Ntombi

I remember Ntombi.

She was a tall thin black woman. Ntombi must of been in her early 40's she wasn't the most friendly person - or maybe she was just shy...
Every day, she came neatly dressed to work. She was quite reserved; and never really said much she always looked down and did her job.

I used to work for my dad in a butchery. I was a young, frustrated and passionate individual. I had just left the arts school, and had these massive dreams of becoming a film star or director. As I type this, I realize how far my dreams have drifted from me.

Every morning, I would walk through the staff entrance, cameras watching me from every angle. I used to feel the anger boil from within me - I hate this place -

My ambition failed me, I used to hide in my fathers office and cry. Hoping for better days... but what about Ntombi? What about the other ladies who worked under the exact same conditions?

The other ladies were Aunty Louisa she was cheeky, short and apparently a triplet she was extremely comical, and saying good bye everyday was always a big facade (it was our own little thing), Lindi was short, I think she had a problem with her ankles, she was quite overweight but extremely intelligent. She always knew what was happening on the wrestling or Days of our lives, I think out of every person there, she actually understood my sense of humor he most... And then there was Pretty Lindi, she seemed to be quite a traditional black woman; her husband had passed away not too long ago.

They loved me in the butchery; I wasn’t sure if it was because I was the bosses daughter, or if they actually liked me.
Most days I would feel bitter and misunderstood, bored and stressed. I felt like I was trapped in a place that I could never escape.

I was so self absorbed with my own agony, I never really took much notice of the staff around me. Until one day, I thought about it. How many pieces of meat would these women pack a day? How many would that add up in a week, a month... and finally on average in their lifetime?
Surely these people had big dreams too? Maybe they wanted to travel? Or meet someone important? Maybe they wanted to attend their future grandchild’s wedding? Or actually resign their job without a care in the world?

The world can be quite a lonely place if you wallow in your own self pity...

I changed my opinion. I decided to take every day at the butchery as an opportunity to admire these women I worked with.
They earned tiny salaries, yet always hosted something at home, they had health problems, but always found the energy to get up in the morning and face they day - with a smile (and sometimes dance too) They had a joy about them I admired.
Most days, I miss the staff there very much. They meant a lot to me, even two years later, I still think of them.

The smallest people teach us the biggest things...

Ntombi has gone to heaven now. For over 20 years she worked at my father’s butchery... leaving behind her baby girl.  I don’t know what happened to her baby, but it always crosses my mind.
I wonder what Ntombi's dreams where? I wonder what her fears where?
I wonder if she ever knew that she wouldn’t make her daughter’s wedding day.

As I end my second blog, I'd like to ask a question: Do we all have a purpose in this life as we have been promised growing up? Do we as the majority actually make a difference to the praised minority? Is it us - the majority - that are the purpose for the minority?
Suppose these thoughts are for another day another blog...