Below the bridge: Soweto’s homeless share their stories of struggle and hope

Thabo Nevari, 38, from Lenasia South, Extension 4

“For the past 15 years, I’ve been entangled in drug addiction and a life in the streets, a descent that didn’t begin with a chemical craving, but with loss. I lost both my parents while I was still in high school. The grief was sudden and disorienting, derailing my education and dismantling the stability I once knew.

“After losing my parents, I loosened my grip. The grief left me raw, and in that vulnerable state, I made decisions that felt urgent, but not wise. Sometimes ignorance doesn’t arrive with malice, but quietly, wearing desperation like a disguise. We choose what feels like survival, and only later discover we messed up.

“I truly believe that it’s the ideal time to change. I have learned so much and suffered immensely out here.

“I do believe that everything must come to an end, and that now is the time to seek help to turn my life around. I just do not know where to begin. I just find myself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“We are five siblings at home. I am in the middle, and I have two older and two younger brothers. All my other siblings are at home. I would say they are there but they are not, because I have not seen any of them bother to even check on me.

“I would love to redeem myself, and the first step towards that is finding shelter because I sleep out here along this wall. This is the perimeter wall of the Chris Hani Baragwanath Hospital in Soweto.

“It will be hard to rebuild my life here. What is annoying is that everyone judges us and many people come here and take our pictures under the guise that they will help us, but they go on to make money from our images. That is not fair, if they cannot help us like the government, they must leave us alone.

“It’s been hard to survive here in winter. It’s very cold and I do not have a blanket. I share one with one of the guys. They play their role because in the years that we have been living here without any help from the authorities, we figured that we needed one another.”

Sipho Goodwill Shabalala, 40, from Orange Farm

“I was heavily involved in crime as I grew up and during my high school days. I had to drop out of school in standard 8.

“What transpired was that I was in and out of prison. I would say I spent a good 10 years of my 40 in prison. What happened was that I would be released and arrested again, and my cases accumulated. 

“Eventually, I decided I needed to quit crime and life behind bars. I stopped, but the community knew me as a criminal. I had been tempted once because I was already smoking, and I trespassed into the neighbour’s garage and stole cleaning tools, car batteries and other stuff.

“I am not sure how, but they saw me and called out to the community. That was my last day at home. I left. They dismantled my shack at home and they chased after me and tried to shoot me. I stuck around in the community with friends, but the community would know and come looking for me so I had to eventually leave Orange Farm for Soweto.

“I have family here in Soweto, my sister in Mofolo and another one in Moletsane, but the one person who has come here to see me since I left home was my mother, who is back home in Orange Farm. When she came to Bara Hospital, she would come and see me.

“What happened, my brother, is that currently I am 40 years. I regret every moment when I look back. My heart bleeds because I have not done anything right in my life and for my mother. 

“I miss so much in life. God had blessed me with a child, but perhaps because of the way I was living my life the girlfriend’s family forced her to abort the baby because it had no father. My arrests ruined it for me. They gave her an ultimatum: that you either abort or leave. My child would be 13 years old now. 

“I remember I had felt a sense of pride at having a child. That child was the one who would have motivated me to do right in life because I would have to live for them.

“Now it’s winter. I sleep here and I do not have a single blanket. I am in a crisis. The day before yesterday, the rain threatened us at night.

“I had blankets but the community watchers and Community Policing Forum members who are supposed to be looking after the townships came here and assaulted us and also took our blankets. They accused us of crime, but we do not even know where they live. This is what is the worst about life on the streets. Everyone thinks you are worthless and worthy of blame.

“I am old now. At 40, I just need help to turn my life around as I turned my back on crime.”

Relebogile Phakisi, 38, from Mondeor

“For me, it all began after I started smoking dagga. I then dropped out of high school in Grade 11. I dropped out because of peer pressure as we were already smoking. 

“My mother did not give up on me and took me to a college in Dube, Soweto, to study at George Tabor College. I did the National Qualifications Framework. I was doing tourism but I could not complete my studies because I fell out with my mother again.

“I was now using drugs, and my mother sent me away to my grandmother. But when I got there, I did not stop taking drugs. I also got involved in crime and I was arrested. My mother decided to bring me back to Mondeor again. 

“But in Mondeor, my stepfather kicked me out and told me to come back to the house when I am clean. I can hardly say I blame them. It was a dark period in my life.

“I have been living here in the streets for over two years now. I have not had any family members come and check on me here because I understand that they now live in Limpopo.

“I would go back to the house, but my stepfather would tell me to leave and come back when I am clean. Since then, I have been living here and I survive by helping people carry their stuff around, and they pay by giving me a small amount of food.

“I now need help to reunite with my family and show them that I am willing to do what is right because life has been unbearable and I could die from such cold.”

Nhlanhla Dlamini, 32, from Diepkloof, Zone 2

“I fell into a life of drugs because I thought I was cushioning my mind from life’s suffering, being brought up by a single mother and not knowing my father.

“I was shattered to see my mother struggle so much to bring the 10 of us siblings up. When she was still strong, she used to provide for us by doing recycling, but now that she is very old, she does not have the strength.

“I would be lying if I told you my nyaope addiction was a result of peer pressure or anything like that. I have just been living with the trauma of poverty, watching my mom struggle all these years. What kills me is that I cannot even help her because I do not have an identity document. My mother has one but she says all my documents burned when I was still young.

“The situation worsened last year when my youngest sister, who was in matric, passed away. That left my mother devastated because she had pinned her hopes on her.

“I need all sorts of help to rebuild my life, but first I need an ID as I do not live in the street yet. I only hang with these guys to try to forget what is happening at home. I am smoking these drugs now, but not out of choice.

“I just need an ID because my mother is old and sickly now. She is always sleeping and cannot help me much. 

“Why are the authorities so quiet about black communities’ devastation from nyaope addiction? We are talking about a significant number of mostly young addicts.” DM

As told to Bheki C. Simelane. Interviews have been edited for clarity.