1. Cynthia: 19 year old black South African with a head full of dreams and a burning desire to make something of herself. Works as a pizza waitress in Pretoria, wants to get a work permit to work in London so she can earn enough money to go to college. Agencies in South Africa want to charge her a fortune for a ticket and a 'job', so she looks for people who live 'over there' who might be able to help her.
Sounds good, no? The thing is Cynthia is a real person. She works at an Italian restaurant in Hatfield, Pretoria, attached to the hotel where I stayed before and after Zambia. She is the single most charming waiter/waitress I have ever encountered. She made me feel that eating alone was normal, she chatted to me as she passed by, she complimented me on my English good manners (understandable in a country where many people are shockingly rude to waiters/waitresses), and remembered my eating (calamari) and drinking (dry red wine) preferences after a whole month - and I hadn't even told her I was coming back.
It was only on the second visit that she told me she wanted to come to the UK. I asked her why. I said the weather was miserable, the tips were miserly and she might be better off in the States. She said 'yes, but everybody wants to earn some pounds'. I said 'Well, I don't know why', but knew as I said it that this was said with the unconscious arrogance of one who has always been paid in hard first world currency.
She never quite went so far as to ask me to help her out (though the first night I was there she very clearly explained to me how it was custom in South Africa to tip 10%). I think about her quite a bit and somehow feel that I should. If I ever do write a novel, she'll be in it. So maybe I should see if I can do anything for her in return.
joella
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