365 Days of Activism

2010-05-16T12:58:00.004+02:00

Day 1: 25 November - ONE YEAR!!!!!!

2009-11-25T21:41:00.001+02:00

Wow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The 16 Days of Activism starts today! I cannot believe it has been a whole year!

Day 359: 17 November – It’s NEVER Okay to Kick a Woman! And IF You do, You Better Believe It’s MY Business

2009-11-17T14:01:00.000+02:00

I almost got into a fight last night. I usually steer away from them, and I am not the “violent type”. But last night I was very close to being that type. I guess being a week away from the 16 Days of Activism Against Violence Towards Women and Children made my experience even more intense. What happened you ask?

I saw a man KICK a woman, several times. She was crying, trying to escape, and pleading for him to stop. And this all happened right on a busy street of Claremont, but it was fairly late so the street was not all that busy; just me and a couple of kids, who live on the streets in the area, standing there chatting.

As soon as I saw the disturbing scene to started for the guy. One of the kids grabbed me and told me not to “worry about it”; this was mostly out of protection for me, and the kid not wanting to see me get into a potentially dangerous situation. I told him I must worry about it. He told me, “They are married. It’s their business. I just stay out of stuff like that.” I told him that I am not prone to minding my own business when I see a man kicking a woman, or a child for that matter. I started for the guy again. He stopped when he saw me heading his direction.

He is obviously more comfortable kicking around women than he is being confronted by a male because he made a quick getaway, avoiding a “conversation” with me. I returned to the kids. The one kid reemphasized his point that they are married, and I explained that being married does not give a man the right to kick a woman. He stressed another point that it was “their business”, and I said that if a man is kicking a woman in public then he makes it everyone’s business, but I would go as far to say if he kicks a woman in the privacy of his own home it should also be the concern and business of others.

Exactly one week away from the 16 Days of Activism this was an excellent reminder that the need to speak out against violence towards women and children far exceeds 16 days! And maybe people would argue saying that other people’s domestic problems are not anyone else’s business, but I firmly believe when good, law abiding citizens keep their mouths closed to injustice, they are not only allowing it to continue, but enabling it and making it easier for the perpetrators. 16 Days of lip service about abuse will not end abuse. We need 365 days of dedication, speaking AND acting against violence towards women and children.

It is NEVER, ever, EVER okay to kick a woman or a child! And you better believe if you do, then I will make it my business!

Day 353: 11 November – Absence Makes the Stories Grow Wilder

2009-11-12T16:14:00.000+02:00

I’ve felt like a real bum lately. As the 16 Days of Activism quickly comes upon us again, I look back on a year that feels like it flew by at warp speed. And in that year I can count on my two hands the number of times I have visited Wise Guy and the others who walked beside me during my 16 days on the streets last year. It’s shocking really. And of that handful of times I did visit Wise this year, many of them were merely quick “catch ups”, on the way to or from a meeting. It wasn’t intentional, and I don’t even know if I really realized it was happening. Though I would think about Wise Guy, everyone else, and the streets on a daily basis, I guess I kind of had this awareness in the back of my head that they were “there all the time”, and was always able to put off a visit to the next time; and the “next time” rarely rolled around.

This is a disturbing reality for me. I hate it! In the past few weeks I have spent a great deal of my mental energy asking myself questions and trying to dig deeper for reasons behind my seemingly unconscious decision to avoid the Cape Town streets. I know it wasn’t intentional, thought out, or even something I wanted! It just kind of happened. So my introspections have helped me narrow it down to three main reasons.

Firstly, I have let personal issues and struggles come in and take a good bit of “the fight” out of me. You know, in my early years in Cape Town, back when I would sometimes spend up to 18 hours a day on the streets and was there on a daily basis come rain or shine, people would always tell me that I was going to burn out. They said I worked too hard, gave too much, and didn’t give myself enough breaks. I never believed them. I never expected them to understand it either. And now, if those people are reading this they are probably about to raise their finger to say “I told you so!” because they think I am about to admit I am burnt out.

Well, I do feel burned out, but it’s not from over work. As a matter of fact, though I feel I have less of myself to give than ever before, when I do get a chance to do what others consider “my work”, it is actually refreshing. But on a personal level, for the past few years, I have been going through some stuff that has proved to be more challenging than the biggest, baddest gangster in Cape Town. And those challenges have seeped into each and every last aspect of my life, zapping me, draining me and leaving me with very little of my self to give, in a field where that is kind of my job. Those struggles took a knock at me; at my person, at my soul, at my fight, often leaving me feeling like a lethargic boxer in the 15th round of a grueling bout.

Second, I have tried to get involved in a new organization: a residential facility for young men ages 16 to 24. I say “tried” because even after an entire year of being “fulltime involved” I am still not all that sure what I am doing a lot of the time. Don’t get me wrong, the guys are great and I love my colleagues! I guess I am just not the “office social worker” type, and so sometimes trying to figure out my involvement within the walls of the home has felt as awkward as trying to force a wild lion to become a house pet. Also, from the years spent on the streets, I am just not all that used to structure, and working in an institution, and no matter how flexible and homey it is, it requires being willing to work in more structured times and ways. So this new “position”, which has felt more like an experiment much of the time, has also slotted in as my day-today; and because of my first excuse…COUGH…reason, I don’t feel that I have even given the organization and the guys the time and energy they deserve.

Third, I realized something pretty deep the other day. Last year’s 16 days on the streets were probably the best days of my entire life. That time was beyond a doubt the most incredible experience of my life. Sure, I was living on the streets and I don’t want to glorify that, but it was a chance to turn ten years of head knowledge into actual manifested experience; feelings, emotions, and first hand knowledge! I remember the night I had to leave the streets when my 16 Days came to a close. I cried all the way home…like a baby! And I think something shifted in me. I had spent time and been with people I had known for years, but those 16 days allowed me an opportunity to commune with my friends on the streets of Cape Town on the deepest level possible, and therefore anything less than that afterwards would be insufficient.

After that, walking around town with a full belly felt weird, saying “hi” to Wise Guy and then returning to my home felt strange, and being at home wondering “who was doing what?” in town made Cape Town feel farther away than it ever had before. I guess it would be like if McDonalds switched back to using processed chicken for their burgers, after their recent switch to whole breasts. I would never be able to enjoy a processed chicken burger again, and would long for the tender, wonderful taste of the whole chicken breast they “once served”. Yeah…or something like that.

I spoke to a friend today who told me she was speaking to a friend (complicated I know) who also works with the guys in town. She was telling me that he was telling her that the guys were telling him (yeah, sorry!) that they were angry with me and they were talking all sorts of things about me. This kind of behind-my-back talk would have surprised me years ago, but at this point, after my year-long absence, I am even talking bad about me, so it is understandable that they are doing the same. Hearing that only further validated the feeling I have had that I need to go visit the guys before I leave the country for a two month period…next week. I hung up the phone with my friend and tried to get some work done.

The only problem, I could not get anything done because all I could do was think about this information I had just received. I don’t like unresolved issues. Even though I had just returned home from a long day and had plenty of work to do, I decided to drive into town and speak to the guys. I had butterflies in my stomach the entire drive there. It felt like the dreaded walk to the principal’s office. I think a message must have also gone out for all of the slow drivers of Cape Town to get in front of me, because it felt like longest drive to the CBD in world history. I finally got there and saw Wise Guy first thing. He greeted me with an enormous smile. Shew! Slight relief. A smile is much better than knife!

“I hear you’ve been talking kak about me!”

Wise laughs at my comment and answers honestly, “Of course! I didn’t know where you were! And I was hearing all sorts of stories from all sorts of people!”

I laugh, “Well, I don’t blame you! I would talk bad about me too!”

He then went on to tell me that some random guy, who I don’t even know, told him that I “no longer work on the streets” and that I am “making a movie about the time I spent on the streets during the 16 Days of Activism”. The millions and millions of Rand I was making on this film were obviously implicit. Who is this joker? I assured him that if there was a movie being made he would be the first to know.

Relieved he said, “Well, I thought so but I hadn’t seen you so I was confused! I knew you told me about the Manenberg movie but I didn’t know anything about that one.”

I reassured him, once again, that he would be one of the first to know if I was indeed making a movie about that time. I also told him about the deal I did just sign for the “Manenberg one”. He seemed happy and proud of me. I was again reminded at how absence without explanation leaves room for others to make up stories and reasons for your absence, most especially on the streets. He told me he would often sit and wonder “what happened to keep Ryan away?” and then he followed it up by saying sometimes he would sit with a newspaper, and though people thought he was reading, at times he was really just thinking about me, our time together during the 16 days, my absence, and what on earth I could be doing. I felt like a pretty big piece of dog poop at that point.

We spoke for a while. Others came, greeted, spoke and went. Wise expressed how happy he was that I had visited. I expressed how sorry I was for staying away, and also gave him my three point theory as to why. He was understanding. We spoke about how time had flown by and how the 16 Days of Activism is just around the corner. I told him I was not even going to be here for the 16 Days this year because I am travelling over seas. Just as I was about to leave he asked me, “Hey Ryan, do you have anymore of those 365 Days of Activism shirts?” I remembered that in fact I did have one stray; a shirt I was supposed to give to someone but I could never remember who, so I just kept it knowing as soon as I gave it away I would remember the rightful recipient. I told Wise Guy about it.

“Well, you think you could bring it for me? I’d really like to wear it this year for the 16 Days, in remembrance of our time on the streets last year.”

If it is possible for a heart to melt from warmth, I think mine did at that moment!

“Of course. I think that’d be great!”

We smiled, did the manly-hug-kind-of-thing, said our goodbyes and I drove home, feeling much more at peace, trying hard to hold back tears.

Day 316: 5 October – Monday Morning Nostalgia

2009-10-05T08:53:00.000+02:00

I woke up this morning feeling sad. It took me a while to figure out why, and I still don’t know the fullness, but I realised Eric was on my mind. I probably had a dream about him that I do not remember. Eric was one of the first kids I met living on the streets of the Claremont area when I first moved to Cape Town back in 2000. We had become close. He was also the first kid, of now many, that I knew who passed away, in 2001.

He was such a lively kid; full of joy, life, fun, continuous laughter. It is always sad to lose someone who is dear to you, but what made Eric’s loss even harder was the fact that his death was a “freak accident” in a drop-in centre that was new at the time, and in self preservation the leaders of the shelter kept Eric’s death on a very low level.

I miss Eric, and others like him who have died tragic deaths here on the streets of Cape Town. Even when I look into the eyes of the living, the older guys that were the younger guys when i first moved here, I feel the same sense of loss that I feel when I think about Eric. Because though they may be living, the lively children I once knew are very far gone, and their eyes tell the story of having seen too much, too fast, for way too long.

And above and beyond Eric, others who have passed away, and the guys that have grown up too fast, I think this morning I woke up mourning the death of parts of myself. I look back on my early years here and see such a different person. I have changed a lot; for the good and bad, and I am pretty in touch with both sides. But on a nostalgic-driven monday morning like today, I wish I could travel back in time, just for a visit, and say “what’s up” to Eric, all the others I have lost, the kids that are now “all grown up”, and my ten-years-younger self.

Day 282: 1 September - Two Worlds

2009-09-01T13:57:00.003+02:00

Today I was on my way to one of the projects I work at, walking back from lunch.

A young man, carrying a black plastic bag of clanking glass, and another plastic bag of unknown items, walked up beside me. He was dirty, beyond the usual "unkept dirty"; dirt was literally caked on his face. His long nails had thick black dirt under them, his clothes look like they had been on and not washed for months, he smelled like a mixture of body odor, horse and mildew, and he had the look of desperation.

