Civil Service blues
It’s 6:30 on a Monday morning and I’m in a long queue outside the Department of Home Affairs.
I need a temporary passport, like yesterday. The dog ate my existing one just as I was offered a chance-in-a-lifetime job opportunity in a place outside our borders.
It’s winter, still dark. And very cold. A damp, icy wind is cheekily lifting our coat hems, pushing its chilly snout under our clothes. The stoep is bare – no chairs or benches to
