I see the slender man for the first time on the school run. He is on Windermere Hill, a pothole-infested stretch of road just left of “Schafli cross," as locals refer to the crossroads on the Jikeleza coastal road near East London. A lone figure with a spade, wearing a tattered reflective jacket. On my way back, I see what he is up to.
He has a little cart heaped with rocks and soil and is transferring them into potholes. It has been raining, and here in our neck of the woods the road surface dissolves after even the lightest downpour. People have become sanguine about it (like just about everything else that requires a capable state). We swerve and dance (and drive around on grass verges) when the community-patched potholes inevitably reappear like old friends.
The road leading to our village is a special pockmarked edition of 50 Shades of Grey, from years of citizens' DIY maintenance; we use tar when we have enough money in our pay-what-you-can fund, cement when the kitty is running low...
Register for free to read this article.
Hello! Vrye Weekblad moved from Arena Holdings to the Nuwe Vrye Weekblad Media Group on 1 October
2022. This means that we must ask you to create a reader profile again.
For October, which C. Louis Leipoldt did not call "the most beautiful month" for nothing, this will give you access
to all articles published in that month.
We hope this gives Arena enough time to pay out all outstanding subscription fees to current subscribers.
From 1 January 2023 you will take out a subscription. But for now everything is mahala! Enjoy it. And thanks for
being with us again!
WE THE PEOPLE
Meet Thandile Mdlungu, the self-appointed pothole master of Windermere hill
ANNELIESE BURGESS is intrigued by a lone figure in a reflector jacket filling potholes on a pockmarked piece of road near East London.
Share
I see the slender man for the first time on the school run. He is on Windermere Hill, a pothole-infested stretch of road just left of “Schafli cross," as locals refer to the crossroads on the Jikeleza coastal road near East London. A lone figure with a spade, wearing a tattered reflective jacket. On my way back, I see what he is up to.
He has a little cart heaped with rocks and soil and is transferring them into potholes. It has been raining, and here in our neck of the woods the road surface dissolves after even the lightest downpour. People have become sanguine about it (like just about everything else that requires a capable state). We swerve and dance (and drive around on grass verges) when the community-patched potholes inevitably reappear like old friends.
The road leading to our village is a special pockmarked edition of 50 Shades of Grey, from years of citizens' DIY maintenance; we use tar when we have enough money in our pay-what-you-can fund, cement when the kitty is running low...
Register for free to read this article.
Hello! Vrye Weekblad moved from Arena Holdings to the Nuwe Vrye Weekblad Media Group on 1 October 2022. This means that we must ask you to create a reader profile again.
For October, which C. Louis Leipoldt did not call "the most beautiful month" for nothing, this will give you access to all articles published in that month.
We hope this gives Arena enough time to pay out all outstanding subscription fees to current subscribers.
From 1 January 2023 you will take out a subscription. But for now everything is mahala! Enjoy it. And thanks for being with us again!
Already registered? Click "Sign Up" to continue
For new VWB 3.0 enquiries: WhatsApp 071 170 8927 (for text messages only) or email hulp@vryeweekblad.com.
Related Articles
Pleisters vir ons doodspaaie
The anatomy of a failed municipality
Are we really who we say we are?
Gauteng’s public health system is in ICU
Failed state? Just wait, here comes a new wave of People Power
Share
-
Share
Anneliese Burgess
Co-editorAnneliese Burgess is co-editor of Vrye Weekblad. She was awarded the 2023 ATKV-Mediaveertjie for investigative journalism.