I didn't recognize him as he walked beside me and asked me for five rand. I said I do not have five rand. He asked me for any change I may have. I told him I had none. He asked for a cigarette. I told him I don't smoke. He gave up his efforts to try and get something from me and surrendered to small talk.

"You go to the soup kitchen much anymore?"

His question made me look at him properly. He recognized me from my 16 day time on the streets, more than 26o days ago. His question was nonjudgmental, in the sense that he did not look at how I am dressed now, and how I was then, and base a conclusion of why I would or wouldn't go to a soup kitchen on those judgments.

I felt embarrassed for not having paid more attention to him in the first place.

"Nah, I haven't been there in a long time."

He quickly said he also doesn't make it there much anymore. He said he was on his way to change those glass bottles because he was starving and he hadn't eaten all day. And then it hit me. When he approached me, I thought he just saw me as a "whitey", or a guy to "get something from", but he had seen me as a "comrade", someone who had eaten meals with him at the soup kitchen, someone who had to scrape to get by, a fellow "survivor". We continued to walk and spoke until we went our separate ways.

That short, seemingly insignificant, interaction caused me to think about things.

About what a different life it is to literally have to hustle, scrape, beg, and search for basic survival. How the place we are in in life is relative and also a matter of perspective, not only of self but of others. How we as humans can adapt to pretty much any situation and become comfortable in that. Today, this was the thought that was the most revealing, devastating and wonderful for me. I am again comfortable in not having to scrape for very basic survival, and that world, which I lived in for a brief moment in time, seems again very foreign and far off to me.

Day 271: 21 August - Nothing for the Cock

2009-08-21T18:18:00.000+02:00

I was driving today, and just thinking.

It all kind of started when I pulled up to a red light and stopped. It seems red lights have been used a lot in my life lately to provoke thought. So there is this older man who stands and begs at that red light every day. I mean, e v e r y, s i n g l e, d a y!

Though he is a little bit kooky, he does not seem to be an alcoholic or drug addict; the fear many people have of beggars. Nope, this man just seems to be your average, semi deranged, but usually friendly old man.

He strolled up to my window and held his funny looking, clear-yellow-tinted-plastic cup, looking something like a cup one would be given for a urine sample, in my face.

“Nothing for the cock?!”

“Cock” being an old British word, used as a “term of informal address to a man”.

I smiled at him and did the awkward, sideways-nod-and-wink maneuver, to say “No, I have nothing for the cock today, apart from this smile and wink”. Though I know the Cock is familiar with the response-to-beggars protocol and sign language, his request did not stop there.

“Young man, no small change to get me in the night shelter tonight?”

I said, “No, sorry sir. Not today.”

“Nothing? Ok, young man.” He then looked up to the bus driver, sitting next to me at traffic and pointed at me, “What you didn’t know is he is the piano man!”, playing an invisible piano located on top of my car as he walked to the next vehicle.

Though I am getting a bit sidetracked in the minor details of the story, it was at that moment, pulling away from the intersection, that the self proclaimed Cock got my mind a working. I mean, he is there every day. Some days he seems a little irritable, but for the most part, he is pretty friendly, and carries on conversation, even if it doesn’t always make sense. He is not one of those hostile beggars that shouts and raves and goes on if you do not want to give something.

But he is out there every day, in the same place, trying to get money just to live in the night shelter. He stands all day and tries to get money just for basic needs, basic survival. It made me wonder if the Cock enjoys being out there at that intersection every day, or if it is a task he finds no joy in. If standing out there is just a means to an end, and nothing more.

Like a miserable man, in an uncomfortable suite, sitting from nine to five in a small office cubical, hating every second that goes by.

Then my mind just went.

Some people work, and hard, their whole lives, at jobs they do not really enjoy, just for basic survival. Their lives become one big means to an end, until THE end. I started to wonder how many people in the world are so busy working hard to survive that they don’t really ever get a chance just to “live”. I think about where I come from, where the emphasis on success is based on how hard you work, how much education you get, how much “stuff” you acquire, and so on.

People spend the first 18 years of their lives getting educations they might not really enjoy, just to continue on and do 2 to 12 more years of education they may or may not enjoy, just to continue on to work a job they may not enjoy, the rest of their lives, for stuff; and some not even for “stuff”, but only for basic survival.

Some people seem to live to work. Others work to live. But I wonder how much “living” actually goes on.

On any given day…

What is the ratio of moments enjoyed to moments not enjoyed?

How often do we laugh?

Do we take time to really taste the food we eat? I mean, really TASTE it; not just swallow it.

Do we take pleasure in the sights that surround us each and every day?

Do we enjoy each others’ company?

Are we here to merely survive? Or are we here for a much greater purpose?

Some may say, “We can’t all go off and have fun everyday! Someone has to do the work around here!” And though that may be true in some way, I guess I just wish that every “someone” would find that “something” that really makes them feel alive. And that “something” would be connected to their livelihood, and therefore they are allowed to truly LIVE and not just “get by”, in a way that the means is just as fun and important as the end.

I don’t know about the Cock. I don’t know about you. I am evaluating my own life.

Day 268: 18 August - Fear Monster

2009-08-18T15:03:00.001+02:00

I just thought of something today. I am most definitely sure it is not the first time this has been thought of by someone, in the every same way I thought of it. I am also sure it has been expressed many more eloquent ways than I am capable of. But it struck me all the same, and I want to share it. I realized something.

Fear is like a pet monster.

We all have different levels of fear, about different things in life. Some fear rejection, others fear acceptance. Some fear public speaking, others fear solitude. Some fear “the other”, others fear self. Some fear the exposure of things in the light, others fear the darkness.

Some of our fears are valid, and experience based, others are irrational uncertainties we have allowed to spiral out of control.

But no matter what the fear is, as long as we entertain it, we are giving it a place of residence. That fear becomes our very own pet fear monster. And like any pet, the fear monster thrives, or dies based on our maintenance of it. And this maintenance of that pet fear monster, its means of survival or extinction, comes out of how we engage with the object of our fear.

Surely denial of fear, along with avoidance of the object of the fear, only gives nourishment to the fear monster. It eats it up, grows, becomes more powerful, acts more rabidly, and becomes less and less easy to contain. Our fear monster becomes like a raging Rottweiler, foaming at the mouth, barking behind the fence, scaring those who pass by. After a while, even us as the pet owners lose control, and that fear monster literally eats us up alive!

But maybe that fear monster should not be seen as a pet at all. Maybe more of a pest; like a disgusting rat that managed to burrow its way into the walls of our house, only taking from us, spreading disease, and giving nothing positive in return. But depending on the size of the fear monster, mere once off poison will most likely not do the trick to rid our lives of this vermin. We have to work more long term.

We have to stop feeding it, and cease giving it the nutrition it needs to survive. We have to starve it.

Without doubt, this is a process of challenging it, engaging the object of fear, putting our self in a place to confront it and even be beaten by it at times, to stand back up to it again and again, over and over again, and then a bit more.

The fear monster will starve, be malnourished, a bony being with no meat, weak, feeble, delicate and tired. The fear monster will have no strength to stand and absolutely be powerless over us.

But we have to determine whether our fear monster is a pet, or an unwanted visitor. And depending on the answer to that, we need to treat it accordingly.

2009-07-31T10:10:00.000+02:00

patience helps you give others permission to be human. it understands that everyone fails. when a mistake is made, it chooses to give them more time than they deserve to correct it. it gives you the ability to hold on during the tough times in your relationship rather than bailing out under the pressure.

Day 163: 5 May - True Activism

2009-05-05T21:11:00.003+02:00

I think true activism is birthed from the connection of two parents...

a deep, unconditional love for someone, a group or something

and

a deep, unconditional hatred for anything that threatens the existence or well being of that person, group or thing.

Day 157: 29 April - Humanity is Refreshing

2009-04-29T10:21:00.000+02:00

It has been way too long since I last wrote and I am terribly sorry for that! No excuses!

Much of my time is spent trying to convince people to act on injustices they see around them instead of merely accepting those injustices as reality. Sometimes when I am speaking with people I can tell they want to “right the wrongs” but just don’t know how; others go through the motions of nodding their heads, but I can see on their faces that they are fortunate enough to be unaffected by the injustice, and will happily continue to allow it to cause misery for others, as long as it does not begin to impose on their way of life. One of my biggest “battles” of this nature has been with the pedophiles that prey on the children living on the streets of Cape Town.

I do think the average citizen feels disgust and disdain about these happenings, but I have rarely seen that emotion turn into public action. I personally have worked with all different forms of police units and “protectors of the public” to see justice be served, but due to the complexity of the situation, formerly weak policy (now changed and still evolving), the fact that “they are only street kids” (in the words of National Intelligence years ago), and other complications, children on the streets of Cape Town are the most vulnerable and easily accessible group of sexual prey for pedophiles.

This morning however, I was refreshed by humanity. I checked my Facebook and I had a message from a person that I am not “friends” with, and have never met before, neither on Facebook or in real life. She said she had seen me on one of the Special Assignment episodes done about pedophilia amongst street children and she wrote hoping I was the “right guy”. She then told me about an event that happened Monday night on Long Street.

She was driving around the corner of a dark, back street, just off Long, when she saw an old white man calling two children to get into his car. The way the man was behaving let her know that he was a pedophile. She told me that she immediately drove towards him and blocked him in. She wrote down his number plate, the make and model of his car, and she said she would have done more but she had her friend’s child in the backseat of her own car and did not want to put him at risk. She contacted me and is going to take matters further, whatever that looks like.

I am thankful for people like this lady who are willing to act when they see injustice! I am so thankful she made contact with me, to take matters forward, but also reaffirming something in me that I already knew but sometimes forget: basic acts of humanity can be so refreshing! What a way to start the day!

Day 94: 26 February - Let’s Make a Movie!!!!

2009-02-26T20:29:00.003+02:00

I know I have been quiet for a while, and I am sorry for that! Things have just been busy! But a good kind of busy. I am trying to get the word out, in as many ways as possible, that it is child abuse to allow children to live on the streets. A while back I wrote a book called Life Under the Table about my experiences (from the first few years of living in Cape Town) in working with the kids. I have posted it as a blog, for those of you that would like to read it just click on the title. While writing that book I was struck with a harsh conclusion: many stories I would like to tell would not fully be “understood” unless the reader has walked a long road with the individual. So if I told stories of hectic crime or drug abuse that the children partake in, I fear the reader might tend to feel negative feelings about the children, without truly understanding the fullness of the situation and reality with which they live. To remedy that, I decided to write a fictional series, based on a mixture of real experiences of real children, combined with my own imagination and story telling liberties.

The idea for the series is to focus on one “character”, tell the story from his point of view (taking him from his community to the streets to wherever his path takes him), and allow the reader to build a relationship with him, so that when he begins to participate in “questionable” behavior of street life, the reader is on “his side”. I have finished the first book of the series (though I have not approached publishers yet) and am working on the second. As I was writing the first book, which I titled Out of Manenberg, I often pictured it as a movie and dreamed about seeing it one day manifest itself in “film” form. I want to make a proper, great quality, feature length film of Out of Manenberg, and though I realize this is extremely ambitious, I know that dreams have to start somewhere. So I have decided to pursue this dream with a little more aggression and I am trying to raise funds to actually MAKE the movie! I have a very talented director friend who is excited and willing to work on the project. All we need is money.

