The Other Side

Life On The Other Side

Zandile's P.O.V 

After dressing in my uniform and packing my bag, I headed off to school. My hair had been cut close to my head, in a sort of mini-Afro. My uniform was a standard long dark olive green skirt which reached my ankles, white button-up blouse, matching green blazer and tie to go with it. My shoes were a dark-chocolate brown and made of leather. I carried my heavy black rucksack all the 3 kilometre walk to school. The road was full of potholes and there were burst pipes which were meant to be connecting sewer pipes everywhere.The air was full of the stench of urine and stool. The cows weren't the only animals that were doing their business around here. It was not an unpleasant walk. Besides the stench, the dusty path and road, there were the other children that walked with me. There were kids of all ages, from the little Grade 1's to the eldest Upper Six's, we all walked to school together. The saddest were always the Uppers at this time of year, for they knew that they wouldn't be walking this path any longer. The end of school did not mean the end of work, it was just the beginning. For those who did not receive scholarships, their parents could not afford to send them to any universities in town. If you did not receive a scholarship, you would probably live out the rest of your days as a cattle farmer, nursery teacher or local village doctor. 

Most of these doctors forsook what they had learnt at school and decided to listen to "what their voices were telling them". Most people, even if they did receive a scholarship to be a medical student, end up returning to the village, sooner or later. People would realise how hard they would have to work, and when they would come for holiday, the witchdoctors would tell them how easy they had it here. These people were so gullible, they didn't even realise that hard work always paid off. They could have been driving a Lamborghini by now, but no they were just witchdoctors in a poor man's village. 

I was a medical student at St. Catherine's School, in Shangani. Shangani was an hour away from the City Of Kings, Bulawayo (Blue-way-ho). Even though, we were so close, I had never been to the City Of Kings. I had always  wanted to go, but as I was always told, "Don't dream of big things because you don't want to let yourself down".