Can't Beat Us

You know, with the price of petrol nowadays, I am getting squeezed dry. Up, down, up, down, up, down... every day I'm vying to the hospital to check the ma-in-law, who needed a leg op. I dare not ask the vrou to skip a day. You know what that will be like! Anyway, medical aid and all, she's relaxing in Umhlanga hospital.
My family troops in, waving at connections, all heading for the same ward. As we entered, the facial xpressions on those (white) patients and their visitors was one of shock. "Is this an invasion?" they must have been thinking. They only had one, maybe two, and in some cases, no visitors, but for the charou patients - there was a dozen around each bed.

Before long (someone must have branted us), the guard appeared at the ward entrance: "Three visitors per patient," he said with authority, and we meekly trekked off to the lounge area. But there was no place to sit. Seems like this poisa (police in isiZulu) had already made his rounds in the other wards. Every seat had a charou warming its expensive looking leather.

"Where's Bommie," someone asked (not her real identity, to protect blowing her cover)."The three daughters stayed behind with ma in the ward, so where's Bommie?"

It was later revealed, when the time came for a visitor change, that Bommie turned around and started talking to the lonely patient in the next bed, as the poisa did his round (sheer brilliance!).

So, next time you have to go visit hospitals, take a tip from Bommie, and more of you can get in. You can't beat a charou!

Anyway, I am sure that these hospital lahnees (many of them are charou doctors) know that we have close-knit families. Why don't they have a special ward for us? I know they can't segregate by race, since it will be against the constitution and all, but maybe they can call it a "Big Family Ward".

Invariably all charous will end up in this ward. Maybe we can share the breyani and chops chutney and borrow some of the next-bed auntie's podina chutney. Just the other day, I ended up with a bowl of "sugarcane" herbs and rice for starters topped with "running fowl" curry.

Yah, us charous are like that. And if any connection didn't vie and visit the ol' lady in hospital, the talk will be: "Yah, they only know to come sing and cry when it's too late."