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After so many months of battle and sacrifice, the tough journey was lastly over. Lindiwe had arrived. In the town’s brief history, couple of had suffered as much as Lindiwe to reach Ashton Lovelock. Few could have withstood the rape, hardship and cravings. Couple of would have willingly paid so much from so little cost savings to make a home in the fifty year old English New Town.

But desperation had driven Lindiwe to extreme steps, as it had her fellow migrants who ‘d also made it through the journey.

Lindiwe hadn’t seen the stops on her voyage as a traveler might, although there were few European travelers who would venture into sub-Saharan Africa these days. What she saw of the thousands of miles between Southern Africa and Northern Europe wasn’t through the round windows of an aeroplane soaring above the clouds and streaking ahead of a trail of excessively costly nonrenewable fuel source. She saw no airports and a lot of certainly no passport controllers. Had she fulfilled even one between Lesotho and London, she ‘d have been unceremoniously bundled away in the back of a migration paddy wagon either to be disposed back in her native land or apprehended in among the many refugee camps that lined the shores of North Africa. And from what Lindiwe had heard about these camps, her most likely fate there would be a lonesome death while she waited for a decision from the many government firms and private charities that were fruitlessly arguing with one another over the responsibility for feeding the countless desperate souls in their care.

When there were so many other more immediate requirements to resolve, no one would want to be burdened with such responsibility.

Lindiwe didn’t anticipate Ashton Lovelock to deal with unlawful immigrants with any more kindness than Nairobi, Cairo, Harare, Sarajevo or Rotterdam would have done if her existence had been discovered by an authorities at any point on her trip. There were the weeks and, in the slums of Cairo, the months of working for very little pay and an excellent deal of spoken and physical abuse in occupations that were far more menial than her post-graduate degree and expert training had ever prepared her for.

Here in the Kingdom of England, there might be a chance to make great the credentials that were surplus to requirements in Maseru. Lindiwe had high expect Ashton Lovelock. Despite the crumbling decay of the hastily-built home she was remaining in, it was a relatively young town with energy-efficient housing, extensive parking spaces, and a profusion of windmills and solar panels.

The truth was that Ashton Lovelock was a genuine paradise compared to her initial house in Africa. The years of African starvation hadn’t reduced general population numbers by very much. The few available jobs paid very improperly if they ever paid at all.

This inevitably left a vacuum that was now being filled by the most current wave of immigrants: of which Lindiwe was one. She was just one of many. Many came from Africa, at least as numerous from the Middle East and Asia, and, inevitably, refugees from the racially intolerant Republic of North America.

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Aparo shared the very same single mattress with Lindiwe in a room that had actually as soon as been a loft extension. Three bed mattress filled almost all the offered floor space and each of them, including the bed mattress the two friends shared, was house to one set of people throughout the day and another throughout the night. Apara and Lindiwe shared the mattress in the daylight hours. In the evening, a black married couple from Mississippi slept on the very same mattress and often left behind the trace of semen discolorations.

” There are no jobs at KFC-McDonalds,” stated Aparo, describing the franchise where she worked. “You’re simply going to have to look for work in other places.”

Lindiwe’s heart sank. Because Mr and Mrs Martin would be there and there weren’t numerous locations open in the night where she might hope to find work, she couldn’t sleep on the bed mattress at night. This suggested that her pursuit of work would likewise suggest going without sleep.

Bleary-eyed and bored, after a night invested in the area of the bus depot in the company of others with nothing else to do, Lindiwe resolutely roamed the streets of Ashton Lovelock in the hunt for an employment opportunity. Not that there were numerous locations to visit in the town centre. The owner of KFC-McDonalds, herself a South African immigrant, was sympathetic however mentioned that there was a long waiting list of equally desperate prospects. The other fast-food chain, Yo Sushi Pizza Hut, was rather less friendly and more or less informed her that just Muslim guys could use. Besides that, the only supermarket– a Tesco-Walmart– was honestly hostile and told her that the business had a policy of reporting believed immigrants. So there was little hope there either.

