The man was all shades of gray and brown such that he blended together from his curly hair to his shoes. He was just walking below us as we were standing on our balcony in the deepening twilight. Where he was headed I do not know but it prompted me to write this short piece. This is a homeless man who I first saw at the little mall in Summerstrand where we go to the grocery store. He was in at the mall parking going through the garbage searching for cigarettes, some remainder of a soft drink, or whatever he could find, I presume. But I have never seen him begging. Begging is very common here. I don’t know how he survives. Now this man is white, most are black, but with all the dirt and grime on him and his clothes it is a hard to tell. Some how he is getting food for he is not getting weaker but he is not getting fatter either. Recently, I saw him coming from the downtown area headed out along Beach Road toward Summerstrand Mall. How does one get to this point in one’s life? How does one survive?
Begging is very common in P.E. and I presume in South Africa in general. It was in Cape Town but again that is a large city which tends to attract the homeless as in any country. It was in Graaf-Reinet where a man saw when our tour bus came in and who followed us for some time hoping someone would relent and give him money. Frankly Graaf-Reinet was not that large so it must be all over SA.
One young man (I would estimate in his teens) begs at the intersection at a robot (stoplight in S.A.) coming from another smaller shopping center. He clasps his hands as if in prayer and rubs his stomach. I have not seen anyone give him money but he must get something for he persists nearly every day. It is one of the most difficult things that I do - is to drive on. Of course, if he were the only one, one would give him something but he is not.
There are certain intersections that attract a large contingent of “sellers” and beggars. The sellers will be offering auto plug-in rechargers for cell phone, a package of garbage bags, a newspaper (in the mornings), and whole array of other items. At the same intersection, I have seen an older white man begging and all he does is have a cardboard sign that he has his short story printed on it. He unfolds it for people to see and stands between lanes while the light is red. He moves to the side once the light changes and starts over again. I have seen someone give him money.
At another intersection on an off ramp, which I take to go to Pendla Primary School in the township, I find there are always men selling newspapers, begging, or simply hoping for a job for the day. The light is long and one can spend a seeming long time not looking at them in order to not attract their attention. It is something that I will not miss.
I didn’t know how much this bothered me until I sat sharing this with Norma. I guess that not being able to help hurts. But I think that it is also the realization of just how precarious life can be. I could be the grey man some day. (B)
While Bruce was pondering on the “need” on the street, I was reveling in the gifts of the street. In the Humewood Hotel next door there was African music and dance presentation going on their veranda and I was leaning over balcony and moving to the beat. It is such richness, a gift and it is tumbling out into the night for my pleasure. My heart was made glad! (N)
Such a contrast! (B)
