A Really Awful State of (Home) Affairs

Late afternoon – nearly at the door (far left).

On Friday went to Home Affairs
Our passports to renew,
Though crack of dawn, each bench (no chairs)
Was filled with part of queue.

We stood or sat on concrete there
Till op’ning, while we cursed;
Then, later, came one to declare
The elderly go first.

So wife and I then moved inside,
Directed to a seat
From which IDs were from us pried:
Then came new seat repeat.

Another seat for photo take
Much time along the way,
And then a further move to make
In yet more seats to stay

From thence to counter where at last
The fingerprints and all
Were sorted out (although not fast);
And we could leave the hall.

Of course we couldn’t really go;
The kids and daughter, still,
Were stuck in hardly-moving flow,
With smell to make one ill!

A view from the clubhouse of what was Isipingo Golf Course, now Amanzimttoti Country Club.

So we took turns to hold the fort;
First at golf-club nearby
We and granddaughters breakfast sought –
And peacock had a try!

The sea is visible in the background of our breakfast guest.

The girls were able to stroke this beauty – he was unperturbed.

Then back to vigil we returned;
The queue’d not moved at all;
Now for a break our daughter yearned,
So took kids to a mall.

From then we spent the afternoon
In slowly thinning throng
Near four, we thought It might be soon
Their turn would come along.

And sure enough – oh joy and bliss! –
They were let in the door;
Now nothing much could go amiss?
But shock there was in store.

Just as their turn for photos came:
‘The camera, she broke!
Come back next week: you give your name.’
No, this was not a joke.

On Tuesday, daughter checked at one,
And everything was fine;
Got kids from school, and changing done,
To get them there in time.

We met their mother and then raced
To Home Affairs for three,
But then, oh water shock we faced!
‘No water; home all be.’

So we will have to try once more,
And this time hope and pray
That camera works, as before,
And water’s there to stay.

© June 2016 Colonialist (WordPress)