GHANDI SQUARE


Early in the morning when most people’s dreams are interrupted by yawns and alarm clocks, life in Town is already buzzing into the everyday cycle of events.


A white fat lady I always see is in full-size-frilly pants that differ with her lively rich top and skewed flat shoes. Her age bears no relevance. The huge tall buildings agree with her being everyday, and she looks like an ant compared to their stature. With her green, stuffed Pick n Pay bag, she  walks rather slowly, but understands that she is in a hurry. 


A black guy hurriedly pushes a huge trolley packed with banana boxes and misses a passer-by just by an Inch as he looks back furiously. The racket from his trolley makes him look rough. Another guy stares for a bit as he watches the incident & whistles, but continues walking nonetheless, nodding his head.


Feeling annoyed myself, I charge with big steps towards the robot. It gives its word to remain green until I have crossed-over but the orange sign notifies me different and the red stops me abruptly. Trickles of sweat on my face make me patient.


Further down, adolescent scholar girls excitedly run to hug each other, gossiping and catching up they enter the school-bus and join a gang in blue dark uniforms. They are good girls; they catch the bus in time, easing the mood of the bus-driver.


In the corner, two young males also in school uniform spoil it, with their un-matching skull-caps and drag on half-a-cigarette. In their rudest boy-language they chat & laugh louder than the working class people next to them. They quietly understand, their faces not giving away their harsh opinions of the matter.


This is the norm in Ghandi square


His name is engraved proudly and with long lasting material on the brick paving they walk on and his statue resides above, in the morning sky making certain that his character exists courageously. Underground instead, are heavy hip-hop beats and future Kwaito stars who believe in the “Madiba Magic” by exchanging tapes and CD’s before class begins.


Being young counts
Madiba is old
Ghandi is DEAD
In this crowd: true & ready icons are hidden…

By Nomfusi Xinindlu

The Collection: Whispers of the day & Monologues of Today