Cape Town Stories 21

One local resident of Woodstock’s streets came out of a shop with some take-away. We stood at the traffic light together, I waiting for green, him waiting for space to cut between rushing cars. He told me he hadn’t initially recognised me with my new „hair cut“. I asked him what he had bought to eat to which he replied that it was „only chips“ because he does not currently have a job. He then continued to inform me that he was going to rob a bank. I laughed,  suprised that he was willing to share with me such classified information.  He insisted that he was not joking. „I am not afraid of robbing a bank because how can I be afraid of prison when I am already living like a prisoner?“ he pointed at his street corner and the others who reside there with him „I can’t live like this“, but he sat down to share the chips amongst them. I wished them a good day and they waved goodbye as I walked home.

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