Stories of Sorrow
Seeing a Grown Man Cry.
One day, myself, Darryl & Burges were standing on the corner where Mr Rhoda stays. And that was probably about 1 or 2 o' clock in the afternoon. Mr Rhoda had just left to fetch his kids at school. I see this car, like a brown Toyota, come cruising down the road. There was a white driver and two coloured guys in the back. It stopped next to us. Mr Rhoda was number 19, and we were 21 in Edward Lane. And the driver gets out and you could see was some sort of official. And he asked me, 'Where's number 21?' which was where we lived, in the corner there. And he looked at his clipboard and said "No no no no, I'm looking for number 19." and I said "Here's number 19". And he said "Is die Rhoda?" ('Is this Rhoda?'). I said "Ja" ('Yes'). He said "Die ou moet nou laaste maand uitgewees al." ('He was supposed to be out last month already'). And the guys at the back got out of the car & I noticed that they were prisoners in prison uniforms. The official said "Maak die deur oop daar." ('Open the door there'), and that time we didn't have burglar bars or gates or anything like that. It was locked, so they climbed in the window & opened the door from the inside. They started just packing everything out onto his stoep. I'll never forget, I saw the one prisoner opening Mr Rhoda's wardrobe and throwing all his clothes onto the blankets on his bed and closing it up and carrying it out onto the stoep. Mr Rhoda came home and from a distance he could see what was happening there. And he suddenly stopped, slowed down his van - he had a sort of old taxi van - and he slowed it down and he looked, and he sort of edged forward with the van - like he was thinking, 'What the hell is happening?'. He couldn't stop these people. And then this guy, the official, had the audacity to still buy an antique piece of furniture for a song from Mr Rhoda, because he had no place to store it. That was when I saw a grown man cry. And that scarred me for life. At the time you look up to your parents and elders and you're not supposed to see them cry. He didn't have another place to go - he stayed with Mr Baker for a while, I think, then they moved to Mitchell's Plain.
Carl Thorne, Edward St.
One day, myself, Darryl & Burges were standing on the corner where Mr Rhoda stays. And that was probably about 1 or 2 o' clock in the afternoon. Mr Rhoda had just left to fetch his kids at school. I see this car, like a brown Toyota, come cruising down the road. There was a white driver and two coloured guys in the back. It stopped next to us. Mr Rhoda was number 19, and we were 21 in Edward Lane. And the driver gets out and you could see was some sort of official. And he asked me, 'Where's number 21?' which was where we lived, in the corner there. And he looked at his clipboard and said "No no no no, I'm looking for number 19." and I said "Here's number 19". And he said "Is die Rhoda?" ('Is this Rhoda?'). I said "Ja" ('Yes'). He said "Die ou moet nou laaste maand uitgewees al." ('He was supposed to be out last month already'). And the guys at the back got out of the car & I noticed that they were prisoners in prison uniforms. The official said "Maak die deur oop daar." ('Open the door there'), and that time we didn't have burglar bars or gates or anything like that. It was locked, so they climbed in the window & opened the door from the inside. They started just packing everything out onto his stoep. I'll never forget, I saw the one prisoner opening Mr Rhoda's wardrobe and throwing all his clothes onto the blankets on his bed and closing it up and carrying it out onto the stoep. Mr Rhoda came home and from a distance he could see what was happening there. And he suddenly stopped, slowed down his van - he had a sort of old taxi van - and he slowed it down and he looked, and he sort of edged forward with the van - like he was thinking, 'What the hell is happening?'. He couldn't stop these people. And then this guy, the official, had the audacity to still buy an antique piece of furniture for a song from Mr Rhoda, because he had no place to store it. That was when I saw a grown man cry. And that scarred me for life. At the time you look up to your parents and elders and you're not supposed to see them cry. He didn't have another place to go - he stayed with Mr Baker for a while, I think, then they moved to Mitchell's Plain.
Carl Thorne, Edward St.
"Ons vil nie julle hot'nots heir in Claremont hê nie".
I asked (my wife) what was wrong, and she said, 'Ike, there were two white chaps here, they came here with a paper, this is our new address - we have to move to Bonteheuwel.' Well, they didn't know that we had bought a property in Lansdowne & we were busy building. So I asked her, 'Why are you crying? We've bought a house.' She said, 'Ike, you know what one of them said? 'Ons vil nie julle hot'nots hier in Claremont he nie' '. It's strange - all the good memories, they just wipe it out with one sentence.
Isaac Thomas, Heather St.
I asked (my wife) what was wrong, and she said, 'Ike, there were two white chaps here, they came here with a paper, this is our new address - we have to move to Bonteheuwel.' Well, they didn't know that we had bought a property in Lansdowne & we were busy building. So I asked her, 'Why are you crying? We've bought a house.' She said, 'Ike, you know what one of them said? 'Ons vil nie julle hot'nots hier in Claremont he nie' '. It's strange - all the good memories, they just wipe it out with one sentence.
Isaac Thomas, Heather St.
A shop, a community, lost.
My father, when he lost his shop, he was really cut up. He was old, most of his friends had passed on, and you could see he was really missing that lifestyle. At his shop everybody was always there, working, sitting around - it was a real community life. I don't think you would see it today, anywhere. He was still there a few years after we were moved. They built The Link there afterward and he never opened a new shop.
Malik Hercules, Quiet St.
My father, when he lost his shop, he was really cut up. He was old, most of his friends had passed on, and you could see he was really missing that lifestyle. At his shop everybody was always there, working, sitting around - it was a real community life. I don't think you would see it today, anywhere. He was still there a few years after we were moved. They built The Link there afterward and he never opened a new shop.
Malik Hercules, Quiet St.