Lindiwe quickly realised that there were no jobs for her in Ashton Lovelock at all. The immigrant community had currently taken all the offered low-paid opportunities. And this was much to the apparent distaste of native English people, many of whom freely ridiculed Lindiwe with unsubtle reminders of the unethical practices of the deposed Government of National Unity.

The ever-widening radius of her task search eventually incorporated a service estate on the boundary of Swindon where Lindiwe, at last, got a position however as absolutely nothing more requiring than a nightshift cleaning-woman. Although this position needed a pricey two-hour commute by bus followed by a half-hour walk it was still much better than having to invest the entire night preventing the couple sleeping on her daytime mattress.

Her official tasks primarily involved changing on and turning off the various cleansing makers and robots. However, it wasn’t long up until Lindiwe found that cleansing wasn’t everything she was expected to do, although it wasn’t written into her terms and conditions of work (which, in any case, were entirely verbal and agreed with a handshake).

During the very first week that Lindiwe worked at the George Monbiot eco-business park, she became aware of the existence of spaces that were out of bounds to her and the other night-time operatives. There would inevitably be an e-paper sign published on the door of these rooms that requested that they be cleaned up later. In case there might be some misunderstanding, these doors were locked from the within. Because the only individuals expected to be working at the workplaces so late at night were security guards and technical operatives, this was odd.

It soon became apparent what was taking place when Lindiwe bumped into any of the individuals who had actually been remaining in a locked room. Lindiwe also observed the smell of sex that was lingering on their individual.

” I like all the staff to chip in,” Lindiwe’s manager described as he handed her the meagre benefits for her very first week’s work. He was a slim dark-skinned male with a turban and a West Midlands accent. He was an exile who ‘d returned home after the change of government. “The benefits are additional pay. I can’t assure a fortune however ideas can make a distinction.”

” Why do not people go to brothels and massage parlours?” asked Lindiwe, who understood that her ongoing work was probably conditional on her accepting this additional work.

” The modification of government brought about lots of excellent opportunities,” Mr Singh said with a sigh, “otherwise I wouldn’t be here, of course. This operation is similar to lots of others you’ll find all over this country.

And what they wanted was something Lindiwe now needed to provide about twice a week in one of the several out-of-bound offices. They were furnished with rather fundamental beds instead of computer systems, desks and chairs. The felt-covered partitions around each cubicle now served the function of hiding what was going on. There was a consistent stream of customers who came to enjoy the affordable satisfaction that immigrant labour was now providing: their appetites whetted by the VR dreams they could enjoy in the convenience of their own homes.

For Lindiwe, this provided no pleasure at all up until she squeezed into the office shower with the other nightshift cleaners to spray off the semen, urine and other bodily fluids that the consumers believed was a necessary part of love-making but throughout which ordeal the vaginal penetration was probably the least distasteful part.

In the town’s short history, few had suffered as much as Lindiwe to reach Ashton Lovelock. And from what Lindiwe had actually heard about these camps, her most likely fate there would be a lonely death while she waited for a decision from the lots of government firms and private charities that were fruitlessly arguing with one another over the duty for feeding the millions of desperate souls in their care.

Lindiwe didn’t anticipate Ashton Lovelock to treat unlawful immigrants with any more compassion than Nairobi, Cairo, Harare, Sarajevo or Rotterdam would have done if her presence had been discovered by an official at any point on her voyage. Bored and bleary-eyed, after a night invested in the vicinity of the bus depot in the business of others with nothing else to do, Lindiwe resolutely wandered the streets of Ashton Lovelock in the hunt for an employment chance. And this was much to the evident distaste of native English citizens, numerous of whom openly teased Lindiwe with unsubtle tips of the dishonest practices of the deposed Government of National Unity.

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4318 Broad Clough, EN OL13 8

Lancashire, England (EN)

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