Whole Waiting Room Enjoying African Woman’s Phone Call


ABSOLUTELY everybody waiting in Dr. Meaghars surgery in Cork city today were said to be enjoying Zimbabwe native Susan Dhliwayo’s forty minute phone call to a friend.

The mother of four children, who were now drawing on National Geographic books in the waiting room, began the call shortly after entering the building.

Approaching reception, Mrs. Dhliwayo partook in a three way conversation with both friend and receptionist Katie Rice, who was arranging appointments for the day:”Do you think she’d put down the phone?” voiced Ms. Rice later to a colleague. “They must have no manners over there.”

Continuing her full blown conversation, the 42-year-old, who is probably an asylum seeker, was abruptly given a signal to sit down in the waiting room to the left, containing fellow human beings in silence.

“She doesn’t need a phone that one.” hinted future cancer patient Thomas Doyle, who had been waiting 23 minutes and 41 seconds to be called. “I bet she’ll get seen to before me.”

Oblivious to her surroundings, Mrs. Dhliwayo calmly paced up and down through the maze of legs stretched out in the middle of the small room.

“I’m not fucking moving my legs for her.” thought Martin Reagan, who two seconds later moved his legs to let her pass.

Following a loud burst of laughter from the African, elderly woman, Bridget Egan openly tutted the exclamation, whispering to a fellow old age pensioner: ‘That’s more of it now.’

Children Daniel, James, Paula and Tyrone were also under scrutiny for play acting like kids.

“She just lets them do what they want.” pointed out cataract sufferer Tom McCabe, who has a son locked up in Limerick prison. “So rude the way she’s talking loud in foreign. The government are probably paying for the phone bill.”

Finishing her call, Mrs. Dhliwayo said goodbye her friend Jane, who was being treated in a Zimbabwean hospital for female genital mutilation after being attacked by a tribe of men from her community. Using the last of her €10 phone credit allowance for the week, Susan wished her old pal all the best and told her she wished she could have brought her when she escaped the cruel village they both lived.

“How is Ireland.” Jane asked in her native tongue, still in pain from the ordeal.

“It is fine. People hate us here, but at least I’m alive and my kids are safe. Racism is a small price to pay. I miss you dearly.” she replied, before the automated English speaking voice cut in telling her she has no credit left to continue this call.

Finally sitting down, Mrs. Dhliwayo apologised in her broken English as best she could – a gesture everyone falsely accepted.