hello. are you circumcised?

on the road.

Before meeting Yaphinda on the side of the road, we were disappointed, or – at least – I was. We had driven to as middle-of-nowhere as you can get in Swaziland to pick up a client, and he didn’t show up. We stood on hill amidst mountains, a muddy road stretching down below us.

We waited and waited, no client. Thobile called his number multiple times. No answer. Finally, a response: I’m not coming today.

WAITING.

Thobile nodded, encouraged him to continue to think about the decision, and promised to follow up in the coming week to see if he changed his mind. She’s used to this. Every morning, she and her team know this is going to happen. They know that they’ll drive over bumpy, potholed, unpaved roads to pick up their clients, and they know that at the last minute many of those clients will change their minds, they’ll get cold feet. They’ll have excuses. They’ll vanish.

It’s all part of the job. We get back in the car and drive the soft but bumpy hills of Ludzeludze, windows down, rolling up slowly next to groups of young men walking along the side road. Thobile and the team greet them and ask, casually and openly: Have you been circumcised? Would you like to be?