uirky Johannesburg in the early hours of May, 21st 2003. Flocks of lost and found sheep filled the already packed Park station. Some of the men dragged along big grocery bags.

The lingering stench of amagwinya drew Sipho closer to the woman who sold them. Her face was stuffed with mud but still her smile was visible, she was making money for her babies, something which Sipho failed to do. He left his twins back in the dusty gravels of KZN back in 1986 when he and his friends sought greener pastures down to the mines of Jozi. He used to send them money but as soon as Jozi came alive, he devoted himself to a life of partying and feasting. Abandoning Nomzamo and the kids back home.

He became the ““to go guy” of Hillbrow and his youthful looks drew the ladies. He partied in every corner. But now his looks have faded and his money is gone with the wind.

He decided to return home with a suitcase of three trousers and a leather jacket. Life in Hillbrow had defeated him, his party comrades are too busy for him and he could no longer afford the rent.

He coughs into his tissue once more, his lungs burst. The lady behind the bucket of amagwinya twists her face and covers her mouth, she could close her bucket anytime soon.

“No relax Ma it’s a mild flu from the winter season you know how cold Jozi can get!” He coughs again.

“Ay, bhuti ufuna amagwinya amangaki?” talks the lady while wrapping her hands with a plastic bag to pull out the round fat cakes.

“Four, ma.”

In a second she hands him the loaded plastic. Sipho pats his pockets to search for money, he knows well he doesn’t have it. He looks at the lady and smiles then vanishes into thin air. Poor lady tried to yell for help but no one could catch a Tsotsi in a huge bubble of busy bees.

Tell us: What do you think will happen next?