In the taxi to their house, Bathandwa sits behind an elderly gentleman wearing glasses with thick lenses. He is reading a green pamphlet. She reads it over his shoulder.

WANT TO BUY APPLIANCES BUT NO MONEY? DAYS TOUGH? NEED SOME MONEY? COME TO EASYLOANS FOR CASH SOLUTIONS. EASY PAYMENT TERMS. GET INSTANT CASH TODAY.

Bathandwa closes her eyes in shame. How many vulnerable people has she convinced to borrow beyond their means, with her new orange pamphlets?

But as soon as she walks through the door of their house, something in her settles. Kokstad is still home.

When Gogo is asleep, she and Noluthando talk late into the night about everything: university, school, fashion, television and boyfriends.

When Noluthando falls asleep, Bathandwa goes to the kitchen for a drink. She opens the fridge. It’s good to see the fridge full with the groceries she bought. She looks up at the prepaid electricity meter. It reads high units because of the recharge she bought. She wishes things could always be this good for her family, but in a better house in a suburb somewhere by the sea. She sips her juice and calculates that in eighteen months, when she graduates, all her wishes will come true.

When Bathandwa wakes up early the next morning she finds Gogo is not feeling well. Her arthritis is acting up. She brings pain tablets and a heater into the bedroom.

“But the heater uses a lot of electricity,” Gogo protests.

“Don’t worry about electricity, Gogo. The recharge I bought will last three months with the heater on night and day. You stay comfortable while I fix this problem.”

Bathandwa heads to town with both of Gogo’s cards, the affidavit and certified copies of IDs.

At the garage ATM she checks the balance on the SASSA card and finds it to be zero. She checks the balance on the EasyLoans card by swiping airtime at the garage shop. The slip from the speed point says ‘insufficient funds’.

Bathandwa heads to the SASSA offices. The security guard directs her to the long queue at ‘Enquiries’. The line inches along while she kills time on the internet. By the time it is her turn it is one o’clock in the afternoon.

“Please get back to your seat. I am going out for my lunch break,” says the clerk when Bathandwa approaches the counter.

Bathandwa waits.

“How can I help you?” says the clerk, when she returns from her lunch break.

“Hi, I have a problem here. My grandmother found that there is no money in her account. I was wondering if there is a problem with her card.”

***

Tell us what you think: Why are queues, especially at government offices, often so very long and slow?