Elna De Lange, Strand
His name was Lucky, he was the pride of Solid Waste Department.
Everybody knew him, he was the most likeable person in his area, hardworking and caring. He would get up 4am to catch two taxis to be on time for work.
Everybody working with him on the truck, respected his famous whistle. That was the indication for the driver to move to the next stop to collect the black bins.
The driver would not proceed, unless Lucky’s whistle was heard.
His wife stands in the kitchen door of their house, staring at the lemon tree in the backyard.
It is very cold and wet from the rain in the night. The sun is not out yet. Sophi wiped off a few tears.
This is the call she prepared herself to receive at any time. He did not make it the Covid-19 virus he could not fight it anymore.
Slowly she walked to the lemon tree and broke off two small branches, and put them like a cross and wrapped a piece of fishline around them, just like Lucky did.
The children in their street brought, over a period, a stillborn puppy, two dead cats and two dead birds.
Lucky buried them next to his lemon tree, and each got their own cross.
Sophi took the cross she made and planted it, walked a little backwards, inspected the position of the cross and stood there, tears streaming down her face.
“Lucky, the sixth cross is for you!”
