Words by Zimasa Matiwane and pictures taken by Bongani Mbatha
Hundreds of people took part in the I Dare to Care street sleepover, an eThekwini, ICare and Dennis Hurley Centre bid to draw attention to the plight of the homeless. Zimasa Matiwane was there.
A young man's struggle on the streets
The birth of a baby is a joyous occasion. But how does that person grow up and get lost on the streets with no food, shelter or family care?
I never knew how to answer this question. I’ve been privileged and couldn't imagine how this could happen.
When I went out to experience life as a “homeless” person, among those I met was Ayanda Thusi (not his real name). I was drawn to him as he sounded like he needed to be heard. We found a bench, shared a smoke and got to know each other. I soon realised we had striking similarities. We’re 27, born in the same month to unmarried parents, and both dreamed of being story tellers (he a poet, I a journalist) but our lives turned out so differently.
He lost his mother, his father left him, and his family did not care. I have both parents who care deeply. Thusi has lived on the streets since he was 9.
As we shared life stories, I wondered how I would have survived at that age living on the streets.
When I was 9, my concerns were what books to read, having a birthday party, my toys, Christmas clothes, playing with friends, and getting good grades so my grandfather could brag about how smart I was; stealing condensed milk from our cupboard and not getting caught.
Thusi had to worry about things many adults probably would never have to consider.
“Life for me is a constant struggle. There are things people take for granted, like a hot bath, going to school, a place to pee, a phone call from home, clean clothes, affection, support in trouble, all things I had to grow up without.
“Nothing is guaranteed, I can lose my ID, blankets and any money that I have managed to save. The most painful thing is I am still young and I can see my future dissolving.”
I realised how brave and bright he was. Surviving on the streets is hard when you are young because the older homeless people can take what you have and there’s nobody to stand up for you.
We spoke of music, dreams and other things. He asked me about blessers, HIV and the #FeesMustFall campaign, and I came to appreciate the danger of my self-indulgence.
Here was a guy who sleeps at the harbour knowing about issues that affected me while I knew nothing and cared little when I passed people like him.
I wanted to apologise for not caring enough, not knowing what to do, for my privilege, for never asking what I could do to help. I wished I could take some of his pain away - at least deal with it, provide a warm bed, loving family. But would I forget when I went back to work?
I now know I should not dwell on how and why people end up on the streets. The important thing is knowing I have the power to make them feel better.
This may not always mean giving them food or money. A hello or a smile, acknowledging their existence, might make the difference between their feeling like a burden on society, and soldiering on through their struggle.
The elderly homeless share their struggles
The disparity between the rich and the poor is a topic of interest in South Africa, but within our city’s tall buildings and glitzy street lights, there is an often ignorable issue of the homeless, especially the seniors, who line pavements at night, beg at traffic lights and nap in parks during the day. Their struggle seems to be on society’s periphery.
Liz Joubert knows this struggle too well. After living on the streets for 19 years, she cried for her dignity.
“The reality of living on the streets means begging for money, scrambling for food and having nowhere to sleep,” she said between sobs.
As a beggar, Joubert makes between R30 and R70 on a good day.
“I decide whether to buy food or pay for a place to sleep at a shelter. Those are not decisions a person my age should be making, “ said the 57-year-old.
According to Joubert, who moved from Pretoria, shelters around the city cost R60 a night, a luxury that is a rarity for her.
“I take it one day at a time,” she said while explaining how, as a woman, living on the streets is riskier.
“I worry about sexual assault, I can say I sleep but I don’t sleep.”
She added that being jobless was worse than sleeping outside, “ begging people for money is the hardest part, and I have lost my dignity.”
Another homeless person, David Moodley, shared the sentiment.
“I wish I had a place to live, sleeping outside is worse than hustling for food.”
At 56 he has spent 22 years on Durban streets. Although Moodley said life on the streets was hard, he admitted that he had himself to blame.
“I started doing drugs, I was a credit control officer at Rainbow Chicken but I defrauded the company because I wanted money to support my addiction.”
As a result of the fraud, Moodley lost his job and served a three year jail sentence. He said the worst thing that came out of his addiction was losing his family.
“My wife kicked me out at the height of my addiction, I ended up not raising my children, and I regret that every day,” he added.
Moodley lives 14km away from his Merebank home, but he said he could not go back.
“My children have grown up, they don’t need me, and I don’t want to disrupt their lives.”
Moodley says he survives on the mercy of strangers for food and, although he is grateful, it is not enough.
“Charity organisations give us food, but not on Fridays and Mondays, which I have come to know as the worst days,” he said.
But for 61-year-old Babazile Msani, who calls Mensel Road her home, every day is just as bad.
After the breakdown of her marriage, she left Mthwalume on the South Coast for the city, for a better life but struggled to find work.
“I mostly eat from the bin. This has been my life and I’ve gotten used to it, but I wish for my dignity back, at least a home.”
According to Msani, a woman is expected to have a home “but when you live on the street as an elderly female, people treat you like a child because you have nothing. That pains me.”
Contrary to what many believe, life on the streets is expensive. Msani said she made R17 to R20 on a good day selling cardboard. It’s not enough to feed her.
“I spend R10 for a bath, R2 to use the toilet and the rest I buy whatever I can to eat.”
Her health is deteriorating, she said “I take chronic medication on an empty stomach, sometimes I feel sick but what can I do?”
While Joubert, Moodley and Msani live very different lives on the streets of Durban, they all wished they had a roof over their head, citing their dignity as the one thing they wished to recover and retain.
One of their fears is dying on the streets.
Sunday Tribune