My domestic worker, Liz, regales me with tales of the happenings in her neighbourhood. She lives in a burgeoning squatter camp not too far from here.
This one time, there was a gent who got stabbed in a bar fight at the local shebeen. His friends smuggled him home and he died in his bed. Liz’s diagnosis? The wind blew into the wound in his stomach! That’s what done him in.
Then, this morning, she proudly announced: “I saw a witch!”. Apparently, there was this chap running naked through the settlement, complaining that he is being beaten. He said he came from a graveyard in Fairlands. The detail about the graveyard, had everyone convinced that he must be a witch! He tried to hop into the car my domestic had hired to take her neice and newborn baby to hospital. “Ha!”, she exclaimed, “We were so shocked! I never knew men can be witches!” Neither did I, Liz, neither did I!