carol-ann-gotbaum

It is not the vast potholes outside the department of home affairs in Randburg that lie in wait for me, nor the ad hoc middle men and women in the selfsame cul de sac whom I initially shied from, having faith both in my ability to queue and the slow rumbling of home affairs machinery. Nor was it the years now of waiting for what is known in the business as a vault birth certificate: the only vault I know of is the one I feel fit for, writes Maggie Davey.