With the sudden vacation, eating became the pastime that everybody enjoyed most. So the following day, Bongani’s father sent him to buy groceries at the local supermarket.

At the store, Bongani’s eyes were greeted by a stultifying queue. It snaked from the supermarket gateway, along the main road, occasionally interrupted by honking traffic, and slithered into another narrow street. His vision stretched forward to locate its end, which seemed miles away in the morning drowsiness, but within the thin sliver of time that he had stood behind the last person, scores of other buyers had lengthened the tailing queue behind him.

In the queue, tired and sleep induced figures stood motionless like mannequins adorned mostly in loosely hanging morning gowns and slippers. But, like a dark sleeping giant, the township slowly awakened, and a tinge of yellow sunlight hues licked the Eastern horizon. A whiff of coldness enveloped the atmosphere, and Bongani felt his teeth chattering in his mouth.

Clouds of steam shot out of each figure in the queue’s mouths as they stood one metre away from each other, because those were the precautions put in place in order to prevent the spread of the virus. Stray dogs overturned random bins, much to the disgust of the queuing crowd, who cursed, threw stones, and chased them away.

“Even the liquor stores are closed,” Magaba, a renowned township drunkard, complained as his fellow mates shot understanding looks at him. His bloodshot eyes scanned around, and then his friend Mahofa interrupted him.

“But you look like you were drinking last night, how did you get the beer?” Mohafa asked.

“The local shebeen sold it to me, but eish, their prices are too exorbitant. Imagine a six pack of Castle is R180,” Magaba complained, and a chorus of surprised exclamations erupted from the engaged listeners. “Then I threatened to report them to the police, only then did we negotiate the price down, but it was still too much,” he continued.

The local shebeens had taken advantage of the scourge in order to increase their profits. “Now, if I can only get five teaspoons of beer, I’ll be alright,” Magaba yearned, and a raucous uproar of laughter exploded from the listeners.

The queue breathed forward, and three hours later, after what seemed like an eternity, Bongani’s turn to be served came. The excitement caused by the moving line seemed to have sobered Magaba a little. “It is nice having people like Magaba around,” Bongani thought to himself. “They make time move faster with their unrestricted, well-meant humour.”

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Tell us: What do you think about stores taking advantage of the pandemic and increasing the prices of the goods they serve?