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After many months of battle and sacrifice, the difficult journey was finally over. Lindiwe had gotten here. In the town’s brief history, few had suffered as much as Lindiwe to reach Ashton Lovelock. Few might have withstood the rape, hunger and hardship. Couple of would have willingly paid so much from so little savings to make a home in the fifty year old English New Town.
However desperation had driven Lindiwe to extreme steps, as it had her fellow migrants who ‘d also endured the journey.
Lindiwe had not seen the stops on her voyage as a traveler might, although there were couple of European travelers who would venture into sub-Saharan Africa these days. And from what Lindiwe had heard about these camps, her most likely fate there would be a lonesome death while she waited for a decision from the lots of government agencies and private charities that were fruitlessly arguing with one another over the responsibility for feeding the millions of desperate souls in their care.
Nobody would wish to be burdened with such obligation when there were a lot of other more instant requirements to deal with.
Lindiwe didn’t expect Ashton Lovelock to deal with illegal immigrants with any more kindness 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 been required to declare her presence, well…
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There had actually been several times when she ‘d needed to utilize her body as currency to keep her and her buddies safe. This had actually been the case from the extremely start of her journey when she ‘d had to compromise her virginity merely to protect 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 really little pay and a lot of physical and spoken abuse in professions that were far more menial than her post-graduate degree and expert training had ever prepared her for.
Here in the Kingdom of England, there might be an opportunity to make great the credentials that were surplus to requirements in Maseru. Lindiwe had high hopes for Ashton Lovelock. Despite the collapsing decay of the hastily-built house she was remaining in, it was a reasonably young town with energy-efficient housing, substantial parking spaces, and a profusion of windmills and solar panels.
The fact was that Ashton Lovelock was a genuine paradise compared to her original home in Africa. The years of African starvation had not reduced overall population numbers by very much. Maseru still housed a population far greater than its infrastructure might support. The police were useless against the criminal gangs that made it harmful to venture out whether at day or night. The few available tasks paid really poorly if they ever paid at all. Homes and workplaces were collapsing from neglect. Lines of starving people wound through the high streets for the few products the criminal gangs allowed to get here in the shops. Just a fortunate couple of were ever rewarded for their persistence.
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 numerous. Lots of 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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Aparo shared the same single mattress with Lindiwe in a room that had once been a loft extension. Apara and Lindiwe shared the bed mattress in the daylight hours.
” There are no tasks at KFC-McDonalds,” said Aparo, referring to the franchise where she worked. “You’re simply going to have to try to find work in other places.”
Lindiwe’s heart sank. Because Mr and Mrs Martin would be there and there weren’t many locations open in the evening where she could hope to discover work, she couldn’t sleep on the mattress at night. This suggested that her pursuit of employment would likewise mean going without sleep.
Bleary-eyed and bored, 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 an employment chance. Not that there were numerous locations to check out in the town centre. The proprietor of KFC-McDonalds, herself a South African immigrant, was sympathetic however pointed out that there was a long waiting list of similarly desperate prospects.
Lindiwe soon realised that there were no jobs for her in Ashton Lovelock at all. The immigrant community had already taken all the offered low-paid chances. And this was much to the evident distaste of native English residents, a lot of whom freely ridiculed Lindiwe with unsubtle reminders of the unethical practices of the deposed Government of National Unity.
The ever-widening radius of her task search eventually encompassed a company estate on the perimeter of Swindon where Lindiwe, at last, gained a position but as absolutely nothing more requiring than a nightshift cleaning-woman. This position required a costly 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 official jobs mainly involved changing on and turning off the numerous cleansing makers and robots. It wasn’t long until Lindiwe found that cleaning wasn’t everything she was anticipated to do, although it wasn’t composed into her terms and conditions of employment (which, in any case, were totally spoken and agreed with a handshake).
During the very first week that Lindiwe worked at the George Monbiot eco-business park, she became aware of the presence of rooms that were out of bounds to her and the other night-time operatives. This was odd because the only people supposed to be working at the offices so late at night were security guards and technical operatives.
When Lindiwe bumped into any of the individuals who had actually been staying in a locked space, it soon became apparent what was occurring. It was constantly a man and a female. The female was usually much younger than the man and generally an immigrant. Lindiwe likewise noticed the smell of sex that was lingering on their individual. Her nostrils had become well attuned to the smell after the weeks she ‘d invested in Sarajevo in which her survival depended on the provision of blow-jobs to total complete strangers.
” I like all the personnel to chip in,” Lindiwe’s employer described 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 had actually returned home after the modification of government. “The advantages are extra pay. I can’t guarantee a fortune however pointers can make a difference.”
” Why don’t people go to brothels and massage parlours?” asked Lindiwe, who understood that her ongoing work was probably conditional on her accepting this additional work.
” The modification of federal government brought about lots of excellent chances,” Mr Singh said with a sigh, “otherwise I wouldn’t be here, of course. This operation is comparable to lots of others you’ll discover all over this country.
And what they wanted was something Lindiwe now had to provide about two times a week in one of the numerous out-of-bound workplaces. There was a steady stream of customers who came to delight in the affordable enjoyments that immigrant labour was now supplying: their appetites whetted by the VR dreams they might enjoy in the convenience of their own houses.
For Lindiwe, this offered no pleasure at all until she squeezed into the workplace shower with the other nightshift cleaners to spray off the semen, urine and other physical fluids that the clients believed was a necessary part of love-making however during which ordeal the vaginal penetration was most likely the least horrible 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 choice from the numerous government agencies and personal charities that were fruitlessly arguing with one another over the obligation for feeding the millions of desperate souls in their care.
Lindiwe didn’t anticipate Ashton Lovelock to treat illegal immigrants with any more kindness than Nairobi, Cairo, Harare, Sarajevo or Rotterdam would have done if her existence had actually been found by an authorities at any point on her trip. Bleary-eyed and bored, after a night spent in the vicinity of the bus depot in the company of others with absolutely 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 residents, many of whom openly teased Lindiwe with unsubtle pointers of the unethical practices of the deposed Government of National Unity.
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