Our neighborhoods are filled with absent fathers, noisy mothers, egotistical men and promiscuous teenagers. The fathers spend all day staring at the innocent butts of children while teenagers prioritize sexual relations they are not ready for.

The morning breeze is filled with herbs of a narcissistic man that cannot even heal himself. You can hear the screams of the drunk man splashed all over the face of the cheated wife. Your coffee tastes like the bitterness of the widowed lady across the street sweeping off the depths of despair surrounding her house covered in pessimistic water paint. You can see the fear exploding through the little kid caught in between the cheating husband and bitter stepmother.

Our houses are filled with discouraged uncles sleeping on couches covered in regrets from night to morning. The grandparents fill their bedrooms with prayers to help save the addicted cousin. The taverns are swamped with boys catching up on Kazier Chiefs loss passing joints mixed with crushed nails to make one crazy. The quiet streets have school transports filled with low self-esteemed Zulu men taking advantage of our little brothers and sisters during schools while the single mom takes the ring she inherited to Cash Crusaders to put crumbs on the table.

The carwash is packed with handsome guys waiting for their dirty machines that steal the dignity of school girls. On Sundays, drunk people spend their mornings eating meat on top of wardrobe doors. The open spaces you take on your way to spend eight hours with a manager who doesn’t understand the importance of emotional intelligence, are dumped with an abomination from a 13 year old scared to be in trouble with her 40 year old mother who throws loud moans all over the one roomed shack divided with nothing but a curtain from the early 80s which cost R5 with a man who sneaks into little girls pants

Our daycares are splashed with enthusiasm and surrounded by pink elephants and short giraffes painted by the drug- thirsty guy seeking money for what is going to fuck them up , what better way to escape their mother’s affair with alcohol. The determined 9 year old wakes the teeth less grandfather and keeps him clean for the day while taking out the wet plastic reeking lee under the blanket and hangs it on the linen.

The neighbors dogs are barking to the noises coming from the kitchen about the finished bread ate by the CV less uncle all day. The streets have a line of kids running to be first in line for Mabele porridge cooked by the sweet , childless woman from the feeding scheme 7’o clock in the morning.

The orange chair seek the butts of children wearing their parent’s adulterous actions. The classes are filled with progressed excited children for a new grade that will make them lose confidence for not understanding a single thing. The teachers carry disrespect coming from their unreasonable salaries. The principal looks over the 1000 heads covered in extensions that make the privileged look down on them.