When Babhi went out to the clothesline early in the morning, wrapping her hair in a towel, curious neighbors exchanged understanding smiles. Mosie was the first to hurry down the stairs of her single-story home, calling out loudly below: 'I'll move the laundry if you want to hang anything. It should be dry by now.'
This scene seemed as predictable as a frame from a Western. As soon as Loan Ranger appeared, Tonto followed shortly after. Chacha poked his head out of the bulging door of his ground-floor apartment, which consisted of one room and a kitchen. He was significantly older—a sturdy widower with a mop of gray hair, a cleft palate, and a railway pension.
Babhi was his second wife, whom they had prematurely dismissed from Springfield Training College in the first semester. 'Mr. Peters was unhappy with my work. No one else complained about my work,' Babhi would giggle every time she told the local ladies about her vibrant life, which began with a two-day train trip from Rylands to Durban via the stop Bloemfontein in January 1979.
Chacha wrung his underwear and waved it in the wind to remove excess moisture. With one thorn between his lips and another attached to the front of his vest, he presented an unusual sight near the lines. Men from Durban India considered it unworthy of their masculinity to appear near laundry.
Chacha even ground dal to fry vadai on a kadai over an open fire next to the washing stones. He was the main seller of spicy snacks, 'bites,' near Morris Vee's office in Unit 2. 'Never invested a cent in gambling,' he boasted. Every day during the races, he diligently deposited the earnings from selling vadai into Mrs. Didat's NBS agency. He proudly displayed his banana-yellow bank ledger, which was supposed to be the ticket for their eldest son Lukman to university. Four other children were supposed to follow him in line.
Mosie was breathing heavily. She barely managed to stumble down the stairs into the inner courtyard. 'The nurses at the clinic tell me I need to lose weight. How can these size 3 shoes support such a large body?' she muttered in her frequent self-deprecating jokes. Babhi hung her wet undergarments in the spot Mosie had cleared on the line. 'It must be the ghee you put in your food,' she laughed.
The women in the apartments maintained a warm friendship, except for Mrs. Abraham, a follower of a strange Brazilian cult. She kept to herself, although it was difficult for her not to peek through her printed tulle curtain when any movement occurred near the lines.
Mosie was a curious person, unafraid of deep questioning: 'Aren't you tired of constantly being pregnant?' Babhi burst out laughing. 'What to do when God gives?'
This was a time of family planning in Chatsworth, when nurses from the city's Health Department regularly visited women, conducting private consultations and distributing contraceptives. Pills were preferred because women could take them discreetly, even if their husbands or partners objected. These were times when condoms were strangely called 'French letters' or crudely abbreviated to two letters of the alphabet. Every second teenager walked around with one in their pocket, although they rarely found use for it. Men targeted by family planners could barely put them on correctly, so they relied on reliable pills to control state allowances for child-rearing.
Interestingly, Mrs. Abraham was also interested in obtaining a clinic card and the monthly 'Diana' allowance. She lived alone and never received visitors, especially men. 'But have you seen how beautifully her ferns are growing?' Mosie dared to ask. The urban legend that houseplants benefited from birth control pills had circulated for a long time. Now, it seemed, Mosie had real evidence of this story.
'It seems the pills aren't helping you, Babhi,' Mosie suggested. Babhi had a ready answer. 'Well, here's the thing. I take a prescription every month along with sleeping pills. Every night when I feed the children, I put one in my teenage daughter's food. Where do we fit in this house if she has a baby?'
Naturally, after a tiring day, Babhi could be confident in a peaceful night without any worries.