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Pilgrims Of Fortune Part 1

Men are naturally survival mortals. Each time resources fail in one place, he instinctively seeks enhanced opportunities elsewhere.  It ma...

Men are naturally survival mortals. Each time resources fail in one place, he instinctively seeks enhanced opportunities elsewhere. 

It matters less how prolonged or disgraceful the road to salvation might be – provided his desires are finally met.

By Derick Matsengarwodzi

Johannesburg the city of gold, to an outsider, prospects are infinite; to a resident, the tests are limitless.

In February 2008, I arrived in Johannesburg from Harare harbouring anonymous expectations for my destination.

I had nothing on me except my bag with frayed outfits plus a tertiary qualification. This is all I had, so I guarded my assets jealously. It was still early morning, around 6:00 am but the streets were already packed. 
The City Of Gold 

People assembled from every alley, promptly assuming their various regular positions of trade.

At one active spot, salespersons issued pamphlets advertising diverse wares. They overcrowd the pavement leaving no openings to penetrate. 

As I squeezed past; one fellow flapped a flyer in my path. He had a golden tooth, a bona fide resident, I gathered. I was determined to peruse the leaflet but also scared to snub his offer.

I am a city novice, so I obeyed his potent proposal. Accepting the handout ensured he received his wages. 

The haphazard flyer immediately aroused my curiosity. It had a promise of p.enis enlargement cream – a gel can do that.

Aizve, mashura padunhu! (this is bizarre).

I laughed conservatively, though.

This will be my first lighter moment since my arrival in the city of gold. Who cared about an elongated member when one does not have a shelter to stay? 

I folded it nicely and disposed it in the nearby garbage bin. 

Next to the bin is a heap of rotting garbage.

I heard a familiar, squeaking noise; it’s from two rodents copulating liberally in a nearby water drainage.

At least they are liberated with a place they call home, even if it’s a hole. 

What about me?

I am just another expectant soul in the heart of the heartless city of Johannesburg. 

As I contemplated my case, another male intruder unseated the passionate union; all the rats scattered into their dwellings.
Its Never Easy Being A Foreigner 

I finally got to a public telephone booth, inserted a few coins, and dialed a number that I picked from my green pocket diary. I listened alertly to the earpiece. The phone was ringing at the other end.

I waited for a while; probably the owner was contemplating whose number it was. The landline digits were prefixed with a 011; a Johannesburg landline code.

Finally, it was answered.

“Who is this?”

“Yes, it’s me, I am Philemon’s friend, and can I please speak to him?”

“This is not Philemon, it’s his young brother but I can pass on the message. Please go ahead”

“Thanks, please tell him to come and fetch me at the Park Station in Johannesburg, I will be waiting for him.”

“Okay, I will let him know that you have arrived, but he can only come there after work.” - 

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