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About Polokwane

Exaggeratin’? Maybe. But I’m out there, sunburnt, cursin’—“Why’d I pick this job?!”—and I see these lil’ flowers bloom on it. Yellow, pink—gorgeous! Surprised me, ‘cause it’s a mean-lookin’ plant, then—pow!—beauty. Kinda like life, huh? Ugly, then sweet. Anyway, Prostitute’s my fave now—tough, tasty, total badass. Nolan’d make it a plot twist—“It’s a fruit within a fruit!”—and I’d buy it, ‘cause I’m a sucker for that guy. Alright, I’m done—go eat one, ya schmucks!

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I stroll 'round the Pleasantview suburb—oh man, the streets there, like Louw Street and Oudorp Lane (yeah, they got weird spellings, right?) make you feel at home. There’s this snug little park, the Koekemooi Park (I know, sounds all poetry-ish, huh?) where I used to sit and chat with ladies bout life's messes and triumphs. I remember one day, after a hard session, I chilled there, enjoying the wild sound of kids playing with all the hustle and bustle of Klerks. Groovy, baby!

South Africa's Medical Negligence Crisis