A Financial Manager in the new South Africa
The sun has risen like a large red ripe orange
and I can almost smell its ripeness
on the early morning air
and I am driving my brand new red BMW
with its leather seats,
dark windows, flaring South African flags
and large L-sign,
slowly through the old dilapidated pickups,
the old Jetta’s and ten year old cars
of the white folks
who are going to work
like a herd of cows.
BEE is a really great thing
and gave me the opportunity
to be promoted from filing clerk
to financial manger
and now my cousin
who was formerly a tea lady
is the personnel manager
and although the job seems tough
it doesn’t really matter
how I do it,
as long as I get to work on time
and drive the white minority to perform
and to stand in for me.
Sometimes facts and figures
goes right pass me, but my white deputy
certainly knows his stuff
and at times talks on my behalf,
especially at board meetings
and if he doesn’t buckle up
and toe the line
his job will be mine
to give to another
who bows down
and says yes boss to me.
Just now I will scratch my head,
put my feet on my desk
and ask aloud:
“right where am I now? ”
And when the figures
on the papers in front of me
doesn’t add up
shaking my head
I will remark:
“going nowhere slowly.”
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poem by Gert Strydom
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