I am trying to raise 1 Million Dollars, which sounds like tons of money but for a feature length film it is merely a drop in the bucket. I started a group on face book “I hope to find 1 million people willing to give 1 dollar each, to make a movie” and I opened a Pay Pal account so that people can give. If you are interested in giving you can click on the “donate” button on the right hand side of your screen or click here. If you want to give but do not wish to use Pay Pal feel free to contact me at capetownbrown@gmail.com. It only takes 1 dollar to become an executive producer of this film! Please help spread the word, even if you can’t give 1 dollar you can help by telling all your friends! As a little incentive, here is the first chapter of the book:

OUT OF MANENBERG - Chapter 1: Learning To Survive

I can’t sleep. Its nights like these where I lay and think. All of my shattered dreams, aspirations, and hopes, of what I could have done, of what I could have been, swirl around in my head like a raging storm. I lay here on this thin mattress with nothing to drown out my loud thoughts except for deafening silence and the sound of rats scratching around the prison floor. Yeah, I have had a rough life, but I truly have no one to blame but myself for the place I am in now. I had an opportunity to make it out of my life, that was destined to go nowhere, and then because of one stupid choice, I threw it all away. I will spend the rest of my life behind these walls, encaged within these bars. How did I get here? There’s no simple answer, but the best place to start is the beginning.

I was born in 1987 in Manenberg, a suburb of Cape Town that has a reputation for violence and gangsterism. I never knew my father, but from what I hear about him, I don’t really care to ever meet him. He lives far away or is dead by now. I don’t really care. I have three brothers and two sisters, all except for two are from different men. I am the oldest. My mom was as loving as she knew how to be. She also didn’t know her father. That’s because her mom was raped by a white police officer. She grew up during a hard time and the white people made it difficult for her to succeed. She had no education and she would try and drink away her problems with alcohol. She didn’t have a job but we never seemed to struggle too much for our basic needs. Well, that is if you consider water, sometimes food and shelter basic needs. Our neighbors would always give us rice and bread when we needed it.

I have always been a natural leader. I am small, but I learned how to use my mouth at a young age. I got into my fare share of trouble because of my mouth, but I also learned how to use it as a deadly weapon, when need be. I have also been in my fair share of fights, and though I am small, I am pretty tough. I remember my first fight. I was seven, and my brother, the second oldest, Andre was four. He came home one day screaming and blood was streaming down his face. Mom had sent him to the store to buy her a cigarette and on the way Melvin, one of the known troublemakers of our area, tried to take his money. Melvin was a thirteen-year-old bully and he got away with it because his older brother was one of the big shots in one of the prominent gangs in our area, the Hard Livings. When Melvin tried to take the money from Andre, my brother knew that the beating he would get from Melvin would not be nearly as bad as the one he would get from my mom if he returned home with no cigarette and no money, so he stood up to him. Melvin hit Andre so hard that he fell and busted his head open on the ground. Then Melvin sat on Andre and took the money from him.

I listened, as Andre stood there crying and bleeding all over the floor. After I had gotten the facts straight, I decided to go settle things with Melvin. No one messes with my little brother. I felt my heart pounding in my chest as I ran to confront Melvin. By the time I got to the shop, Melvin was standing there, smoking the cigarette that was supposed to be my mom’s and he was laughing and telling the story of how he had gotten it, to a group of about five of his friends. I felt a warm sensation all over my body and it felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest. Melvin was twice my size and known for his fighting abilities.

I picked up a brick that was lying on the ground and started for him. Before he knew it, I had jumped up onto him and I hit him on the forehead with the brick. As he fell to the ground, I landed on top of him. The brick fell out of my hands and bounced as it hit the ground. My arms went numb as I punched him in the face over and over again. I could feel my knuckles being shredded by his teeth but I could not stop myself. I had never felt that kind of rage before. His friends stood there in shock, not really knowing what to do. When I saw that he was unconscious, I stopped. There I sat, on top of bloody, unconscious Melvin, with a group of kids standing there in absolute shock. I slowly stood up and picked the brick back up, in case some of his friends got any bright ideas. I looked at them and I could tell that I had a wild look in my eyes that scared them; a look of a wild animal on the prowl, ready to devour his next prey. They all just stood there like statues. I announced, “You tell Melvin, when he wakes up, that if he EVER touches my brother again, I will finish what I started.” Pretty big words for a seven year old! But I had heard the older gangsters in our block of flats say things like that before.

Then I remembered my mom’s cigarette and I searched Melvin’s pocket and found a whole rand. I went into the shop and bought the cigarette for my mom and two sweets, one for me and one for Andre. I walked proudly back to my house. I felt a sense of power that I had never felt before. I felt like I ruled the neighborhood. I felt like I could take on a whole army if I had to. When I got back to my house, I gave my mom her cigarette and I gave Andre his sweet and I sat down and told him the whole story.

Fighting was a necessity in my neighborhood. Those who couldn’t fight for themselves, had to walk around with those who could both fight for them and for themselves. The gangs ruled the area and they preyed on the young boys. They recruited from a very young age. If you didn’t join a gang, you were in danger. At least if you were in a gang, you would only have the threat of the rival gang and the protection of your own along with it. If you were not in one, you would have to watch your back all the time for all of them. I hated them. I decided from a young age that I was never going to join a gang.

Andre’s dad was a gangster. He lived with us around that same time. The hatred that I had for that man is not describable with words. Every night, he would sit with his friends, in our kitchen, and smoke buttons until he could barely talk right. I hated him even more when he was in that state. He was an evil man most of the time, but when he was dik geroek , he would put the devil himself to shame. Sometimes he would even pass out right there on the floor. I preferred it when he would just kap om , which was only every now and then, because the other times, which was basically every night, he would end up beating my mom and then he would turn his attention on Andre. He hated Andre and always talked about how he was a “mistake”. He beat every bit of dignity and self-respect that was left in my mom, right out of her.

I remember her from a real young age. Even though it seems I was too young to remember things like that, I can still picture her beautiful face in my mind! I thought she was the most beautiful lady that had ever walked on the face of this earth. She was young, at the ripe age of 19, when I was born. When I was three she got with Andre’s dad and then everything went down hill from there. Their relationship was never that good but he only started really beating her like that when he found out she was pregnant with Andre. He blamed her for getting pregnant and some nights he would make her drink and drink to a dangerous point, to try and abort the baby. Some nights he would beat her and even hit and kick her on her stomach. I was young, and I would just sit there on the floor crying, but those pictures are still engraved in my mind.

When Andre was born, it got even worse. He beat my mom on a nightly basis. By the time Andre was three and I was six, my mom looked like a totally different person to the beautiful young lady that I once remembered. The beatings had added years onto her and she looked like a forty-year-old lady. She had also lost sight in her left eye from one of the more vicious beatings. Her eye was white and cloudy. Her skin was worn and looked like leather and her lips were always swollen. It broke my heart to even look at her because I loved my mom more than anyone else in the world. When I was eight years old, I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I came in from playing with friends one night and I found my mom, bleeding and unconscious, on the floor. Then I heard Andre screaming in the back room and I could hear his dad beating him and telling him to shut his mouth. His words slurred together, as they often did when he was dik geroek.

I felt that same feeling that I did in that first fight with Melvin. By then I had gotten used to it because I had been in many more fights over the years. I picked up a screwdriver that was laying in the kitchen and I ran back to the back room. I stopped in the doorway and saw the bastard standing over Andre with his belt in his hands. Andre was curled up on the floor and was crying and pleading for him to stop. “Jou ma se poes kind! Jy’s net soos jou ma!” He continued to hit Andre, with the buckle part of the belt. I could not take it anymore. I felt a rush of rage and then everything turned black. I jumped on his back and stuck the screwdriver into the back of his neck and he immediately fell to the ground. He fell on top of my leg and I had to pull it out from under him to stand up. I went over to Andre and helped him sit up.

His eyes were swollen shut from the beatings and he was bleeding all over. I held him and told him that everything was going to be alright. My heart felt like it was ripped into a hundred pieces. I loved my brother more than anything or anyone else in the world, apart from my mom, and it killed me to see him like that. I started to cry and I sobbed like never before. We just sat there on the floor and I held Andre until he fell asleep in my arms. I was in shock and I just sat there, shaking, crying and I held Andre tight until I eventually fell asleep. I was awoken by a loud blood-curdling scream the next morning. My mom had woken up and came into the room and saw her man laying on the floor in a puddle of dried blood with a screw driver sticking out of the back of his neck. She picked me up and started shaking me, screaming, “What have you done?! What have you done?!” I searched deep within for words, but nothing came out.

She collapsed to the ground and held me tight in her arms and began to sob. I could see that she wasn’t crying because she was sad, but because she was actually relieved. Andre woke up and came over and we all sat there on the floor for hours. Time passed by slowly and we all just sat there and didn’t say a word. Looking back, strangely enough, that was the best time I ever spent with my mom. For the first time ever…maybe the only time…we felt like a real family. We sat there until the night and my mom finally went out to a friend’s house. A little bit later she returned with some men and they took away the body and we never heard anything about it again. The police didn’t get involved and there wasn’t even a funeral. Of course the word got out in the neighborhood, that I had killed a man, which only helped my reputation amongst the kids.

I had killed someone. I felt no remorse, no grief, but that wasn’t the thing that scared me. What really scared me was that I knew if I were put in the same situation again, I would do it over again. I had to protect my mom and my brother. They were all I had.

Day 87: 19 February - FACT

2009-02-19T14:27:00.002+02:00

No child should ever EVER be allowed to live on the streets for any reason what so ever, exclamation point!

Day 77: 9 February - Unfair Truths Continue

2009-02-09T22:37:00.003+02:00

I woke up earlier than usual this morning in order to meet Lee’s new found “guardian” to pick her up and take her to the school that Lee attended last year (the school where I teach). I wouldn’t have forgotten my promise to “help” because Lee had been on my mind the entire weekend after our meeting on Friday, but had I forgotten about my engagement with his “auntie” this morning, I would have been reminded by her call last night, “making sure we were still on”, and then her call again this morning, “just wanting to make sure that I was still coming”. This was encouraging to me. I could feel her sense of urgency and genuine concern for Lee. When I arrived at her house she was eagerly waiting for me. We drove to the school.

When we arrived at the school the principal was busy in a meeting and so we were informed by the secretary we would have to wait about thirty minutes for him. Lee’s auntie did not seem phased by this. In the meantime, I took her into the secretary’s office and introduced them to each other. Lee’s auntie then sat down in the chair across from the secretary’s desk and began to spill out her story with a gush of emotion. I just sat there and watched as she explained to the secretary how when her daughter had first brought Lee to her house and asked if he could stay with them, she immediately rejected the request without blinking. She said that Lee began to cry and ran off, and her daughter chased after him, probably making some teenage-like comment to her mother as she ran away, chasing after Lee.

Lee’s auntie’s eyes began to fill up with tears. “Then it became late, and my daughter had still not returned home so I went up to main road to look for her... where she said Lee had been staying…” The dam blocking her tear filled eyes broke and tears began to stream down her face, “When I got up to main road I saw her standing beside an old broken down BMW. I walked up to it and looked inside and saw Lee. He had his shirt pulled over his knees and was curled up in a ball. My daughter said, ‘Look where he is living mom!’ and it was at that moment that I realized I could not allow a child to live in that situation, even if he was not my own child.” Her tears streamed down heavier as she told the rest of the story of how she took in Lee, how his drunk grandmother had visited her house and the only interest she showed in Lee was to swear at him profusely and then left again, and how she wanted so badly for him to get back in school. My heart broke for her.

Before long the principal got out of his meeting and we met with him in his office. Lee’s auntie had hoped he would change his mind about refusing to enroll Lee at his school, but he did not. He explained that he has a whole school of students to think about and teachers that would be very unhappy at Lee’s return to school. But he did show a true concern about Lee and said that he wanted to help in any way he could to get Lee placed in another school. I felt caught in the middle because I fully understood his side and reasoning for not wanting to take Lee back, but I could also see the heartbreak in the Auntie because she has seen a “new Lee” and was not as familiar with the one that the principal and I spoke of in that meeting. I could see the Principal’s frustration with the “system” as he explained that he has been having literal nightmares about this situation.

