As the airport taxi sped along Settlers Way, I watched the fingers of smoke lingering over the townships to my left. Rainbow-coloured washing flapped from makeshift lines slung between the tin and timber shacks, grazing the heads of toddlers playing in the dust. Behind us, towards Khayelitsha and Mitchells Plain, the haze thickened to a sickly yellow smog, whilst ahead the jagged skyline of Cape Town CBD gleamed in the morning sun.
As we passed by Gugulethu, I recalled a Cape Argus headline, absorbed whilst browsing from the relative safety of my UK home.
One murder every two and a half days for five consecutive years.
At the Waterfront, I embraced Nkosozama, and we found a quiet corner for lunch.
“Things changed much?” I enquired.
“Only thing changed round here, girl, is the colour of those riding the gravy train. And there sure aren’t enough seats for all of us.”
This week’s google shot at What Pegman Saw comes from Cape Town. Click on the link if you’ve got a 150 word story to share.