When hungry; we are all the same.

The metallic smell of blood wafts through the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly boiled meat and exhaust fumes emitted by taxis shuttling harried passengers to their destination.

Being hungry in Durban usually meant one thing, bunny chows! But I was tired of the hollowed-out bread filled with curry. I've eaten it dozens of times and I wanted something different.

I asked around and was directed to the Outdoor Dining Hall which is located in eThekwini's busiest area. The Warwick Avenue market.
The Dining Hall itself is only a metre or less away from the busy street.
It is also just an open space with two rows of huge grey concrete slabs which make up functional tables and benches.
One row for customers to eat at and the other for the preparation of their food.
A simple roof covers the 'hall'.

On one concrete slab, Inhloko (cow heads) lie in wait to be turned into lunch.
A young boy stands next to it. His tiny hand reaches up to stroke the soft, silky-brown hairs of the cow. Gently, like comforting a beloved family pet.

An apron-clad woman wields an enormous knife. A cow head grins up at her, eyes open but vacant. She makes two snips at the ears, slips the knife under the skin and quickly begins the skinning the head. First around the eyes, then moving down towards the mouth. She then chops up the head and dumps it into a cauldron of boiling water. Only salt is added.

I sat amongst businessmen in formal suits and men in overalls, all talking and laughing with each other, finding common ground and patiently waiting for our food.

Simple white plastic forks and stainless steel plates are placed in front of the patrons and steaming inhloko and amadombolo (dumplings) are served to us..

Here, there is no distinction of class, or race, or financial status. We are all the same - hungry.