He asked if there was nothing that could be done in holding Lee’s parents accountable. He asked it, knowing the answer: it would be a long road with social services that would probably be in vain. The Auntie also informed us that the new school had said they would only take Lee based on his report from last year. I knew that his report was far from something they would accept. I asked the Principal what the possibility was of the new school accepting him in order to do grade five over again. The principal informed me that last year was, in fact, Lee's second time to do grade five and they are forced to push up a student, no matter what, if they are more than two years behind the grade they are supposed to be in. That is when I once again noticed how policies are failing our children and are also not being holistically implemented on the ground level.

Though this “push them up” rule is true, and occurs way too frequently, often producing children in high school who are completely illiterate, I also know that the South African School Act of 1996 states that a parent that does not see that his or her child is going to school can be prosecuted. I can see how the latter policy could come in handy in meeting the principal’s request to “hold the parents” accountable, but I know the reality of the situation is that would never happen. So we all walked out of the meeting not feeling much more positive about the situation. The principal remains haunted by the fact that he is caught between what is “right” for his other students and for his staff, and what is “right” for Lee, Lee’s auntie feels disempowered to help this child that she has now taken into her care and cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel, and I can’t help but feel a little apathetic. Because I know the system, I have seen it mess many-a-kid over, and I can see where this story is headed. However, Lee’s life cannot be changed by apathy, and I will continue to hope, and do whatever I can to try and see positive change come in his life. He deserves a break!

Day 74: 6 February - Unfair Truths

2009-02-06T16:16:00.002+02:00

My heart hurts. That sounds pretty dramatic but it is the best way to describe how I feel today after spending time with a twelve year old boy who I will call Lee (not his real name). For those of you that don’t know, apart from the work I do with the children living on the streets, I also teach Life Orientation in a grade six class of a small school in Woodstock (an immediate suburb of Cape Town CBD). Over the few years that I have been involved in the school I have also done individual counseling and work with specific students that are highlighted by the teachers as “problematic” or “troubled”. That is how I met Lee.

Last year the school was having a number of problems with Lee. He absconded quite often and when he was at school he was unruly and acted out the majority of the time. He had a short temper and would explode at the slightest provocation of a teacher or another student. He would frequently become aggressive and vulgar with other students, yet seemed to have leadership qualities that would cause other students to follow him, mostly in defiant behavior. The school asked me to meet with Lee and try and “get to him”. Unfortunately, I only got to meet with him, formally, one or two times because I go in on Mondays and that seemed to be his “day off”. But I did study up on his case and would occasionally get to casually speak to him out on the playground.

Lee was born to a single mother. His dad is currently in jail, and I believe is involved in gangster activities. When Lee was about three years old his mother decided she wanted “nothing to do with him”, a convenient form of post-contraception that is all too common in the world today. His grandmother grudgingly took him in, but it was apparently clear from the beginning that she resented having to do so because he was merely a “distraction” to her partying way of life. She has a boyfriend that is mean to Lee, and she blames Lee for any argument that her boyfriend starts with him. They both drink heavily and are abusive to Lee. So last year seeing that little eleven year old boy, so full of anger, hurt and pain, feeling like nobody “wants” him, it was no wonder to me as to why he acted out in the way he did.

This year the school decided that they could not afford to take him because of his negative influence on other students. This Monday the principal spoke with me about Lee and said that he is losing sleep thinking about him. He has had many people approach him who have seen Lee in Woodstock and they report back all sorts of negative stories and situations they have seen Lee in. The principal does not have any contact details for Lee but has heard that he is not living with his grandmother anymore. He asked me to see if I saw him and try and speak to him and find out “where he is at”. So when I saw Lee sitting on main road Woodstock today I nearly slammed on my breaks, did a u-turn and went to speak to him.

Lee seemed excited to see me as I walked up to him. I sat and chatted with him for a while and he explained that he is having trouble getting transferred to a new school because the old school has not given his release papers to him. I asked him about where he is staying now and he told me he was staying with his auntie. I asked if I could go with him to visit her and he seemed eager to the possibility and so we began walking to her house. On the way there he told me, “She is not my real auntie. She is just looking after me and lets me stay with her. She will tell you about it.” We walked down into the “rougher” part of Woodstock, near Gympie Street (for those of you that are familiar with Woodstock) and approached a dilapidated house. He told me he would call her and entered into the house. A few minutes later out came a lady who warmly invited me in.

At first glance, she looked like a character out of a movie. I know it is not good to judge a book by its cover, but if I were casting for a movie and needed someone to play a “tough gangster prostitute”, she would have the part. She is as thin as a skeleton, full of tattoos, has a complete set of gold teeth, and was wielding a knife as she walked to the door. She even had some word tattooed on her knuckles, which you don’t see all that often on females. She immediately noticed and admired my body art and I realized that my tattoos in those situations have stronger credibility than my social work degree from U.C.T. After asking me about my tattoo artist she began by saying, “I will just be honest, I used to deal drugs but I am not involved with that anymore.”

She told me that her daughter, who was sitting on the other side of the room, had met Lee in Woodstock and noticed that he was sleeping in a broken down car, because his grandmother couldn’t “handle him anymore”. She felt pity for him and took him in. She told me about how she treats him as one of her own and about her efforts of trying to get him in another school and even how she had already bought him school clothes. I could see that though this might not be the most ideal of living situations for Lee, at least someone showed interest in him and care for him, and he seemed to be eating it up. Besides, it is definitely a step up from living alone in a broken down car, at the age of twelve. I informed the auntie that I would speak to the principal and would help them get Lee back in school. She was thrilled. After our chat with “his auntie” Lee walked me back to my car.

On the way he told me about a case that he now has against him for stabbing another youngster. As he spoke I could see the fear, hurt, pain, and heart ache in his eyes; not just about the court case, but about everything: his entire life. Before I left, I put my hand on his shoulder and looked him deep in the eyes and said, “I know it is not easy! But you have to understand, whatever your mother and grandmother have done or are doing, really and truly has nothing to do with you! No matter what they say! You are just a kid and you should not have to live through the things that you have and they are supposed to look after and care for you no matter what! It is not your fault, and I understand why you act out in school the way you do, but it also doesn’t excuse it. You have the choice to use these things that you have been through as an excuse to go on in the way you are now, or you can decide to walk a different path, and prove everybody wrong! I believe in you and I think you are a great kid, and I want to try and support you in whatever way I can. Do you understand?”

He looked at me with tears welling up in his eyes and nodded his head yes. He was trying hard not to show emotion because it is not beneficial to do so in that part of main road Woodstock. But I could see that he heard me and my words were sinking into his heart. It is so sad to see a kid that literally has no one in the world that is on his side. His own family does not want anything to do with him, and that is no secret to him or anyone else. When I look at him I just see a little hurting kid that just wants to be loved and merely have a place where he belongs. Unfortunately, in that part of Woodstock there are plenty of places to find belonging but majority of them are unsuitable places for a kid to "belong". In that particular part of Woodstock, for every one person there is that is willing to take in a kid like Lee for all the “right” reasons, there are at least fifty more that are willing to take him in for all the wrong reasons. Lee is just another example to me of a kid that is in a situation, out of his control and yet totally unfair!

Day 70: 2 February - Snap Shot

2009-02-02T15:42:00.000+02:00

People are probably sick and tired of hearing my "reasons" as to why it is inappropriate for children to be allowed to live on the streets! Well, i actually don't care!! I am sick and tired of children being allowed to live on the streets. Today i just had a simple yet eerie reminder of how vulnerable children living on the streets are to all types of things; especially when it comes to tourists. These children are in the public eye. They are always there. They are easily accessible. Adults use them for all types of things, and because these children need money most of the time, they have become accustomed to doing these "all types of things". They are probably the most accessible yet vulnerable members of society. This is commonly known by tourists, and members of the public, and they use it for their advantage.

So what happened today was really all that big of a deal. It was just more of a reminder of what i just spoke about; that these children are vulnerable and easily accessible to all types of people that "make use" of them for all types of things. I was online and i was googling information about "street children". On a bit of a side note, i visited India in early 2000 for three months, and made friends with many children living on the streets of different cities I visited. One place where i made many little friends was Calcutta, and specifically with the children living on Sudder Street (a very touristy area). So today when i was googling information about "street children", i decided to narrow my search to "street children sudder street". I did a google image search. There were a few pictures of Sudder Street but no kids that i recognized and so i decided to try narrowing it a bit more and adding in a child's name that i remembered. I went with Israel, one of the kids i became closer with, and mostly because it was easy to spell.

"street children Sudder Street Israel". To my surprise, the first two pictures that came up were actual pictures of the kid that i had hung out with over nine years ago! One picture he was by himself, smiling, and leaning up against a taxi. In the other picture he was with a group of other kids i remembered. They were just pictures in someones flicker photo bucket. Probably someone like me who made friends with the kid and took their pictures. It is really not all that big of a deal i guess, but it left me with kind of an eerie feeling. I mean, the pictures were not inappropriate in any way, and the children looked happy. But looking at it from another angle, if you were just a suburban parent, and you went to google image and you googled your child's name, and pictures actually came up that you were not aware of, wouldn't it sit a little funny with you? Ok, i think i might be blowing this a little out of proportion because Israel is not my kid, and i don't even know that he doesn't know that his picture is online. Maybe he does. But whether i am overreacting or not it was a reminder for me as to how accessible and vulnerable these children are and just how many people have access to them!

I specifically remember having a long conversation one day with that very kid about how many of the young boys on Sudder Street have sex with foreigners for money. I remember being gutted as i was sitting there listening to that 12 year old (approximately at the time) tell me about these things, and not shying away from including himself. So seeing that picture of him online, looking about the same age as when i met him, just made me sit and think about where he might be now, nine years later. How old he must be, how hardened he might be, how much he has been subjected to, and how many people he has had contact with that have used him, exploited him and abused him for their own pleasure or purposes. This is just one example of one kid. I just thought i would share my experience with you.

There's more to education than 1-2-3

2009-02-01T03:13:00.000+02:00

I'm a teacher. I get paid to teach. My children must pass their "tests" or I'm not doing my job. They must reach their benchmarks or I've failed. I must make sure they know their math facts or I've caused them to miss a major building block for future grades. Their education rests on my shoulders along with their future success.

But....I stop in the middle of a lesson so the class can make "get well" cards for someone's grandmother who is having surgery; I take my lunch time to sit with a small boy in my lap who needs to cry because his mom died 2 weeks ago, and later I "beg" my colleagues for any extra money so that I can get a headstone for the same little boy to put on his Mama's grave; I skip math facts drill so that Joe can show the class the pictures of his new little brother; I use 5 minutes of silent reading time so that Ali, the shyest child in the class, can recite a poem she wrote; I go to the store duirng planning time to get some new clothes for Autumn who never has nice things and who doesn't smell too fresh because she's still wearing winter clothes and it's 90 degrees; I find a dentist who will donate his time to put top teeth in for one of my parents because her little girl says she can't find a job while she's "toothless"; I try my best to help a single dad who has been living in his car with his 3 children, and I try not to be discouraged when they disappear again in the middle of the night; I tell the kicking, screaming, cussing, hissing, ball of child in my arms how much I love him as I carry him to the office for the 3rd time this week; I look parents in the eye and tell them what they need to hear instead of what they always want to hear; I skip Social Studies so that my whole class can sneak with me into the cafeteria to hide surprises for the "cafeteria ladies"and I spend a good deal of time teaching my students how to be good people. Is this in the standards? Nope. Am I an activist? You Bet!!

I'm a human. I don't get paid to be human, but it's the best part of my job!

