CAITLYN NAICKER
GRADE THREE
UMHLALI PREPARATORY SCHOOL
TEL: 0848539952/ 0329442882
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Writing Competition
MY STORY
Limping towards my ancient doorstep and looking at my now decayed house which used to be a stunning, sea-blue mansion with mesmerizing views, I have a vivid memory of my fifty servants worshipping my footsteps and presence. Now, people walk past me like I have no licence to live. The servant I now have seems attached to myaching hip.
Dear Timothy who smokes his tobacco pipe bringing me my shredded cabbage topped off with bread and mushroom and presents it to me as it is gourmet cuisine served in an exclusive restaurant. My many wrinkles have covered my face overnight like a plague and my neck has creases that no amount of pampering could possibly erase. My hair is brittle and the sad part of becoming old is not this part but when there is blindness of others who fail to see me or respect my age. I am the forgotten granny in the corner. I visualized the flittering smoke as my grandchildren, energetic Jane, talkative Michael and cheerful Barbara running happily on my farm and helping me feed the hens. What a happy and proud time it was for me.
Now a fancy shopping mall stands in my place with glass and many shops that my mum might have appreciated. I took one more look at the mall and salty tears cascaded down my face and from my bloodshot eyes dribbling over my cracked pink lips. So this is where my store of happy memories ended.
At fifty, I retired from working long hours at the factory. This place stole my energy and wrapped its fingers around my soul, squeezing my spirit. My gnarled hands that counted coins at the end of the month to see whether I could buy my favourite koeksusterdusted with coconut. Most months I couldn’t manage.
At forty, I worked at a toothpaste factory and standing on my feet with excellent support stockings and pumps. I had to screw the caps on toothpaste and I am so tired. I earned very little and I tried to save. My children surrounded me with love and that was most important to me.
One day, the beady eyed manager caught me gently sliding the toothpaste caps into my pockets. I was fired on the spot. Before I knew it, I couldn’t pay the rent and my children were left at mum’s house. I was sitting on the pavement. If only I had known that my spirit would break further. People I had known turned their faces away or cast faces of pity and shadows of pain danced on my heart.
My husband did not speak. My bleak future stretched out in front of me. I screamed and sighed but in vain. I wanted the storms but the sun shone brightly and people laughed and filled their baskets that heaved like satisfied pythons. Smart clothes and laughing children and I suppose they didn’t have to think twice about buying a coconut dusted koeksuster.
When I was twenty, I was stunning (according to tabloids) and my face was blemish free. Life was promising.
I remember when I was ten years old and leaning out of my mum’s tired Tazz on our return from school and my mum dragging ‘reluctant me’ on her shopping trip and I was reciting horrid time tables and I spotted the competition. My teacher said that ‘you have a natural flair for writing’. I could be that ‘exceptional, budding author’. I am that avid reader and I have a wealth of ideas that gush out. This could be my opportunity!
THE END