
One sister and a bakkie, 2012
Marlene Fourie qualified at Tygerberg and spent nineteen years on the wards before she took a job nursing a retired farmer in his own house in Somerset West. His family had been told the only option left was a frail-care bed in Durbanville, an hour away from anybody who loved him. She nursed him at home for two years, and when he died his daughter asked whether Marlene could not do the same for a friend down the road. That was Sorg: one registered nurse, a white bakkie and a diary on the kitchen table. Fourteen years on there are forty-six of us and the diary lives on a computer, but the geography has not moved. We work the Helderberg basin and nothing outside it — Somerset West, Strand, Gordon's Bay, Firgrove, Sir Lowry's Pass and Macassar. Everybody on the roster lives inside that circle, which is why a carer can be at your gate in twenty minutes when a night goes wrong, and why we turn down work in the southern suburbs no matter what it pays.



