Woman and Black

Chapter 1: Work and periods

Enter Elena, a beautiful black woman with a thick build and an even thicker crown of black braids cascading down to her waist in the busy Joburg CBD. She is rushing to go to work, thankfully still with time on her side. It's still 6 a.m. right around sunrise. The atmosphere is filled with busy, cars, busy trucks, and busy taxis, everyone is rushing to get somewhere.

You know Joburg, the city that never sleeps. At 5 a.m. the street already smells of petrol, cigarettes, and dried-up urine, with more urine piling up on top because someone's husband didn't sleep at home and is still drunk at 5 a.m. and he needed to take a piss somewhere. She is at the taxi rank. You have street vendors yelling everywhere, and the mamas seated by the corners selling vetkoeks and tea. The driver simply won't start the taxi until the taxi is full. Elena is in a rush it's around 6:20 a.m. She doesn't want to be late for work, her superior has been quite cranky lately and he's been looking for someone to take it out on at work. 'It's been three weeks already, she thinks to herself as she does her regular makeup check on her pocket mirror that she always keeps on the side of her red bag.

ELENA:
"Eish driver, Kanti s'hamba nin' manje? Thin' abanye k'mele siy'emsebenzini maan" (Eish driver, when are we leaving really? Some of us have to go to work). You say to the driver as you put away your pocket mirror on the side of your red bag checking the time and seeing that it's 6:25 a.m. The taxi is only half full and you don't see the chances of more people coming. Frustration. It's the first day of your period after a long-long night of work and you forgot to restock your supply of painkillers. You're running on coffee, a can of Dragon energy drink, and hope that your period pains won't strike you with paralysis until your lunch break which is 6 hours from now. "Driver hle I'll pay extra hle!" (Driver I'll pay extra please!) You say as the morning gets louder and louder with the sound of zooming vehicles, and chattering people rushing to work.

The driver looks snarkily at you through his driver's mirror, with his sig hanging on the side of his black-stained lips. He stares at you with those marble brown-white eyes. You stare back not batting an eyelash [Because well you know Joburg drivers, show no fear encountering them because bazok'gwajisa (they will make your life miserable by bullying you, they are like stubborn bulls sometimes)]

He nods his head in agreement, and he shuts the driver's door getting ready to drive off. You silently let out a breath, because the encounter was nerve-wracking, but you gotta do what you gotta do. You fix your seating position to be prim and proper for a working-class woman. You can't have it all, but you can have good posture. Sting! "Please", "Please", you beg in your head. "Uterus bear with me, let's get to work first". It's 6:30 a.m., and you check yourself again on your pocket mirror. The taxi passes by the robots, you open up the passenger taxi window to let cold air in. It's better than the suffocating smell of the taxi seats, the air smells like piss and rubbish, but it's more bearable because well you have motion sickness. Some boy is begging for R2 on one side of the robots, another is selling cigarettes and snacks on the other side.

After two corners you finally get to the ASBA building. The clean side of Joburg with less rubbish and sewage spills on the street. "Short right", you signal to the taxi driver to stop by the nearest corner to the building.

You try and open the sliding taxi door, guess what? It doesn't open. It's one of those that need to be yanked with a lot of effort at least three times to get open. "Sting!" The twists begin you almost bend, but you suck it up. This is Joburg, we show no weakness here baby girl, let's go. You get out of the taxi in your closed-toe stilettos. Its either you wear pumps, takkies, or closed-toe heels here. You don't want any of the sewage touching your feet. The smell will stick with you till you get home and bathe love. And you're a pro, so definitely stilettos.

You pounce elegantly but quickly to get to your desk as soon as you can. Everyone's busy, everyone's walking somewhere. You can hear the pattering and the pittering of all kinds of shoes. The bag held close to your waist, zipper inside your hand. "We do not want to get robbed, not in the morning not in this mood," you say to yourself. The pins in your uterus keep growing. Glass fills your eyes, fighting hard to hold back the tears from the stings, feels like someone is turning your uterus inside out, feels like someone is shocking you with high volts of electricity from the inside. You suck it up, you keep walking. We finally get to the ASBA building, you swipe in your company employment card, the glass doors are automatic, and they open for you. You greet the receptionist. He looks at you nonchalantly and nods, "Guess I'm not the only one on my period", you laugh silently to yourself.

You get to your booth and sit at your desk. You let out a large breath of air, set down your red bag, and check your watch. You have 10 minutes to spare and let out a silent prayer, "Lord if you would help me get through this day. Just give me the strength to get through this day".

As you do your morning preparations for the day, checking e-mails and company announcements, your superior walks by...