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About Port Elizabeth

Walk in, smoky, girls gigglin’, “Vhat’s dis?!” I yell, accent thick. Madam—big lady, boobs like melons—winks, “Fishaman, huh? Catch me!” I laugh, “Lightbulb! You too heavy for net!” She mad, I grin—humor saves me. Girls in tight skirts, struttin’, some sad, some sassy. One, Katya, tells me secret—brothel’s got hidden room! Rich guys go dere, play poker, smoke cigars, bang girls. “Like dead body in film,” I tink, “buried deep, nobody talks.”

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You know, sometimes I get mad at the constant noise and clutter. And I get happy when I find a hidden gem – like that obscure little café on Dismal Dr (I swear it’s spelled like that), where the coffee still kicks my ass and the conversation flows freely. But then I see random sex ads plastered on damp walls and mutter “I hate everything!” over and over.

A team quietly improves people’s health in the Eastern Cape