Blue, Green, Red and Purple: The Gardener
It is so easy not to be bothered when one encounters the gardener, as Betty Collins’s poem reveals.
He knocked at the door one summer morning
And asked for work
I didn’t like the look of him.
And besides, I was busy,
And did not
Want
To be bothered.
His eyes were bleary
As though he had been smoking dagga
And he had that whitish edge to his lips
Which the kaffirs get
When they fast.
He looked as though he smelt.
So I somaar gave him five bob.
‘Not today, thank you.’
Another day he came
A few months later.
I was in a better mood that day.
And, besides,
The yard
Was
In a mess.
So I said, alright,
Clean the yard.
He made a very good job of it;
I was surprised.
So I gave him a handful of silver
And a cardboard carton full of old clothes.
Wasn’t that great?
The other day
I saw him again
Lying in the gutter.
He was drunk.
So I crossed to the other side of the road.
Because I didn’t
Want
To be
Bothered.
*Dagga - MARIJUANA
