DISTRICT SIX AT MIDNIGHT 1965

DISTRICT SIX AT MIDNIGHT

Under a grey hollow sky

down streets wind-emptied

scoured and abandoned

by a brief sadistic rain,

I hurry.

Alone.

 

 

Between places, yet nowhere,

wet coat clutching at my legs

hot breath clutching at my heart

Head down against the wind.

Late and

alone.

A rustle makes me start.

A sharp scrape stops my breath.

A graceful shape lifts up,

its foot trapped by the grid

in the

gutter.

Gesturing like a beggar,

silently waving for help,

then abruptly blustering forward

threatening and slapping.

I turn

terrified.

Newspaper blowing on down the street

in a slow collapsing dance

suddenly deflated, silent, still.

Shift, twist, corners lift

and wave

goodbye.

 

 

Nothing is quite so meaningless

a windblown mindless mime

an abstract spite danced backwards.

But I am changed by my encounter.

Now I know

Fear.

Copyright Ruth Hartley 1965

Written in District Six, Cape Town before it was declared a white area by the Apartheid government and the Coloured community were moved out. It had a reputation for being a dangerous and violent place at night.