MAMBHELE: I wouldn't stay at that job. Yaw, men think we are toys for them to play with. No, no! That's why I told my husband to go, but he doesn't want to.

SDUDLA: These men think they can control us. I remember attending meetings a long time ago where men stood up and said that the government could not give us black women passes because that woman is under the control of a man. They thought we would not listen to them anymore.

MAMPOMPO: Ja, the man is the head of the house, you do what he says – it is our tradition.

MAMBHELE: You people from Transkei are old fashioned. Aren't we working hard, earning the money to support our children? Must we still do what they say?

SDUDLA: Mampompo, for years now we black women have been fighting for our rights. It is a long, hard struggle. We are treated like children by everyone, but as wives and mothers it falls upon us to make small wages stretch a long way. It is we who feel the cries of our children when they are sick and hungry. It suits the men to keep us like fools.

MAMPOMPO: Sdudla, you are mad! There must be something wrong with you upstairs. You have never taken a pass, always working here in this place, and now you want me to tell my husband what to do … Hayi uyandinyela. You are shitting on me.

MAMBHELE: Everyone is telling you what to do – your MADAM, the Boer, your black boss, your husband … when are you going to do something by yourself?

MAMPOMPO: Nonsense! I told myself to come to Cape Town. If I don't like a job I can leave.

SDUDLA: What job can you get? [No answer.] Mampompo? You see you are qualified for nothing and you will do what others tell you your whole life.

MAMBHELE [to a customer]: Mamqwambi mfazi, you know very well I don't give credit near the end of the month. No, I can't hear about problems. Everybody living under this system has got problems. You still owe me money from last month. If you give me the money you will get a chicken. [Sarcastically] You think I can give you another?