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After numerous months of battle and sacrifice, the strenuous journey was finally over. Lindiwe had arrived. In the town’s short history, few had suffered as much as Lindiwe to reach Ashton Lovelock. Few could have withstood the misfortune, hunger and rape. Couple of would have voluntarily paid so much from so little cost savings to make a home in the fifty years of age English New Town.
But desperation had driven Lindiwe to extreme procedures, as it had her fellow migrants who ‘d also endured the journey.
Lindiwe hadn’t viewed the stops on her voyage as a tourist might, although there were couple of European tourists who would venture into sub-Saharan Africa nowadays. What she saw of the countless miles in between Southern Africa and Northern Europe wasn’t through the round windows of an aeroplane soaring above the clouds and spotting ahead of a path of prohibitively costly fossil fuel. She saw no airports and a lot of definitely no passport controllers. Had she met even one in between Lesotho and London, she ‘d have been unceremoniously bundled away in the back of an immigration police van either to be discarded back in her native land or detained in among the many refugee camps that lined the coasts of North Africa. And from what Lindiwe had heard about these camps, her most likely fate there would be a lonely death while she waited for a decision from the many federal government agencies and private charities that were fruitlessly arguing with one another over the responsibility for feeding the countless desperate souls in their care.
When there were so many other more instant needs to resolve, no one would desire to be strained with such obligation.
Lindiwe didn’t expect Ashton Lovelock to treat illegal immigrants with any more generosity than Nairobi, Cairo, Harare, Sarajevo or Rotterdam would have done if her presence had been discovered by an official at any point on her trip. And when she had actually been required to state her existence, well…
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There had actually been several times when she ‘d had to utilize her body as currency to keep her and her companions safe. This had held true from the very start of her journey when she ‘d needed to sacrifice her virginity just to protect an exit visa from the United States of South Africa. There were the weeks and, in the shanty towns of Cairo, the months of working for very little pay and a good deal of verbal and physical abuse in professions that were even more routine than her post-graduate degree and expert training had ever prepared her for.
Here in the Kingdom of England, there might be a chance to make great the qualifications that were surplus to requirements in Maseru. Lindiwe had high hopes for Ashton Lovelock. Despite the collapsing decay of the hastily-built home she was remaining in, it was a reasonably young town with energy-efficient housing, extensive parking spaces, and a profusion of windmills and photovoltaic panels.
The reality was that Ashton Lovelock was a veritable paradise compared to her original home in Africa. The years of African scarcity hadn’t decreased overall population numbers by very much. The few available jobs paid extremely badly if they ever paid at all.
This inevitably left a vacuum that was now being filled by the most current wave of immigrants: of which Lindiwe was one. She was only one of numerous. Numerous came from Africa, at least as numerous from the Middle East and Asia, and, inevitably, refugees from the racially intolerant Republic of North America.
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Once been a loft extension, Aparo shared the exact same single bed mattress with Lindiwe in a space that had. 3 mattresses filled almost all the available floor space and each of them, including the mattress the two good friends shared, was home to one set of individuals during the day and another during the night. Apara and Lindiwe shared the mattress in the daylight hours. In the evening, a black couple from Mississippi slept on the exact same bed mattress and frequently left behind the trace of semen stains.
” There are no tasks at KFC-McDonalds,” said Aparo, referring to the franchise where she worked. “You’re simply going to need to try to find work elsewhere.”
Lindiwe’s heart sank. She couldn’t sleep on the bed mattress during the night because Mr and Mrs Martin would be there and there weren’t many locations open at night where she might hope to discover work. This indicated that her pursuit of employment would likewise imply going without sleep.
Bored and bleary-eyed, after a night spent in the area of the bus depot in the company of others with nothing else to do, Lindiwe resolutely wandered the streets of Ashton Lovelock in the hunt for a work chance. Not that there were many places to check out in the town centre. The owner of KFC-McDonalds, herself a South African immigrant, was supportive but pointed out that there was a long waiting list of equally desperate prospects.
