Straatwerk

I cannot be called an expert on public toilets, but I have a good insight in how the toilets in the Mother City function. I know the rules, the do’s and the don’ts and I am surprised every day.

STRAATWERK means to be present on the streets of Cape Town on a regular basis.

STRAATWERK means: interaction, communication and showing love and being Christian on the streets. It also means that a person can become hungry and thirsty and that one needs a public toilet from time to time.

To protect the toilets and the people concerned, I have decided not to give the names of the streets and names of the people concerned. Some of the stories will have to be left out, because they are not the kind to be told in public ...... but believe me, a public toilet is not just a toilet.

I could not believe my eyes when I first entered these specific toilets. There was a friendly “aunty” who passed me the toilet paper and told me which toilet to use (apparently everyone does not use the same toilet – some type of toilet apartheid). Another time, at the same toilet, a man came out from the ladies side – Sorry lovey, he has just gone to fetch me the Son newspaper so that I can stay informed about the news of the day, this same aunty shouted to me from her small office. She told me to sit down and started talking about the news of the day and about the STRAATWERK program on Radio Tygerberg. I began feeling my eyes swimming from the effort of being friendly. I think she saw this and that is why she gave me the piece of toilet paper. My last visit to this specific toilet was when I had reached the door – excited, because me and the aunty had become old friends and she always gave me the clean toilet and the toilet paper, because I was a regular there. To my surprise, the aunty was sitting outside the toilet, very sulky. Both men’s and ladies toilets were locked. I asked: Aunty, what now? I just want to use one of the toilets. Are you on lunch? (I asked with my tongue in my cheek, because I know that she usually eats her polony sandwich or her gatsby in her little office). Well, the aunty’s reply was: I am tired of all the young men and women who use my toilets to use the drug TIK. Now I have finished. Next time I will phone the police after I have locked them inside the toilets. The toilets are closed until further notice. That was the end of my VIP treatment at that public toilet.

(Our paths did cross again on a day when I needed the public toilet the most. I had been grouped with the strictest foreman at Project OPRUIM. He gave us a two minute break and can you believe it? There I saw my favorite aunty. The aunty had been promoted to other public toilets, where people do not use Tik in the toilets and where she can peacefully go her way and do her work and be proud of it. We could not talk for long, because my foreman was in a hurry – but I could see my aunty had found peace in these toilets. Long live my Aunty!)

After the Tik incident, I had visited toilets here and there. At most of the toilets one has to hang in the air like a finch, your dress bundled under your arm, just to prevent it from touching the wet floor (who knows why it is so wet?). You must also keep your handbag on your lap, keeping your legs in a semi-standing position, moving towards the toilet, avoiding touching anything, keeping your balance. Like a proper gymnast, you try to find your last tissue in your bag. No friendly aunty to hand you toilet paper and no toilet paper anywhere to be seen.

Then there is also the 50c toilet, which later became the R1 toilet – better known as the randjie (small rand) toilet. Be sure to have

your own R1, because the machine only takes R1 coins and nobody standing in the line will give you a rand, or will lend you one or will exchange other coins for a rand coin,. Usually the line is long, but it is worth the wait. There is usually also toilet paper and most of the toilets work. There are also wonderful women who see to it that the toilets are relatively clean.

One day at the R1 toilet, I lost my temper completely. I seriously needed to go. The line was long and I was in a hurry to catch a train. At last, it was my turn. I inserted my R1 and started to turn in the big gate. Then the gate stopped. Needless to say - I had to put in a another rand- my last rand. The women behind me in the line was clumsy and put down her shopping bags in the way of the gate and then the gate stopped again, keeping me inside.

At first, I could not move forward or backward and then the friendly lady with the shopping bags helped me get out – no, not on the side of the toilet, but on the other side. That means another R1 that I did not have. One woman then found it necessary to try to explain to me that I first had to insert R1 before the gate would turn. At that moment I lost my temper and started to yell about the R2 that I had lost already and about how fed-up I was with public toilets and that I was going to miss my train. For a moment, there was silence, but then I was quickly pushed out of the way and the next lucky lady only paid R1 and quickly moved into the toilets. I then ran to the station toilets. Not before I had first tried to determine whether I could not perhaps reach home with my full bladder. Alas, no! Another line - but it is moving fast, it is free and it is new. The toilet paper for the day was no more, but who cares? I think I have found my public toilet ..... on Cape Town station.

During the next week, at the same toilets, I found myself in a long line again, but it moved quickly because only two toilets were out of order. Everyone is in a hurry, all in a hurry to catch trains, so your eyes are fixed on the doors to see which one will open first. From the back of the line, a woman came walking forward and everyone said: Ag, shame, and allowed her to move in front of them – until she was right in front. You see, this woman was very pregnant and women know how to express sympathy when it really matters. it was so impressive and so unselfish that I wanted to embrace all the women who were so compassionate.

A few weeks later, I was again in a long line waiting at my favorite public toilet on the station. The line moved very slowly. At last I was in a position to see what was happening .... more that half of the toilets were out of order! At half of the basins the tapes were covered with green plastic bags – also out of order! I could feel my heart sinking. And then, again while everyone was staring at which toilet door would open next, everyone moved to allow a woman through. This time it was not a pregnant woman, but a woman with one leg only and with two crutches, it would have been impossible for her to stand in the line for long. As far as she moved forward, she whispered: God bless you, may God bless you.

That day I ran to be in time for my train. I was in time to see the train leave the station. I had missed it by a few seconds. Yes, probably it was the woman with only one leg who had caused me to miss my train, but so what? The next train came and I reached home before dark AND at home, I have my own toilet which I can use, for hours if I should want to. Many women, who use the station toilet, have no facilities at home and

would have to use the toilet at the station the next morning before they start their work of the day.