Creative Writing (3)
Amongst all the choas with commuters ransacking stations because of train cancellations, now there are rumours that Metrorail workers are planning to strike.
I thought that they are always on strike and have been striking ever since I can remember. Let's hope that it's just a rumour...
The ticket-verifier at the turnstile stands with her hands in her pockets, the collar of her jacket turned upwards and her head covered in a beany.
She yawns as she gleans over my ticket. I'm not sure whether her eyes are open. I’m not even sure if she is registering the information on the ticket.
"All Trains are running 10 minutes late" Voicemail Lady announces.
We aren’t really paying attention. We are used to this. The train eventually comes rushing into the station, pretending to be on time.
The vibe on board is not too vibrant. Capetonians are affected by the weather and temperatures. Cold and overcast weather in the middle of summer does not encourage us to have spontaneous conversations. We usually become withdrawn on days like this, but today someone luckily breaks the silence.
‘Climate Change’; it is a term enjoying prominence in the last decade with Cape Town and its Mediterranean climate being the front-runner of this phenomenon.
It’s a sunny windless morning with the smell of perfume and cologne trying to overwhelm the senses; each one has its own character and charm.
“Wat klap soe?” a guy asks a group of three friends as the train makes its way to the next station.
“It staan soe” a guy from the group replies.
“Hosh” the first guy replies.
“Gaan ôs soe dala my ma se kin?” another guy asks.
“Aweh ôs staan op haai nomme. ’n Man moet ’n kroon kyk, of wat sê die broese?” another guy in the group interjects, looking at the rest of the group.
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