Lindiwe soon understood that there were no tasks for her in Ashton Lovelock at all. The immigrant community had currently taken all the offered low-paid opportunities. And this was much to the obvious distaste of native English citizens, many of whom openly taunted Lindiwe with unsubtle tips of the dishonest practices of the deposed Government of National Unity.
The ever-widening radius of her job search eventually incorporated a service estate on the boundary of Swindon where Lindiwe, at last, gained a position but as absolutely nothing more requiring than a nightshift cleaning-woman. Although this position required an expensive two-hour commute by bus followed by a half-hour walk it was still better than needing to invest the whole night preventing the couple sleeping on her daytime mattress.
Her main tasks primarily included changing on and switching off the various cleansing machines and robotics. Nevertheless, it wasn’t long up until Lindiwe discovered that cleansing wasn’t everything she was expected to do, although it wasn’t written into her terms and conditions of employment (which, in any case, were totally verbal and agreed with a handshake).
During the first week that Lindiwe worked at the George Monbiot eco-business park, she became mindful of the presence of rooms that were out of bounds to her and the other night-time operatives. This was odd since the only individuals supposed to be working at the offices so late at night were security guards and technical operatives.
When Lindiwe bumped into any of the people who ‘d been remaining in a locked room, it quickly ended up being evident what was happening. It was constantly a female and a guy. The woman was inevitably much more youthful than the man and usually an immigrant. Lindiwe likewise observed the smell of sex that was lingering on their individual. Her nostrils had actually become well attuned to the smell after the weeks she ‘d spent in Sarajevo in which her survival depended on the provision of blow-jobs to total strangers.
” I like all the staff to chip in,” Lindiwe’s employer discussed as he handed her the meagre benefits for her first week’s work. He was a slim dark-skinned guy with a turban and a West Midlands accent. He was an exile who ‘d returned home after the change of government. “The advantages are additional pay. I can’t assure a fortune however pointers can make a distinction.”
” Why don’t individuals go to brothels and massage parlours?” asked Lindiwe, who understood that her continued employment was probably conditional on her accepting this additional work.
” The change of federal government brought about numerous great possibilities,” Mr Singh said with a sigh, “otherwise I wouldn’t be here, of course. This operation is similar to many others you’ll find all over this country.
And what they desired was something Lindiwe now needed to offer about two times a week in one of the a number of out-of-bound offices. They were provided with rather basic beds rather than chairs, computers and desks. The felt-covered partitions around each cubicle now served the function of concealing what was going on. There was a stable stream of customers who came to delight in the economical enjoyments that immigrant labour was now offering: their appetites whetted by the VR dreams they could enjoy in the comfort of their own homes.
For Lindiwe, this supplied no enjoyment at all till she squeezed into the office shower with the other nightshift cleaners to spray off the semen, urine and other physical fluids that the customers thought was an essential part of love-making but throughout which experience the vaginal penetration was probably the least distasteful part.
In the town’s short history, couple of had suffered as much as Lindiwe to reach Ashton Lovelock. And from what Lindiwe had actually heard about these camps, her most likely fate there would be a lonesome death while she waited for a choice from the lots of federal government firms and personal charities that were fruitlessly arguing with one another over the duty for feeding the millions of desperate souls in their care.
Lindiwe didn’t expect Ashton Lovelock to deal with illegal immigrants with any more compassion than Nairobi, Cairo, Harare, Sarajevo or Rotterdam would have done if her presence had actually been found by an official at any point on her trip. Bleary-eyed and bored, after a night invested in the vicinity of the bus depot in the business of others with nothing else to do, Lindiwe resolutely wandered the streets of Ashton Lovelock in the hunt for a work opportunity. And this was much to the obvious distaste of native English citizens, many of whom freely ridiculed Lindiwe with unsubtle tips of the unethical practices of the deposed Government of National Unity.
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