This time last week, I was sitting in bed feeling very sorry for myself.
It was cold, my room smelled mouldy, all my clothes were dirty, I was sure that my pillows were rotting (more on that later), the ceiling was black under all the dust that was clinging to it, and worst of all – I was no longer at home.
Quite abruptly, the holidays were over. I was back in Cape Town, and I would have to make things work.
When I first arrived back in Observatory, I walked into my room to find it teeming with dust, with this rank smell in the air. I thought it was the usual kind of dirtiness that one should expect from a room that has been closed up for five weeks. But then I looked closer, and saw that the wardrobe was filthy, all the clothes that were in there were covered in this green-brown dust, and the bed frame was also a mess.
My sheets were damp and dusty, and the pillows were dangerously close to disintegrating from the dampness and dust they had soaked up. It was a disaster.
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| The ceiling, the bed frame, and the side of the wardrobe. |
I had to wash every single thing I had left behind. I thought that I could make sure my bedding was clean and dry by the time I went to bed by putting it in the tumble dryer. After an hour in the machine, the sheets were still soaking wet. I was deeply upset.
After some sweeping, mopping and scrubbing, the room was about 60% safer to live in. I could breathe without worrying that I was making myself sick. But I still had to find a way to clear up all my clothes, and address that rotting pillow problem.
Eight days later, and due to a combination of despondency, bad weather, and a small washing machine, I still have not solved the pillow problem. To be honest, I have thought of just throwing them out and buying new ones. I mean, how can I ever rest easily on them again, after seeing what I’ve seen?
Last week thoughts like “when will I ever find a decent place?” and “I really can’t live like this for much longer – I’m too old for all this squatting!” went through my mind. And the truth is I am afraid that I might end up in similar sub-standard (my standards for myself, that is, not the general municipal/structural requirement standards) housing next year as well. As long as I am an unemployed student, my choices are limited. And that is tough to accept.
I thought I would be living in a decent one bedroom apartment in a good part of town by this time in my life. I have all these ideas of what I would like my place to look and feel like one day, but it seems like “one day” keeps slipping further and further away from me.
I need to know that all this suffering is leading somewhere…
Nkhensani Manabe 