Jacob's Luck

 

I foraged in the trashcans at the Johannesburg train station and ate the scraps from
working class commuters before finding a hard bench to sleep on. Within moments, two hysterical kids stood before me with pocket knives poised to strike. Their resolute voices echoed through my brain, "Hey you, this is our bench - get away!"

In Xhosa culture, community is everything and the ability to share is instinctive, not with these comrades. I scurried away and found a bus shelter. I needed a bath, a job, and precious sleep; not necessarily in that order. 
 
I awoke to horns blaring. Commuters stared down at me from a safe distance as though I were infected with a contagious disease. Indeed, death seemed more comforting and I fled.
 
*****
 
I was crossing 34th Avenue in Melville, west of the city, when a wobbly woman cradling two bags emerged from Dent's Gift Shop. She walked one slow step at a time and suddenly tripped, dropping both parcels. A lean man alighted from a white limousine and hastened to help. I rushed through the gap in the busy road, collected the goods, and returned them to her a moment before he reached us.
 
"If only my assistant was around when these things happen. He's always busy rubbing that limo instead of helping me," she said, just as the driver appeared and relieved her of the packets. "You're too late, Benton."
 
Benton returned to the limousine without a word. Turning to me, she asked, "Do you
work for the gift shop?"
 
"No, madam."
 
"Thought so, haven't seen you here. I come here once a month. Too many useless staff if you ask me, none as helpful as yourself. What's your name?"
 
”Jacob Zwane."
 
She raised an eyebrow. 'My husband's name was Jacob, bless his soul. Follow me."
 
She returned to the shop and called for the manager who seemed surprised to see her.


"Is there a problem, madam?"
 
"This man needs a job."
 
"We have no vacancies."
 
"Well, Mr. Parsons, I suggest you find him something. Anything."
 
"At once, Mrs. Dent."


Louis Harris

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Name

Comment

Date

Erna

Echoes of OHenry. I like warm fuzzy endings that renew my faith in Providence.

 

I would have liked more detail, though: a longer build-up to the dénouement, so that I could get to know Jacob & his back story better first, before the delightful change in his luck. I could not “see” Jacob clearly – perhaps also because his voice did not convince me that he was a Xhosa man.

2007-09-26

Mandy

I like the way you describe the tramp. You really get inside his skin and portray what it must be like to be in that space.
I like the twist at the end
Well done

2007-09-29