The aroma of freshly cut stems fills the carriage, mixed subtly with the smell of freshly smoked cigarette, the sweat of a long day. "Kruie...Kruie" croaks a peaceful voice of a Rasta as he passes each row of faux leather seats filled with liquorice allsorts of people. "Vir jou suiker....ja" a well dressed middle age woman starts discussing her health problem as normally as one would expect in a doctors consulting room..."Ja, net een keer 'n dag...vir suiker... So jy vil hoeveel he? 40grams..." He holds up 4 fingers and disappear up the carriage to his dispensary to collect the patients prescription.
"Blessed is the man who giveth, or the one who does not worry" sings the herbalist before he abruptly stops to have a political discussion with a young cape coloured... "Kyk, almal sal mos huise kry...hulle moet net wag..." His voice fades as he leave the carriage on his mission unknown.
I love South Africa...the rich tapestry of life away from the sanitation of wealth refreshes my hope in mankind.
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