Day 66: 29 January - CHANGE

2009-01-29T10:50:00.000+02:00

Ok, i want to start off by saying i do not intend for this blog to have any political affiliations or ties. However there is a unavoidable relationship between politics, governments and activism. That means sometimes it is difficult to avoid a "political" conversation. So let me just say that any political views, opinions, or statements are my own and are not necessarily those of the other authors of 365 Days of Activism. Now that that is out of the way...

I have been thinking a great deal lately about change. I must say that i am thrilled that Obama is now the president of the United States. I think Obama being elected president is one of those milestones that my generation will be know for. Over the election campaigns the word "change" was cleverly linked with Obama. He is in fact "change" in many ways, shapes and forms and I do feel that he represents the "change we need". I really believe in him as a leader and i have alot of faith in him! What i do not believe is that he is some magical being that will take away our problems, make everything "ok", and bring happiness to America and the rest of the world. Though he may be a representative of change, and even a powerful catalyst, he himself will not solely be or bring the change we need. I watched a documentary called "Barack Obama: People's President" on Tuesday night and as much as i enjoyed it there was one specific part that stood out to me. Several young voters were being asked about Obama, and one of his young female supporters said something along the lines of, "We cannot sit around and wait for Obama or the government to bring the change we need. We are responsible to bring that change ourselves." This statement hit the nail on the head for me! As much as Obama is a representative of change WE as the people are responsible to bring mass change, and push for him and the government to stand by the change that they have promised. I think that true change comes when average people make small intentional decisions to bring change in their day to day life; this could be smiling at a stranger, donating to a charity, helping someone who is broke down on the side of the road, adopting a child, or as simple as switching off the lights when you are not using them.

I have noticed that certain people are already putting enormous amounts of pressure on Obama. He has been president for a little over a week and i hear people say things like, "Obama has been president for a week and gas prices are still going up." I find this hilarious and frustrating. Whether a person is an Obama supporter or totally against him, we cannot afford to put too much responsibility on him. We have to trust him as a leader to have the best intentions of his country in mind, and trust him to do the things he says, but we also cannot be unrealistic (whether we are for or against him) and expect things to just magically change. We have to be agents of that change.

So since i am already writing a political post i just want to speak briefly about the South African political climate. They are labelling this up coming election as "the most important election since 1994", and i believe it very well could be. I want to challenge all South Africans, and especially the young voters, to get out and register if you are not, and vote! Your last chance to register is the 7th & 8th of February. American just saw a record number of young voters, and groups of people that have never traditionally voted, come to the polls and vote. South Africans can follow this example, educate themselves about the candidates, and make an informed vote. Because whether we like it or not, the government lays the structure of the system in which we are fighting for change. But no matter the outcome of the South African election, and no matter what happens with Obama in America, you can count on the fact that i will do everything in my power to see much needed change brought to the lives and communities of people around me. I hope you will commit to do the same!

Day 65: 28 January - Did Freud Mention the Defense Mechanism of “RUN”?

2009-01-28T16:28:00.000+02:00

Suppression, Repression, Narcissism, Humor, Regression, Denial, Projection, Distortion, Passive Aggression, Acting Out, Displacement, Dissociation, Intellectualization, Isolation…to name a few. We all adapt to our environments by developing these wonderful defenses! I say wonderful sarcastically because though these tools are subconsciously (usually) created to protect us from unwanted feelings or emotions, they often end up hurting us further.. Defense mechanisms are not all bad. When used healthily, and to the proper degree, they can be quite helpful. I know Humor, Suppression, and Intellectualization helped me through many tough years! Then again everything cannot be joked or laughed off, suppressed (or repressed if one is acting in an immature defense) emotions and feelings make their way up to the surface at some point or another, and some things just plain don’t make sense no matter how you look at it!

There is one Defense Mechanism that I commonly see with the children living on the streets that Freud failed to mention: RUNNING! Sure, there are certain Defense Mechanisms that come into play when a child, or adult for that matter, decides to run from a situation, but Freud did not specifically define the act of literally running from a problem (or at least, not that I know of). Running, however, is a well polished Defense Mechanism that these children know so well. I have seen it over and over again. It usually starts at home with a problem, series of problems, or an environment of continuous, ongoing pain and hurt. The child cannot cope and eventually runs from that reality to escape it. Insert a little Suppression of the previous hurt experienced, and the pain of leaving certain loved ones behind, a bit of Projection not wanting to take credit for certain aspects that may be his or her fault, and maybe even a sprinkle of Acting Out.

The child will find his or her way to the streets, or an organization, or maybe other family members in another community, but unfortunately the “system” is built around this Defense Mechanism that the child has now discovered. Most organizations (apart from Places of Safety and Juvenile Reformatories) have an “open door policy”, meaning the child can run away any time they feel. This is obviously not encouraged, but one could argue as long as the child knows it’s an option, we are basically giving him or her permission to do so. This makes it easy for the child to run whenever a problem occurs. For instance, little Johnny might run away from home because he got in trouble at school. He then finds his way to town and joins a group of kids that come from similar backgrounds. Johnny lives with them until one day he steals from one of the kids in the group. Instead of confronting the problem he may run back home, or not seeing that as an option may run to another group in another part of town.

Unfortunately, the problems never disappear. They are still there waiting for Johnny, or whoever, but it is Johnny that is in a different place where those problems do not exist. Today I bumped into Julian, who is a perfect example of this. I met up with him about two years ago on the streets when he had run from the shelter he had been staying in. I worked with him for a while and got him back home staying with his family. Eventually he was not coping in that environment and ended up running away again. Back to the shelter he had run from before I met with him at that time. I saw him at the shelter a couple of weeks back and he seemed happy. So today I bumped into him and he told me he had run away from the shelter on Sunday because he had gotten in a fight with another boy. He is back on the streets. That is, he is back on the streets until something happens that will cause him to run to the next place.

Julian is still young, but he is getting older. The most unfortunate thing about a lifestyle “on the run” is that, as I said earlier, problems do not disappear and they only end up piling up all over the place. The older the child gets in this “life on the run”, the more bridges he or she burns, and the more unresolved problems he or she faces in the world, and the more difficult it is for them to ever settle down and realize that life is full of problems and the only way to get rid of them is to face them head on. I do not think it is a mere coincidence that in our society where we have so many children running from their problems, and a system that supports that decision, that we would also have such a high rate of “fatherless” children. Because these children that learn to run from their problems grow up, get girls pregnant, and act in the defense they know best: RUN!

give oprah to the dogs.

2009-01-28T12:34:00.000+02:00

yesterday while cooking dinner, our tv was on the station that plays the oprah show. for some time now i have had very adverse reactions to oprah. examples include swear words uncontrollably flying out of my mouth, my eyes shooting out laser beams at the tv screen, my fists clenching and palms starting to sweat. i remember one time she had this homeless dude on there and she was such a you-know-what to him. i actually wrote about it on my blog (www.reflectioninwater.blogspot.com).

anyways. so oprah was on (because, as much as i loathe her, i get sucked in. it's a nasty cycle) and the entire episode was dedicated to people with dogs who can do weird things like hop on two legs, nurse lion cubs, add basic numbers and count out the sum with their paws, and so forth. it was really entertaining, i'm not gonna lie. minus the freaky dog with two legs that looked like a malnurished kangaroo. that was traumatic to watch. towards the end of the show, lynette from desperate housewives came on. i love her on that show. but on oprah, she was going on about this large number of dogs who were "orphans", abused and neglected. she even said "these dogs have never had their own bed to sleep on". ok, now let me insert a few sentences about my love for dogs. i love them. i have one. they are sweet and cuddly and make me happy. but at that moment i wanted to punch lynette.

i live in a world where kids live on the streets, smoke crack from the single-digit ages, are neglected and abandoned, have no bed to sleep in, kinda like oprah's homeless dogs. i live with a man (my husband) who has made it his life's work to fight for the rights of such kids. it's a huge passion in my heart, and my heart breaks when i see certain situations these kids face. but what doesn't break me heart is when i see passionate people with really famous tv shows and huge public platforms who some people follow religiously NOT giving kids in need the same attention and support and awareness as they give animals.

is it because dogs are cute and cuddly and easy to control? are kids on the street too scary, confusing, guilt-producing, dirty?

i hope a day comes when oprah lets dogs be dogs and brings attention and passion to people's lives about these children. and not as a trendy topic to throw around for money and glory, but a heart-cry that bring people to a place of brokenness for the reality that children live, work, cry on the streets of the world's cities.

don't hate me cause i bash oprah and her dog-loving self. she's just giving the people what they want. and what they want is animal rescue and dogs with cute little tricks. it's clear that society doesn't yet want children invited to the show to express their pain and abandonment. so i guess it's not really oprah's problem, but society as a whole. our hearts aren't yet longing for the equality and justice so many of us preach.

Day 61: 24 January - Tattooed in Our Minds and Hearts

2009-01-24T12:57:00.000+02:00

I have been fairly “quiet” for a while. My “online silence” does not, however, reflect the business I have found myself in over the past two weeks or so; I have been very busy with follow up meetings and plans from my 16 days on the streets, because my 16 days were followed by the time of the year where everything on this side of the world kind of slows down, and even stops, for the holidays. Things are moving again. The conversation as to “what to do with the hardened kids” in town needs to continue, and action needs to follow, but as that dialogue continues I am aware of how easy it is to become overwhelmed by the “problem”.

I started this conversation on here for several reasons. I felt it was important to highlight the complexity of the situation. As the conversation continues it becomes more and more obvious that most avenues have been attempted for these specific children at one time or another, that something drastic needs to happen, but that we also are not quite sure what exactly that “something” is. I can see a true concern for these children along with a frustration in not knowing what to do in many comments people have made in this discussion. I know how easy it is to become overwhelmed by the size of the problem when we focus on it, and especially when “solutions” seem to be far and wide. Yesterday I was reminded again of a powerful tool for change.

I went to the Southern Ink Exposure Tattoo Convention last night. Wildfire Tattoo , where I get my work done, is hosting the event and it is the first Tattoo Convention of this caliber to be held on African soil. There are artists from all over the world. It is truly an amazing experience and I would recommend anybody, whether you like tattoos or not, to try and make it out to the convention! Anyways, I had a couple of conversations at the convention that were very important reminders for me. The first conversation was with Tyler Murphy. Tyler used to work at Wildfire but has recently gone out on his own and opened his own studio, Sins of Style . He excitedly greeted me last night when I saw him.

The last time I saw Tyler was smack dab in the middle of my 16 days on the streets. I was walking around one early morning, waiting for Crippie to open. I remember that morning because I did not have enough money to buy a cup of coffee, vital for my “wakeup routine”, AND soup so I was just walking around like a zombie and hoping for a caffeine intervention. Just when I thought my cause to get coffee was impossible I bumped into Tyler sitting outside a little café on Long Street. I stopped and chatted. He told me about his new tattoo studio he had just opened, and because of the “state” I was in (unkept, dirty, smelly, hairy face, etc.) the topic of my time on the streets arose naturally. Without me having to ask, or express my desperation for coffee, he offered to buy me some. Sigh of relief. We then sat and chatted over coffee and talked in great depths about my time on the streets, the reason I was doing it, and the current situation of children on the streets. He was a great audience!

So last night when I bumped into him he excitedly asked me how the rest of my time on the streets went and how I had adjusted back to “normal” life. Then he said, “You don’t know how much that conversation that we had impacted me that day! I couldn’t get it out of my mind! I have continued our conversation with so many people. You would not believe how many people I have talked to about it! You really achieved what you were trying by starting conversations!”. Tyler simply reminded me of one really important “solution”: awareness. People cannot make a difference in something they don’t know, or don’t care, about but by simply starting conversations, and feeding important information to people, we are educating them of the problem, and laying down a foundation of awareness to build real and lasting change. For Tyler, our conversation seemed to be tattooed on his mind and heart and he will not soon forget it.

