Carol’s Column

Sometimes good things do happen to good people

Each morning, before the sun rose, Monde Mbomlambe and his wife Lucia rolled off their bed, poured a little water from a plastic container into a small pot and while Lucia made tea, Monde washed himself carefully with the water that had been poured into another plastic bowl.

Then, as Monde sipped his tea, Lucia in turn, washed herself. The couple dressed and set off across the flats. For the past two years, Lucia had been working as a daily sleep-out char for three different families. Monde on the other hand, had been unable to find regular employment although he had a Std 8 and had briefly worked on a building site for a few months.

That had been until three weeks ago, when, Monde, to his delight, became the recipient of a truly plum job.

The stocky young man with the engaging smile travelled an hour across town to a bustling shopping centre where, on arrival, he, along with three other men, donned bulky red suits and caps, shining black boots and attached curling white beards to their cheeks.

In a jiffy, Monde Mbomlambe was transformed into Father Christmas.

Of all the Father Christmases, Monde was the most popular. His engaging personality and caring attitude towards his young visitors ensured that he was in great demand.

"So what do you want for Christmas?" he'd gently ask the miniature person standing in front of him.

"A doll, a bicycle, a computer game, a Barbie doll, an electronic fire engine.

To tell the truth, many of the gifts requested by his small charges, he'd never heard of before.

Late at night, as he and Lucia snuggled together, he'd discuss his day with his partner.

He described to Lucia how, for the first time he'd seen a battery car in which a child could sit and drive. "Just like a real motor car," he described it to Lucia.

The best presents, he confided to Lucia, were the people presents. The little girl who wanted a baby brother or sister or the tiny boy who wanted his daddy to get better and eat Christmas cake. There were, he also confided to Lucia, the naughty children, those without respect like the one who'd pulled off his cap and beard, or the boy who'd kicked him in the knee.

For Monde, an enjoyable aspect of his job was the fact that each day the Father Christmas contingent were given lunch and tea and Monde ate particularly well. The week before Christmas was frenetic. Shoppers came in their hundreds to the mall and Monde and his colleagues spent their days ringing their bells, smiling and chatting to children.

As the Christmas week drew to a close, Monde became silent in the evenings as he and Lucia spoke together in their shack. A perceptive woman, she understood that he was distressed because he realised his Father Christmas days were coming to an end and that soon, once again, he'd be unemployed, standing in queues, waiting on corners, knocking on doors and walking around industrial areas in the hope of finding a job. And then a miracle occurred. Last Thursday, two days before Christmas, Monde was offered a permanent job at the department store and in the new millennium, this capable young man will begin his new career.

"He will start at the bottom," Lucia said to me happily as she completed my ironing. "But I know he will work his way upwards quickly.

"You know," she added, "I think this Christmas God wrapped His wings around us . . ."

Sometimes good things do happen to good people.

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