I Wonder How I Fit Into My New Country Poem by Gert Strydom

Respect for other people
and self are missing
and while I go up the steps
of the bus
teenage girls are shouting
loudly to each other
and a ghetto blaster,
is playing very loud music
and it’s much worst
than in a mad bazaar.

a Toddler pushes her fingers
one after the other
into her nose
and draws lines
on seats and windows
and her mother
wipes her nose against her jersey.

An overweight lady
sits down next to me
and there’s a sharp smell
that hits my nose
and no other seat
to go to
and I wonder if she
bathed this week,
or this month
and are scared that head lice
are going to jump on to me.

The bus draws away
and misses a car narrowly
and jerks
while the driver changes gears,
as if he’s struggling
to get the right one.

When I get off at the bus stop
there’s a man relieving himself
and the urine smell,
hangs heavy in the air
and I wonder how
I fit into my new country.