I also had a conversation with a group of artists from Kansas City. We had the normal back and forth about where we are from in the States, and then they were asking what I was doing here and for how long. When they heard I work with the kids in town the one girl brokenheartedly spoke about one of the younger kids that they bumped into on Long Street. I knew who he was based on her description. I expected to hear the typical “foreigner response” about the “cute little kid” that she gave a bunch of money to, but it was nothing like that. She said she could see he was hyped up on drugs and her heart broke for him. She said she felt like “picking him up, taking him away from that reality and taking care of him”; her sentiments coming very close to some of the “solutions” that we have come to in the discussion about these kids. She felt it was wrong to allow a child to be in that place, and that a child addict should not be treated as an adult and something had to happen before he literally kills himself in his cycle of self destruction. I could see that the image of his face was tattooed on her mind and heart!

These conversations were refreshing for me! They did not bear fruit of amazing solutions to the problem we face, but they were a reminder of one simple thing: we cannot be overwhelmed by the “problem” and have to focus on simple, achievable “solutions” for these kids. And as we continue to seek long term, sustainable and permanent solutions for them, I am reminded that one very simple, doable solution is to merely continue with conversations. Because these informed conversations lead to an awareness. Information is power. And based on this informed awareness of the general public, we are able to build true and lasting change in the greater structure and in the lives of these children. We have to come to a point where a vast majority of society feels strongly that it is wrong to allow children to live on the streets. Once this simple belief is tattooed in the minds and hearts of many, I believe that we will begin to see real and lasting change come!

Moving the discussion along - Hardened Street Children

2009-01-21T13:32:00.000+02:00

Instead of following on with Ryans blog, I thought to carry the conversation along a little in a freash post. Just finished another meeting in my discussions of what to do with the drug addicted street kids and some ideas flowed, so I have some ideas and questions to run past you guys. So here we go, the question is what if we get creative and out of our comfort zone?

First some points to understand:
1. These kids are addicted to drugs, their mission is to get drugs, nothing else.
2. They make a lot of money from begging, working in the taxis, working for the restaurants, asking for shoes/cornflakes which they then sell and so on.
3. I cannot find an appropriate service for them, ie no detention drug rehab for children (if any of you do know of one please let me know).
4. We cannot just let them carry on regardless, but at the same time we cannot seem to do anything for them.

So what about this:
1. We target all their money streams, drug dealers, child labour and so on as never before.
2. We empower the security gaurds, firstly so that they understand the position of the kids, what we can do for them (not much at the moment) and so they understand that these kids are addicted to drugs, how they go about getting the money, their behavour, etc.
3. We then set up a wet-shelter (they can come in high or drunk) where they can sleep during the day, have a shower, start to get medical and psyhcological/drug rehab treatment and then they are allowed out at night if they want.
4. We assign a security gaurd to each kid to follow them around, educate and stop people giving them money, basically make sure that to get drugs is very difficult because they are being followed all the time.
5. We slowly change their behaviour and move them into the normal system.

So what do you think, I will expand on this or any point if anyone is interested. The main point is that the kids have a safe place to go and sleep, the street environment is made difficult for them to continue begging and using drugs and boundaries are put in place. Yes there are problems, like the kids will just move to the waterfront who refuses to look at anything programme to reduce begging. I however think it is worth starting to serioiusly discuss this idea.

Why Not us?

2009-01-20T19:34:00.000+02:00

I have just watched Barack Obama get inaugurated. He makes people excited to help. Why don't we all just find something else to do good instead of thinking about the bad? You don't have to be a big famous person or even a adult to do something great. People are mistreated on the streets like Ryan helps. We can all help them. People have diseases like diabetes like I help. We can all help them. Children could give toys to an orphanage. We can all help them. You can even just do kind good deeds for your neighbors. We can ALL help them. What are we all using our bodies for? Why aren't we using it for the good? President Obama sees what I am talking about! Now let's all join together throughout the world to help the ones that need us the most and to be the person that we want to . Now let's be the people that know what to do !

purveyors of fine... hope and humility

2009-01-20T13:57:00.001+02:00

for any of you that have been in the "business" of transformation for some time you, i am sure, will remember a day... maybe a moment... or an incident that took the wind out of your sails and left you feeling a bit hopeless. a kid that keeps making the same stupid mistake over and over. an addict that just can't let go. women who don't walk away when they should. the list could go on and on. (at least for me it could :)... life at beth uriel- visit www.bethuriel.co.za for more information- has presented me with quite a "list")

all of these incidences are evidence that the human will is indeed quite strong and unable to be controlled by anyone other than the body in which it dwells. this may be common sense to some-- but is a wall that i bang my head on over and over and over again. needless to say, i wake up with headaches often.

this past december i was reminded that if i dwell on these disappointments too long that my hope takes a hit-- which is the greatest gift i think i have to give people. hope that change is possible. that our past does not dictate our future. that the gifts buried in the rubbish of this city's difficulty can be dug up and displayed with pride. many of the beth uriel family members are examples of such treasure. young men with matric certificates-- the first in their family to graduate. others with jobs and safe places of their own to stay. still others who are early on in their journey but show the desire and discipline required to grow out of brokenness.

in the midst of one of my most recent "hopeless" spells a light went on. very small. again, maybe common sense to some. but enough to shine in the dark corners of my hopeless mind. it occurred to me that if i chose to look at things a bit differently that instead of being without hope (which is of no benefit to anyone) that i would find better company in humility. the difference being that the focus is off myself. i alone am not capable of being responsible for the transformation of individuals or society. i alone can not climb over the walls i keep banging my head on. i alone will drown in the difficult circumstances that lie ahead. however, in the company of other people and in the knowledge that the here and know is only a shadow of eternity, transformation is possible. walls crumble. lives change.

so... leaving hopelessness behind and grabbing on to humility... i say thank you. for those that share in this journey. that speak truth in dark places. that walk with individuals that have been discarded by many. that see lilies and flowers (gerald) where others see mud. thank you.

Holy Cows ,Hard Work and Turning the Tables.

2009-01-19T16:53:00.000+02:00

The family and I went to Darling yesterday to have lunch at Evita se Perron and grab a show "Evita Praat Kaktus", and while we had a great day with lots of laughter, great food and the country life I was astounded at how Pieter Dirk Uys can still make one think, can still teach you a think or two and especially show you what true activism is all about.

It was Pieter who in about 1988 taught me that there are no holy cows when it comes to fighting for what is right, who through his show "The SA Bothatanic" lifted the veil of apartheid propaganda and confusion and set me on my small little activist road. It was his waving finger PW Botha, his drunk Pik and his big-eared Piet Koornhof who showed me the ridiculousness and selfishness of the politician, and who taught me that we need to hold our politicians to account.

Yesterday the message was all up to date, using the Sunday papers, Barrack Obama, quick wit, stand-up comedy and what I call a "re-history" lesson, he pushed us to question everything, to use our vote and that every little bit, even one vote can and does make a difference. This of course got me to thinking about the elections ahead, the ridiculousness of our current crop of politicians, whose agendas remain selfish and narrow minded, and the importance of us not wasting our vote and voting with an activist mindset.

Activism, in the form of Pieter Dirk Uys of course does not end with a vote or even a laugh or two, it goes along with hard work. Pieter is one of those people who always astounds me at how hard he works, he never stops, is always fighting for what he believes is right. He has shows all around the world, has a trust to help the people of Darling and surrounds, runs a museum, art and craft workshops, is a prolific writer, has TV shows, voter education, HIV education roadshows, and so on. Stay in any city for a while and you are bound to bump into him or his message in one way or another. His message is only so clear, to so many, because he works so hard to put it out there, to stand up for what he believes and to challenge, through satire and direct confrontation that which he knows is wrong.

Pieter's activism however has a very clear methodology: "Turn the Tables". He does not accept boundaries or limitations set by others, especially those in charge. Instead he uses these boundaries and limitations against those who set them, he strips the power from the high and might by refusing to be intimidated by it and even using their speeches and actions as his script. He has a special knack of using the very tools of a bad programme against itself. For instance I never forget his piece on the banana and the Condom. The government was using a banana to teach kids how to use a condom, he went right to the failure of the governments HIV programme by telling a story of how the kids were now putting a condom on a banana by the side of the bed before having unprotected sex.

So what does Pieter teach us activists for children's rights. Well we can all make a difference even if it is just a well considered vote. Also it is not enough to just think something, we need to act, we need hard work if we want to see a change in the life of the kids on the street. We must not limit ourselves by the agendas set by others and we must use the failure of the system as a point of departure. Thanks Pieter for a great show, for teaching us activists how it is done and for showing us all that anyone, even a small white ageing gay from Darling can make a huge difference and be a symbol of strength to so many.

We look with our Eyes yet to SEE is to UNDERSTAND.

2009-01-16T08:40:00.000+02:00

Ok I’m no great writer but I am a Christian :) so here I go.

I’ve realised that although we look at the world through our eyes, yet to SEE, is to UNDERSTAND. "Oh now I see" Many times we are influenced by what we looking at, and less by ‘understanding’ or truth. Yesterday Ryan made the example of giving a child a R10 on Long Street as the equivalent to kneeling down with a lighter to light his or her rock pipe. But because what we look at a small child in need of food we react according to what we looking at out of pity, or just to get them away, we give them the R10 which is the same as saying ok just go and smoke your pipe and leave me alone. The truth is that you are lighting a pipe but people will look at you giving him a R10 and not lighting a pipe for him. So there is a difference between what we look at and the truth of the situation.

Relating to one of the boys at the shelter the other day (for those who don’t know me I work at and organisation called Homestead…hello) I took him in our imagination to the scene of a swamp and asked him to tell me what his eyes behold. He plainly said… Mud. I then said that just because his eyes declare mud didn’t mean that it was the reality of the situation, there is a deeper understanding. There is always a greater truth or understanding to what our eyes behold. Although there was mud the reality is that this is where you find lilies, and lilies need mud. Beneath all the mud there was a seed that was not going to be hindered by mud or the darkness of its bed but was going to push through and stand out in all the darkness surrounding it and shine as one of the most beautiful flowers of creation. I believe that the unseen is more real than the seen. Although we need the material things to survive its things like love,courage and perserverance that are unseen, that really matter in life.

Many times we are to focussed on what we looking at (which can be subject to so many different interpretations) and fail to really understand or see. We walk with mud on our faces blinded by circumstances. As long as we continue to look and make decisions upon that we will continue to make decisions that are not in the best interest of children, we will always be fighting, blaming and cursing yet if we seek to understand we will start seeing our responsibility as citizens in society and find our place and position in this world. We can judge kids who sniff glue which many of them use as an escape from reality, and we could be doing the very same thing in a different form, but because our methods of escape are more acceptable by society doesn’t make us any better or better off the difference is that we look at the one doing it but fail to SEE the other one doing it. And this is what we should strive to SEE.

My message is to urge a search for understanding and truth which lie beyond the surface of what we "look" at. It is when we find understanding we begin to see our role and then start taking responsibility not only outside ourselves but also inside ourselves. We are not isolated from the issues in our society and are very much a part of it whether we choose to LOOK or SEE is our responsibility.

Is that Ok?

Day 52: 15 January - How Far is Far Enough?

2009-01-16T00:47:00.000+02:00

Ok, with this post i would like to get some real conversation going. I want feedback and input from anybody and everybody, but most especially from parents! I sat in, what i felt was, a very productive meeting today with a couple of the key role players in the "street children" sector. To be exact, we sat and talked for almost five hours. Majority of our conversation, and the reason for our meeting was to talk about a small hand full of kids in town that are considered "hardened street kids". These are children that have pretty much been in and out of every facility, addicted to heavy drugs, totally sucked into street life, and extremely out of control of their lives (because of their drug addiction). Their families know their children need help but don't know how and feel disempowered. If you caught one of the kids in a rational moment even they themselves would admit they need help, but the addiction has a stronger hold on their lives than ration, reason, programs, family or any other outside force.

