaks all over. To add salt to the wound, she took it upon herself to be ‘helpful’ by making supper. The supper comprised boiled ribs (who the hell boils ribs?) swimming in water and oil, with tomatoes, onions and green pepper for company. The starch component was half-cooked rice. Did this woman think my family was gonna eat this? I take my food very seriously (my bum did not get this big from nothing). I get extra-annoyed when a meal is badly prepared, which accounts for why I don’t often eat at other people’s houses.
I knew she meant well but, having already had a sucky day, I could not find it in me to be diplomatic and went to bang on her door. She opened the door still wearing the pink two-piece work uniform that I had bought her. I started on a polite note, asking her how her day was. ‘Oh, very nice,’ she gushed. ‘I met MaRosie next door and she said she will take me to see Pertunia and we can go for tea over there.’
Ja ja ja. I didn’t want a blow-by-blow account of her day, I just wanted her not to mess up my house. So I thanked her for making dinner, told her that was not one of her duties since Mandla and I preferred to cook for ourselves, and that anyway I had brought Chinese home. ‘I have left the food for you, why don’t you come by and get it so you won’t need to cook tomorrow?’ I added, thinking to myself that my maid almost made Siz seem like a good cook. Almost, but not quite. Why couldn’t she be more like Pertunia, who was as gourmet a chef as a maid can ever be?
When she came into the house to get her boiled ribs and half-cooked rice, I gave her blow-by-blow instructions on how to mop the floor. Can you believe having to teach a thirty-five-year-old woman such a fundamental? Damn, and I thought madamhood was going to be easy. Men never seem to straighten maids out in any home situation, and this always makes madams look like queen bitches. It makes me wonder, are maids a male conspiracy to destroy female camaraderie?
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
