They sell themselves for as little as R50. They are the Great Unwashed, writes Don Makatile.
Around 4pm the park is a hive of activity as everybody is back “home” after a full day on the street rounds, rummaging through rubbish bins for recyclable material and other discarded usables.
Everybody is here to take stock of their day's takings - hits and misses. Many reward themselves with the poison of their choice, a drink or smoke. Some appraise the second-hand clothing they have been given or found. It is a sight to behold, human “waste” finding camaraderie among themselves and making do with the hand fate has dealt them.
The women of the park are frenetically at work, too, looking for clients to service among the males with fire in their crotches.
You just have to love the chutzpah of the ladies. They do not confine their services to their men only, they cast their net wider to passing trade that lingers long enough They sit on the pavements exactly the same way moms have always warned girls not to sit: with their legs wide apart.
They sell themselves for as little as R50. They are the Great Unwashed. Not a cent of the money looks like it goes towards bath soap.
The bottle store on the ground floor of the Village Main Hotel does a roaring trade with beer and cigarettes. But the hotel proper serves the prostitution network playing itself out in the park.
On the notice board inside the hotel are the rates, beginning at an hourly rate of R70 for a room. The notice asks if the prospective guest would require a towel. Those who find the hotel rates too steep, say “we have a place”. The place charges R10.
It would be laughable if it were not so sad a topic in the HIV/Aids era.
A few short paces further south, towards Durban Street, one finds factories hard at work with production. The women of the park prowl these streets as the normal world prepares to knock off.