A food parcel was delivered at home last week –
Ironically it didn’t have food.
Instead it contained a badly put together letter of two paragraphs from my neighbour, the street committee who is close friends with local ward councillor.
Said letter was written in barely readable cursive addressed to my unemployed mother, apologising to her for her name not making it to food parcel list which neighbour put together instructed by ward councillor. As neighbour put together the infamous list the process was hijacked by another cabal of the street committee who tore it apart and began a rigorous process of putting together their own list of family and friends.
I spend days listening to my stomach grumble as it competes with the FM radio for noise.
I spend nights before I sleep cutting out food stuff from advertisements catalogues from Shoprite and Checkers.
Trying to forget I’m hungry.
Mother says this shall pass if we wash our hands with soap,sanitize frequently, observe social distancing and only go outside when extremely necessary.