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After numerous months of battle and sacrifice, the arduous journey was finally over. Lindiwe had gotten here. In the town’s short history, few had suffered as much as Lindiwe to reach Ashton Lovelock. Few could have endured the misfortune, rape and hunger. Few would have voluntarily paid a lot from so little savings to make a home in the fifty year old English New Town.
But desperation had actually driven Lindiwe to extreme measures, as it had her fellow migrants who ‘d likewise made it through the journey.
Lindiwe hadn’t seen the stops on her voyage as a traveler might, although there were few European tourists who would venture into sub-Saharan Africa these days. What she saw of the countless miles between Southern Africa and Northern Europe wasn’t through the round windows of an aeroplane overlooking the clouds and spotting ahead of a path of prohibitively pricey fossil fuel. She saw no airports and most 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 apprehended in among the many refugee camps that lined the shores of North Africa. And from what Lindiwe had found out about these camps, her probably fate there would be a lonely death while she waited for a choice from the many federal government agencies and personal charities that were fruitlessly arguing with one another over the obligation for feeding the countless desperate souls in their care.
No one would want to be strained with such duty when there were many other more instant needs to deal with.
Lindiwe didn’t expect Ashton Lovelock to deal with unlawful immigrants with any more generosity than Nairobi, Cairo, Harare, Sarajevo or Rotterdam would have done if her existence had been discovered by an authorities at any point on her trip. There were the weeks and, in the run-down neighborhoods of Cairo, the months of working for very little pay and a great offer of spoken and physical abuse in occupations that were far more routine than her post-graduate degree and professional training had ever prepared her for.
Here in the Kingdom of England, there might be an opportunity to make good the qualifications that were surplus to requirements in Maseru. Lindiwe had high hopes for Ashton Lovelock. In spite of the collapsing decay of the hastily-built house she was remaining in, it was a relatively young town with energy-efficient real estate, comprehensive parking spaces, and a profusion of windmills and solar panels.
The reality was that Ashton Lovelock was a veritable paradise compared to her initial home in Africa. The years of African starvation had not decreased general population numbers by very much. Maseru still housed a population far greater than its facilities might support. The authorities were ineffectual versus the criminal gangs that made it hazardous to venture out whether at day or night. If they ever paid at all, the few readily available jobs paid very poorly. Homes and offices were collapsing from disregard. Lines of starving individuals wound through the high streets for the few items the criminal gangs permitted to arrive in the shops. Just a fortunate couple of were ever rewarded for their perseverance.
This inevitably left a vacuum that was now being filled by the latest wave of immigrants: of which Lindiwe was one. She was just one of many. Numerous came from Africa, at least as many from the Middle East and Asia, and, undoubtedly, refugees from the racially intolerant Republic of North America.
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Once been a loft extension, Aparo shared the same single mattress with Lindiwe in a room that had. Three mattresses filled almost all the offered floor space and each of them, including the mattress the two good friends shared, was home to one set of people during the day and another during the night. Apara and Lindiwe shared the mattress in the daylight hours. At night, a black couple from Mississippi slept on the same bed mattress and often left the trace of semen spots.
” There are no tasks at KFC-McDonalds,” said Aparo, describing the franchise where she worked. “You’re just going to have to try to find work in other places.”
Lindiwe’s heart sank. Due to the fact that Mr and Mrs Martin would be there and there weren’t many places open in the evening where she might hope to find work, she couldn’t sleep on the mattress at night. This implied that her pursuit of work would also imply going without sleep.
Bored and bleary-eyed, after a night invested in the area 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 an employment chance. Not that there were many locations to visit 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 similarly desperate candidates.
Lindiwe soon understood that there were no tasks for her in Ashton Lovelock at all. The immigrant community had currently taken all the readily available low-paid opportunities. And this was much to the evident distaste of native English citizens, much of whom freely taunted Lindiwe with unsubtle reminders of the dishonest practices of the deposed Government of National Unity.
The ever-widening radius of her task search eventually encompassed a service estate on the perimeter of Swindon where Lindiwe, at last, gained a position however as absolutely nothing more demanding than a nightshift cleaning-woman. This position required a pricey two-hour commute by bus followed by a half-hour walk it was still much better than having to spend the whole night avoiding the couple sleeping on her daytime mattress.
Her main tasks mostly included switching on and switching off the various cleansing machines and robotics. It wasn’t long up until Lindiwe discovered that cleaning wasn’t everything she was anticipated to do, although it wasn’t written into her terms and conditions of work (which, in any case, were entirely spoken and concurred with a handshake).
Throughout the very first week that Lindiwe worked 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 spaces that requested that they be cleaned later. In case there might be some misconception, these doors were locked from the inside. This was odd due to the fact that the only individuals supposed to be working at the workplaces so late at night were security guards and technical operatives.
It soon became obvious what was occurring when Lindiwe ran into any of the people who ‘d been remaining in a locked room. It was always a guy and a lady. The woman was inevitably much younger than the man and generally an immigrant. Lindiwe also noticed the smell of sex that was lingering on their person. Her nostrils had actually ended up being well attuned to the odour after the weeks she ‘d invested in Sarajevo in which her survival counted on the arrangement of blow-jobs to total complete strangers.
” I like all the staff to chip in,” Lindiwe’s manager discussed as he handed her the meagre benefits for her very first week’s work. He was an exile who had actually returned home after the change of federal government.
” Why do not people go to brothels and massage parlours?” asked Lindiwe, who understood that her ongoing work was probably conditional on her accepting this extra work.
” The change of government brought about numerous great chances,” Mr Singh stated with a sigh, “otherwise I would not be here, of course. This operation is comparable to numerous others you’ll find all over this country.
And what they desired was something Lindiwe now had to supply about two times a week in one of the numerous out-of-bound offices. There was a steady stream of clients who came to take pleasure in the low-cost enjoyments that immigrant labour was now supplying: their hungers whetted by the VR fantasies they might enjoy in the comfort of their own houses.
For Lindiwe, this provided no pleasure at all till she squeezed into the workplace shower with the other nightshift cleaners to spray off the semen, urine and other bodily fluids that the customers believed was an essential part of love-making but during which experience the vaginal penetration was most likely the least distasteful part.
In the town’s short history, few 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 numerous federal government agencies and private charities that were fruitlessly arguing with one another over the duty 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 existence had been discovered by an official at any point on her voyage. Bored and bleary-eyed, after a night spent in the area 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 an employment chance. And this was much to the apparent distaste of native English residents, many of whom openly taunted Lindiwe with unsubtle tips of the dishonest practices of the deposed Government of National Unity.
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