While most South Africans are celebrating a festive Christmas Day, many others will be on the empty, mean streets of Jozi fighting to survive.
Edward Mawela, 41, sleeps in a tent under a bridge in Johannesburg. For him the season holds very little in festivities.
“Most days we survive from food people give us from their car windows. This time of the year people feel more shame, so they give more. But there are very little people. Most are away, so we struggle now,” Mawela told TimesLIVE.
He is one of three people sharing a tent and makeshift beds under the shelter of the bridge. The other two people — man and a woman — did not want to talk.
“I am in charge here. The three of us share everything we get,” says Mawela.
“My friend here was attacked by criminals with knives while I was sleeping. They stabbed him and took everything we had. We are never safe.”
Mawela, originally from a farm near Groblersdal in Limpopo, has been living on the street for 21 years.
“I don’t know any other place now. Over Christmas you will find me here, because I have no other place to go.”
Less than 100m away, Freddie Sathekge, 48, waves a takeaway cup at passing motorists. Empty and in vain.
“You struggle more in Christmas time because there are not so many cars. The people are going to warm places, so they don’t see us,” Sathekge says.
He glances at the darkening clouds and shrugs.
"When it rains, they close the windows. No money then."
Sathekge sleeps in a tent in the bush.
“We cook on fire. Some people gave us a bag of mealie meal. Now we buy wors when we can. That is very good food,” Sathekge smiles.
He says business started picking up after lockdown.
“On a good day you can make R120 to R180. You can survive like that.”
But the "good days" are gone for now.
"I will struggle to make R50 today, so I will just eat pap."
Marthinus Barnard, 45, is from Vrededorp.
“I am originally from Polokwane and then Fietas — Vrededorp. I have been living on the streets now for nine years. I stay in a tent in the hills near Fietas,” says Barnard.
His blue eyes twinkle sadly in his weather-beaten face as he confesses: “Drugs is a big problem in my life. All of us are addicted to nyaope. There are 11 nyaope merchants between here and Fietas. Eleven places, and most days there are queues. That shows you how popular it is.”
He shakes his head angrily.
“We give them the power. You make one mistake when you are young, then this thing grows inside you until it takes control. I have been on drugs for so long, I feel drunk when I am sober. I don't feel right.”
He survives from “begging and cleaning people’s yards”.
For Barnard, survival costs R100 a day.
“I need two bags of nyaope a day to be okay. That is R40 a bag. Then R20 for food. If I make R100 in a day, it is a very good day.”
When asked how he imagines life would have been if he never crossed paths with nyaope, he shakes his head.
“I dreamed of working on the boats. You know, maybe even seeing America,” Barnard sighs as he glances at his feet, clad in two torn sneakers.
“Now that is all gone, but if this story helps one kid avoid nyaope, I guess it is okay.”
Solomon Moloi, 29, was born in Mahikeng and raised in Soweto. He’s spent most of his adult life either in a prison cell or on the streets.
“I came out of prison in 2017. I had no place to go. My mother was dead, and there was just my younger brother. The rest of the family wanted nothing to do with me ...
“After my mother died, my little brother would always ask, when is she coming back? with sadness in his eyes. When I came out of prison, my brother’s eyes chased me to the street,” says Moloi.
He says street life is hard but all he has.
“Nyaope keeps me on my feet. I have tried suicide many times, but I never passed. Here on the street, it is okay. My brother doesn’t see me here. I meet thousands of people in their cars, but I am invisible. They don’t know my name.”
Moloi is beyond smoking nyaope.
“I am injecting now. It is painful.”
Moloi shakes his head.
“I am inflicting pain to take away pain.”
He says 2023 will be his year.
“God sent me a sign. Twenty-three is basketball star Michael Jordan’s number. This year I will slam-dunk the drugs and take a leap of faith like Michael Jordan.”
It is Jabulani Komane’s ninth Christmas on the streets of Johannesburg.
“I am from Tsolo in the Eastern Cape. I hiked here a long time ago.”
Komane also sleeps under a bridge.
“When we don’t get food from people in cars we cook on a fire, but we have to be careful. The police don’t like smoke. If they see smoke they always come. So we hide the fire and only use dry wood.”
He leans on a crutch that has seen better days.
“A car hit me seven years ago. I have steel in me from the hip to the leg. It is a big problem with a lot of infections. If I had a lawyer I could get money for this leg, but where do you find a lawyer here?”
R50 to a R100 is a good day’s pay, says Komane.
“This last week was very quiet. I don’t have money to go to Eastern Cape, so I will stay at my robot over Christmas and hope some people drive past.”
TimesLIVE
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