So one of the big questions today was "what do we do with these kids?". It is a small, workable group. But we know that whatever is done will have to be extreme, holistic, and most probably not optional. You see, these children have been allowed to make the choice to go and live on the streets, use heavy drugs, and partake in this destructive behaviour. They were not mature enough to make that decision in the first place, so we can equally not expect them to be mature enough to make the decision to leave this destructive cycle while they are still alive, especially considering the power an addiction can have (specifically crack cocaine) over a grown adult, much less a child! At what point do we as adults intervene, whether the child likes it or not, whether he or she is happy with us or not, for his or her own good. I know my mom would have gone to drastic measures to insure my safety and health, and though i may have been irritated with certain punishments or consequences from my actions, i know that she acted in love and looking back i appreciate it.

So now let's just put the case of these children aside for a second. i want you to get really personal with this. I want you to imagine that YOUR kids (let's just say ages anywhere from 12-17) are in this position (if you don't have kids you will have to take it a step further and imagine you have kids); they are addicted to crack cocaine, their drug addiction has taken them to the streets, grown adults give them money to feed their habits, grown adults sell them the drugs, sometimes grown adults smoke the drugs with them, your child often sells his or her body to get money for the drugs to wrinkly, old men, your child is totally spiralling out of control in a self destructive manner and you are literally watching him or her come closer to death with every day that passes by. Ok, got the mental picture? Now here is where i want your input...

1) Would you care?

2) If so, what extent would you go to to see your child get help?

3) If your child resisted all forms of "help", knowing that he or she is a minor, would you go to the extent of forcing him or her to go to a treatment facility/healing program against his or her will?

4) How would you feel about the "grown adults" in your child's life that are enabling his or her addiction? and

5) what would you suggest doing with them?

I would really appreciate your feedback!!

a parentless generation in the making.

2009-01-15T11:11:00.000+02:00

a few years ago i fell in love with a small community between lavender hill and muizenberg call capricorn. at the time i was working with a group of boys from this community who were leaving home for extended lengths of time, sleeping and getting into trouble in muizenberg. through that work, i met each of their families, which led to meeting other families and people in the area. quickly i got connected to lots of random people, especially since i was the only white person i saw roaming the streets of this overlooked community.

one family i met really took my heart. it's a complex web of relationships, but basically there is a grandmother named auntie m with 5 children (was 6 but the youngest died 2 years ago). M, S, B, S and Bru, in order from oldest to youngest. Now, M's (19 years old) girlfriend "fell pregnant", as they say in cape town, and they have a son michael. S's (17 years old) got 2 kids from her ex-boyfriend (she was 14 when she had the first son. Her oldest son is 3, his name is Leshwin. The little brother is baby Ryan (yes, named after mr brown himself!) and he's maye 1 1/. B is 14 and wanders around selling herself to guys on the street. S and Bru, 11 and 8ish, are in school and have somewhat normal lives for kids (minus the continuous drug use going on in their house and the random people who shack up there).

ok so the reason i'm writing this blog is to share w. you a bit of s's situation. after birthing two children before the age of 17, she started realizing how much of her life she was losing b/c of these kids. so sometime in this past year a shift occured in her behavior : she started staying out for days on end, she lost lots of weight cause of the tik she is smoking, and now she has moved out of the house and is living in a car on the harbor with "an old man" as her little sister told me. So yesterday i got a call from her mom, auntie m, desperately asking me to go look for stephie. it was all-pay day and s needed to be present to collect the R400 she gets each month from the government for her two kids. s needed to take her i.d. to collect the money, no one else could stand in for her.

so off i go with a carful all intent on finding s. we get to the harbor and a few of the kids jump out and run towards the docks. they returned a few mintues later with the information that s and the "old man" had made their way to a community 30 minutes east and there was no word that they were coming back anytime soon.

s with her kids.

two of the many people in my car were s's two motherless children, leswin and baby ryan. clueless as to what we were doing, why we were all concerned, and what impact this would have on their next month, they were busy climbing from lap to lap, grabbing my dog's face and shaking it, popping their heads out the window to catch a view of the beautiful blue ocean water, speaking in half words and sounds that it takes much time and patience to understand.

what struck me about this experience is hard to put into words, probably because i know this family so well and i have had 3 years to watch the ups and downs of each family member. so, what i still struggle to sit with is the "normalcy" of behavior such as s's. while disappointed, no one freaked out that she was (a) living with an old man in a car, (2) off on some adventure with no one aware of how to find her, (3) neglecting the welfare of her two children, as well as the financial state of her family who relies on that money to feed her kids, and (4) most likely coming home with a new bun in the oven, thus making her mother of 3 by her 19th birthday.

as i dropped her kids back home to their kinda-creepy stepgrandfather and their uncle m, i just felt really sad. i felt helpless. i felt determined to take leshwin and ryan away from s and raise them myself. i felt angry at the injustice of their situations...the cards they have been dealt while i drive away in a nice car to a nice flat to eat nice food and hang out with nice people. i felt compassion for the community of capricorn and even for stephie who i know is just being a teenager, not much more rebellious than i was at her age.

i want more people to feel burdened for families such as this, cause they are all around us no matter where we live. i want hearts to be touched for the great power we have to change a life simply by being available and choosing to walk through life with others. i want pity and apathy to create action and creativity and ideas. i want to drive by capricorn and see trees and flowers and rubbish bins and kids with shoes on and families with lovely food-smells drifting from their homes and smiles on people's faces.

wherever you live, whatever you do, however you live out your values...i challenge you to be inspired by the world around you, to embrace the power you have been given, and to bring change to the world.

"Do your little bit of good where you are; its those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world." --Desmond Tutu

Child Trafficking in the Mother City (Published previously in the Weekend Argus)

2009-01-14T10:38:00.000+02:00

Photo by Alexia Webster
Lured with promises of work and a new life in the big city, children as young as 13 are being poached from rural towns and brought to Cape Town to work on fruit and flower stalls. When they are not working, these children are virtual prisoners in a Wendy House in the back garden of their “employer”. Occasionally they are fed bread – if they are lucky - and are rarely paid. Most of them run away and, alone in a strange city, take to the streets like so many other poverty-stricken and uneducated youth. It sounds Dickensian at best, cruel and criminal at worst, yet the man accused of abducting them walked out of court a free man earlier this month after charges against him were dismissed.

Although the Children’s Bill signed by the President in 2006, is a progressive legislative tool that deals specifically with child labour and child trafficking, it will only come into effect next year, or possibly as late as 2009, leaving many children like these vulnerable to exploitation and abuse in the interim. A man known only to the children in question, as, “Boere” has, allegedly, been trafficking children from places like Upington and Mossel Bay to work at his fruit and flower since 2006. According to Sandra Morreira, Director of The Homestead and Chairperson of the Western Cape Street Children's Forum, a number of boys from upcountry have been released into their care claiming that “Boere” had promised them work but that they had run away because he did not pay them. One of the boys aged 14, from Mossel Bay, claimed that he ran away because he was being kept in the city against his will by “Boere” who had invited him for a weekend in Cape Town. Fortunately, his parents had reported him missing and the social worker at The Homestead managed to re-unite him with his family. “It’s because of us that those boys are now safely back with their parents”, says Morreira.

Earlier this month, “Boere” was arrested by Woodstock police and appeared in the Cape Town Magistrate Court for charges of abduction. In some instances, parents had given “Boere” their consent to bring the youth to Cape Town, so the charges were withdrawn and the case dismissed. Sandra Morreira is dismayed at the outcome and says, “He is now free to keep bringing in children who then end up on the street”. At the time of going press, the South African Police Services (SAPS) had not responded to questions regarding the case, despite a number of emails requesting them to do so. The National Prosecuting Authority (NPA) could not comment directly on the case or respond to the issue of why “Boere” was not charged with child labour. However, Deputy Director of Public Prosecutions, Bronwyn Pithey indicated that the matter is being investigated and that the police docket will be re-opened.

To date, prosecutors at the National Prosecuting Authority (NPA) have been unable to identify any cases prosecuted for trafficking specifically, and practical measures to address human trafficking have been limited despite research showing that it is occurring regularly in South Africa. According to the International Organisation of Migration (IOM), part of the problem is that the concept of trafficking is not widely understood or even regarded as an urgent problem. The absence of a specific trafficking offence within the legal system has also made it difficult to identify or track cases that may have included an element of trafficking, but were prosecuted under other laws. An IOM report suggests that due to a lack of statistics, some law enforcement officials have even gone so far as to deny that there is any human trafficking in South Africa. Patrick Solomons, Director of Molo Shongololo, an organisation that actively campaigns for children rights, says that because the current legislative framework does not deal with trafficking specifically, offenders can only be brought to book through legal action related to common law and statutory offences that are often committed in the course of trafficking. Solomon says, “There is very little protection against child trafficking besides charging [perpetrators] for offences such as kidnapping, sexual assault and child labour.”

According to the IOM, one of the main problems with relying on existing laws to prosecute offenders is that they do not adequately address the various elements that make up the distinct crime of trafficking such as sexual exploitation, fraudulent employment recruitment and the exploitation of migrant labour. What is equally problematic is that current legislation does not account for the all the individuals who participate, directly or indirectly, in the crime. For example, in the case of parents who consented to “Boere” taking their children to Cape Town, with the explicit purpose of working for him.

According to the Department of Labour, some of the worst instances of child labour occur where children are taken from rural households to work in urban areas. In many instances, as in the case of “Boere”, the children are offered no payment in return other than board and lodging. Some children are held captive by their employer and there have been reports of psychological and physical abuse. According to Sandra Morreira, although there is no evidence indicating that “Boere” had sexually or physical abused the boys, they had told her that “Boere” had kept them locked up in a Wendy-house in his garden in the evenings when they were not working and hardly provided much in the way of food except for some bread. She says, “These boys are extremely traumatised by the experience. It’s straight, disgusting exploitation.”

Although commercial sexual exploitation of children is being addressed in the Sexual Offences Bill, child slavery, forced labour and debt bondage, are not specifically designated as criminal offences with South Africa’s current legislation. Morreira welcomes the Children’s Bill and is confident that it will plug this loophole but she is concerned about what will happen to children in the year, or more, it may take for it to be implemented. “It can take a while before it can actually be promulgated and now people like him [Boere] is free to keep bringing in children who then end up on the street”, she says.

Article by Raffaella Delle Donne

Day 49: 12 January - Change Is Most Definitely Inevitable

2009-01-13T00:01:00.000+02:00

Today I have been overwhelmed by change; or maybe more the concept of change...wait, let me back up…

In my first year of studies at U.C.T., I had this course called “Text in Context”. I remember having a discussion in one of the first days of class. We were all trying to wrap our heads around this concept of “texts in context”, and the professor seemed to be taking it to the next level of “deepness”. Of course as first year students, eager to impress, we were all trying to show how deep we could also think and express. I am sure we were real impressive. Anyways, I guess the general idea was that contexts can be changed by texts…or was it texts are changed by contexts? Ok, obviously it did not really stick with me, but that doesn’t really matter. The discussion that day in class got me thinking about “contexts” and how we (the texts) change them.

