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After many months of battle and sacrifice, the tough journey was lastly over. Lindiwe had shown up. In the town’s short history, few had suffered as much as Lindiwe to reach Ashton Lovelock. Few might have withstood the rape, hardship and hunger. Few would have voluntarily paid so much from so little savings to make a home in the fifty year old English New Town.

Desperation had driven Lindiwe to extreme measures, as it had her fellow migrants who ‘d likewise made it through the journey.

Lindiwe hadn’t viewed the stops on her trip as a traveler 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 overlooking the clouds and spotting ahead of a trail of prohibitively expensive fossil fuel. She saw no airports and the majority 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 a migration police van either to be disposed back in her country of origin or detained in one of the numerous refugee camps that lined the coasts of North Africa. And from what Lindiwe had become aware of these camps, her most likely fate there would be a lonesome death while she awaited a choice from the many government companies and personal charities that were fruitlessly arguing with one another over the obligation for feeding the countless desperate souls in their care.

Nobody would want to be strained with such responsibility when there were so many other more instant needs to resolve.

Lindiwe didn’t expect Ashton Lovelock to treat illegal immigrants with any more kindness than Nairobi, Cairo, Harare, Sarajevo or Rotterdam would have done if her existence had been found by an official at any point on her voyage. And when she had actually been required to declare her existence, well…

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There had actually been several times when she ‘d had to use her body as currency to keep her and her companions safe. This had actually been the case from the really start of her journey when she ‘d had to compromise her virginity merely to secure an exit visa from the United States of South Africa. There were the weeks and, in the slums of Cairo, the months of working for extremely little pay and a good deal of verbal and physical abuse in occupations that were much more routine than her post-graduate degree and professional training had ever prepared her for.

Here in the Kingdom of England, there might be a chance to make good the credentials that were surplus to requirements in Maseru. Lindiwe had high wish for Ashton Lovelock. In spite of the crumbling decay of the hastily-built home she was remaining in, it was a fairly young town with energy-efficient real estate, comprehensive parking spaces, and a profusion of windmills and photovoltaic panels.

The truth was that Ashton Lovelock was a veritable paradise compared to her initial house in Africa. The years of African starvation had not decreased total population numbers by really much. The couple of readily available jobs paid extremely badly if they ever paid at all.

This undoubtedly 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. Lots of came from Africa, at least as numerous from the Middle East and Asia, and, undoubtedly, refugees from the racially intolerant Republic of North America.

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When been a loft extension, Aparo shared the same single mattress with Lindiwe in a space that had. Three mattresses filled almost all the offered flooring area and each of them, including the bed mattress the two good friends shared, was home to one set of people during the day and another throughout the night. Apara and Lindiwe shared the mattress in the daylight hours. In the evening, a black couple from Mississippi slept on the same bed mattress and frequently left the trace of semen discolorations.

” There are no jobs at KFC-McDonalds,” said Aparo, describing the franchise where she worked. “You’re simply going to need to look for work in other places.”

Lindiwe’s heart sank. Since Mr and Mrs Martin would be there and there weren’t numerous places open in the evening where she could hope to find work, she couldn’t sleep on the bed mattress at night. This implied that her pursuit of employment would likewise indicate going without sleep.

Nevertheless, bleary-eyed and bored, after a night invested in the vicinity of the bus depot in the company of others with absolutely nothing else to do, Lindiwe resolutely roamed the streets of Ashton Lovelock in the hunt for a job opportunity. Not that there were numerous locations to visit in the town centre. The owner of KFC-McDonalds, herself a South African immigrant, was sympathetic however explained that there was a long waiting list of similarly desperate candidates. The other fast-food chain, Yo Sushi Pizza Hut, was rather less friendly and more or less informed her that just Muslim men might apply. Other than that, the only supermarket– a Tesco-Walmart– was freely hostile and told her that the company had a policy of reporting suspected immigrants. So there was little hope there either.

Lindiwe soon understood that there were no jobs 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 evident distaste of native English residents, a lot of whom honestly teased Lindiwe with unsubtle suggestions of the dishonest practices of the deposed Government of National Unity.

The ever-widening radius of her task search ultimately included an organization estate on the border of Swindon where Lindiwe, at last, gained a position but as nothing more requiring than a nightshift cleaning-woman. Although this position needed a pricey two-hour commute by bus followed by a half-hour walk it was still much better than having to invest the whole night avoiding the couple sleeping on her daytime mattress.

Her official tasks mainly included changing on and switching off the various cleansing machines and robotics. However, it wasn’t long till Lindiwe discovered that cleaning wasn’t whatever she was anticipated to do, although it wasn’t composed into her terms and conditions of work (which, in any case, were completely spoken and agreed with a handshake).

Throughout the first week that Lindiwe operated at the George Monbiot eco-business park, she became aware of the presence of spaces that were out of bounds to her and the other night-time operatives. There would usually be an e-paper sign posted on the door of these rooms that requested that they be cleaned later. In case there might be some misconception, these doors were locked from the inside. Because the only individuals supposed to be working at the workplaces so late at night were security guards and technical operatives, this was odd.

It quickly became obvious what was occurring when Lindiwe bumped into any of the people who ‘d been staying in a locked space. Lindiwe also discovered the smell of sex that was lingering on their person.

” I like all the personnel to chip in,” Lindiwe’s boss discussed as he handed her the meagre rewards for her very first week’s work. He was a slim dark-skinned man with a turban and a West Midlands accent. He was an exile who ‘d returned home after the change of government. “The advantages are extra pay. I can’t assure a fortune however tips can make a difference.”

” Why do not individuals go to brothels and massage parlours?” asked Lindiwe, who understood that her continued employment was probably conditional on her accepting this extra work.

” The change of federal government brought about lots of excellent opportunities,” Mr Singh said with a sigh, “otherwise I would not be here, of course. This operation is similar to many others you’ll find all over this nation.

And what they desired was something Lindiwe now needed to provide about twice a week in one of the a number of out-of-bound offices. They were furnished with rather standard beds rather than chairs, desks and computer systems. The felt-covered partitions around each cubicle now served the function of concealing what was going on. There was a steady stream of clients who came to take pleasure in the inexpensive satisfaction that immigrant labour was now providing: their cravings whetted by the VR dreams they could enjoy in the convenience of their own houses.

For Lindiwe, this offered no satisfaction at all up until she squeezed into the workplace shower with the other nightshift cleaners to spray off the semen, urine and other bodily fluids that the clients thought was a necessary part of love-making but during which ordeal the vaginal penetration was most likely the least distasteful part.

In the town’s short history, few had actually suffered as much as Lindiwe to reach Ashton Lovelock. 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 personal charities that were fruitlessly arguing with one another over the responsibility for feeding the millions of desperate souls in their care.

Lindiwe didn’t anticipate Ashton Lovelock to treat prohibited immigrants with any more compassion than Nairobi, Cairo, Harare, Sarajevo or Rotterdam would have done if her presence had been discovered by an official at any point on her voyage. Bored and bleary-eyed, 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 chance. And this was much to the apparent distaste of native English citizens, many of whom honestly ridiculed Lindiwe with unsubtle tips of the unethical practices of the deposed Government of National Unity.

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7373 Hallington, EN NE19 2

Northumberland, England (EN)

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