For instance, I thought about the place I would go every Tuesday and Thursday night, at that time, to do boxing training. It was actually a church hall in an old Methodist church. Some nights it was used for boxing, other nights Tai Kwan Do, some days it was used for yoga, Sundays it was used for “children’s church”, and other days it was used for NA meetings. The building didn’t ever change, but the context did depending on who was in it and what they were doing in it. A heroin addict who has been clean for three years knows it as a place of accountability and safety, a little boy knows it as a place where he draws different pictures and plays with clay while his parents are in church, and I know it as a place where I exercised until I worked up disgusting amounts of sweat and punched a punching bag until my knuckles bled. So the building never changed, but depending on what day of the week, the people actually changed the context of the meaning the building has.

Where am I going with this?

Ok, so back to today. I was just overwhelmed with change in all different ways. I had the opportunity to show a couple of American girls around Cape Town a bit today. I got to town early so I went to check my email. I went to the same internet café that I went to every day during my 16 days on the streets. It was really weird. The place was exactly the same. It looked the same. It smelled the same. It was the same temperature. I even sat at the same computer that I usually sat at. Everything was pretty much the same but it felt so different! I had changed. I was not dirty, or self conscious of my smell and worried that the other customers might complain, or desperately needing to make use of the toilet, or craving one of the Cokes that sat in the ice cold refrigerator but not able to buy it. I was showered, didn’t need the toilet, and had just drank a wonderful, expensive latte on the way to town. The place was the same but I had changed, which changed my experience of the place.

I met the two American girls, Blanca and Liz, and we drank some coffee and then went to Crippie. Again, it was the same building that I ate in for 16 days, every single morning. It was the same place that provided a very important meal in my daily schedule. And within it was the same stew that I loved so dear during those 16 days! I remember standing in line and looking at the stew being served to other people in front of me in the line and my mouth would water. So when I walked in today, many of the people excitedly greeted me and said, “Ryan! It’s stew!!”. I hadn’t eaten this morning, but knowing that I could easily obtain a meal elsewhere, the stew did not seem as appetizing as it did during the 16 days. That made me sad! Crippie had not changed, the stew had not changed (except I think they may have added some noodles), but I had…and it was weird!

I took Liz and Blanca around town a bit after that and then we decided to go out and visit Town Two, Khayelitsha (a community that I worked in for a few years). I already felt a bit of guilt in going out there because I had not visited in a LONG time! And of course, when I got there, what was I confronted with but…change. The kids all seemed three feet taller, my favorite spaza shop is going under because the owner is sick, and many of the kids that were in the programs we had running are now standing on the street corners and getting into trouble; one of them was arrested over the holiday season and he was one of our star boxers in our sports program just a few years ago! The community, as in structure, had not changed all that much; a little bit here in there. But the kids had, and I have too. It was kind of eerie. It was really sad to see some of the kids that had so much potential making absolutely nothing of their lives and just getting into trouble because of lack of support structures.

That is when I realized…

They are being changed by the “context” around them. And until that context sees serious change, it will continue to impact the youth in a negative way. It is unreasonable for us as adults to expect young people not to be changed by the context in which they find themselves in. But it is our responsibility to teach them how to interact with the different contexts, bringing positive change, when needed, both within the contexts and in they themselves.

I don’t know if this makes since. I questioned even writing this blog. It is kind of profound, but might not even be. It is late, and I have alot running through my head! I hope you managed to grasp some sort of concrete thought from this!

a sense of community we don't know...

2009-01-12T18:51:00.000+02:00

one of the things that struck me during my time with ryan on the streets, was the sense of community that existed with the people that lived on the streets. there was a serious support of one another that is not so prevalent in our more affluent societies. Ryan told me how money and food that one would find oneself with would be shared, no matter how little there was to start with. the concept being, i have today, but who knows about tomorrow... of course there are some who do not share, and sooner or later, they will not be shared with either. i too experienced this one day, ryan's last day on the street: it was late in town and i had left my lights on and when i got to my car, my battery was dead. not a great moment. around the courner came the two biggest smiles you can see in the picture to the left. they were running from the police or something. when i explained the situation, they got completely involved - watching my car while i found someone with jumper leads, when that didn't work, pushing the car down the street; when that didn't work, waited while i called the AA; when my phone died, offered me their R3 so i could call and get some help; waited with me until the AA came...... they were the champions of champions. i had luckily gained access to their hearts in that moment and it moved me. especially when they offered me their money.... the community is strong on the street. we can all stand to learn from it x x x

Horrendous New Year!!

2009-01-08T23:22:00.001+02:00

Shocking...that is the only word that can come to my mind right now after watching the video of Oscar Grant being shot in the back by a police officer, while he was being restrained by another. A young man, only 22 years old, was shot in the back when he was completely defenseless and was causing a danger to no one.

I had hoped to say more, but I think the video speaks for itself...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0OJTa9F2O14

We have to bring an end to this type of police brutality!

my love for kids go beyond the streets

2009-01-05T17:30:00.000+02:00

This boy is the image of me when i was in the streets,my first year and in him i see a great person his name is innocent and his mother is doing time in Pollsmoor.i last saw him on Christmas Eve only to see him still smiling and as witty as ever in a brand new year like this!wow he is just an amzing little boy who plays chess and can do nice photography work.

If we can allow a kid this age to be in the streets,how do we feel when we eat,when we sleep ,when we go out for fun?

I am still getting to know the boy better but i promise you i would like to make sure that this little angel gets a good life and live a normal life as much as he can.In him there is innocents,there is wonder,there is joy ,no pain like what i feel for i have been there and i wont,in my life time ,let a kid be in the streets.

its good that i have moved to Cape town and i will be able to work with everyone on this blog as much as we can to see to it that we care,we wanna see the kids living normal lives.

Day 41: 4 January - With My Own Two Hands

2009-01-04T15:46:00.000+02:00

This blog might come across as controversial or maybe offensive to some. I personally do not believe that it has to, but I know that what I am about to type may question certain people’s beliefs a bit, and in so rub them the wrong way. My intentions are not to offend or irritate people, so if you find that this entry does in fact rub you the wrong way, I ask that you finish reading it, think about it a bit, and give the subject matter a little more thought; before you just cast it aside. And though this blog has a “spiritual” slant to it, I feel that it is relevant to people of all walks of life and faiths.

I guess it is important to start off by saying that I am a Christian. I have a strong faith in God that is a very important part of my life. Lately it seems I have been confronted with a certain “theme” over and over again; through conversations, observations, movies, music, and so on. Summing up or defining this “theme” in few words is difficult, but I guess the easiest way to describe it is I have noticed how people seem to put too much blame, and responsibility, on God when it comes to the negativity that they see in their life and in the world around them. Not only do they blame God for the bad that they see or experience, but they also put too much responsibility on Him to fix it.

Ok, now I guess that is the controversial part that I was talking about but hear me out. I think prayer is important. I think it is equally important to ask God for strength, hope, help, comfort, and whatever else you may need in life. But I also think that we are sometimes way to quick to look up and blame God for bad things happening, or good things not happening, when we have the power to change those things ourselves. An example would be a man that passed by a hungry, half-naked, shivering street child on a cold winter night. As the man passed the child he truly felt moved with emotion, outraged that a child would have to live in such a situation, and broken hearted thinking about the child.

The man immediately began to pray, “Dear God please help this child! He looks so hungry and cold. I pray that you would send someone across his path that could give him shelter, food and clothes! It is not fair for this child to live in this situation for another day…”. The man did not even question or consider that he most probably was that very person! That he himself possessed the ability and power to immediately change that child’s reality. But it is easier to ask God to do it. A few days later the man may pass the child again, and see that he is in the exact same predicament, and nothing has changed for the good. The man might then take out his anger, and even guilt, on God, “Oh God why do you not answer my prayers?! How can you let this child live under these circumstances?! Why?”. God is probably asking the man the same thing!

I know that example is kind of extreme, but I hope my point is clear. I was watching Bruce Almighty the other day when it came on television. For those of you that haven’t seen it, Bruce (played by Jim Carrey) basically questions God (played by Morgan Freeman) on how he “runs” things and God gives him the chance to do a better job if he thinks he can. At first Bruce is drunk with power, and he misuses it for his own selfish will. Then he begins granting every single prayer that every single person prays! Things begin to utterly spin out of control and total chaos ensues. When things are totally devastatingly terrible Bruce speaks with God. God then tells him, “That's your problem, Bruce. That's everybody's problem. You keep looking up… People want me to do everything for them. What they don't realize is that they have the power. You want to see a miracle? Be the miracle.” From that point on Bruce starts to make “right” the “wrongs” he had made.

He doesn’t use his divine supernatural powers to do so either! He merely uses his free will, power to choose, and, most importantly, power to ACT. So he gives the job back to the guy he stole it from by misusing his powers, he realizes he cannot put a spell on his girlfriend to make her not be mad at him and he has to work to earn her love back (after he really messed things up with her), and he does things as simple as getting out in traffic to help a guy whose car is broken down. This does not take the role of God completely out of the picture, but Bruce realized an important lesson: So many of the things that he complained about in life were merely “that way” because good people decided not to act, but by simply choosing to “act”, no matter how small the deed may be, true change can come and slowly solutions are found for the problems that cause grief. He realized not only that we are part of the problem, but that we can also be a part of the solution; we can BE the solution.

Now as I said, this does not take God out of the equation; at least not for me. I still look to Him for wisdom, strength, hope, guidance and the other things I need to assist me along the way. But I just realize that, for whatever reason, we live in a world where God chooses to work through people; people that have the gift of free will. And so when we see something we see something that we feel is not right, or someone that we feel needs help, or a situation where change should come, instead of asking God, “How can you let that happen?”, we should look to ourselves and as the same question, and see what is in our power and capacity to see needed change come. Like Gandhi said, “Be the change you want to see!”.

“I can change the world
With my own two hands
Make a better place
With my own two hands
Make a kinder place

I can make peace on earth
With my own two hands
And I can clean up the earth
With my own two hands
And I can reach out to you
With my own two hands”

(Ben Harper, With My Own Two Hands)

Day 38: 1 January - Happy New Year!

2009-01-01T09:34:00.000+02:00

I hope you managed to sit back and take stock of 2008; remembering the good and bad, what can be taken into the new year and maybe what shouldn't, and being grateful for another year gone by. I hope that 2009 will be a wonderful year for you! I don't know what is up with this, seemingly new, trend of trying to sum up how the year will be with a little rhyme (e.g. 2008 is going to be great!), but whatever rhyme you come up with, i hope 2009 is...fine, time to shine, be my valentine, all mine, every night we dine, walking the line, building a shrine, divine, not like a Philistine, time to lay off the wine, swing from a vine, oh Clementine...um, yeah.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!! Have a stupendous 2009!!!!!!!

fyi...

2008-12-30T10:00:00.000+02:00

hello all,
in an attempt to keep you up to date on other work of activism, i want to send you to my blog where i've posted the 2008 newsletter from the Drug Crisis Centre I work for in Fish Hoek. i didn't want to post it here cause it's quite long. but if you are interested...go here.

baie dankie,
ashley.

Day 35: 29 December - Home is Where the Hurt is

2008-12-29T20:09:00.000+02:00

As much as I do not want to see children living on the streets, the harsh reality is that the communities they often come from are also not always a viable option. I remember a few years ago when the local government went through a phase where they said they want to move away from “institutions” and only work at community development and family reunification. As wonderful as this ideal sounds, much work has to be done in the communities before we can begin shutting down institutions, or saying we no longer need them. In the current set up, they are in great demand. This did not stop the government from moving in the direction of shutting down institutions and making it extremely difficult for the existing ones to receive government funding; all of this with no real change happening in the communities.

As I said, I do not want to see children living on the streets, but if we are going to see that day come there is an enormous amount of work that needs to go into our communities. Today I saw a good example of that. I was on my way to town and I got a call on my cell phone from China. He said he was at Groote Schuur Hospital and asked if I could come there. I had not yet parked my car in town so I turned around and headed for the hospital. As I drove I wondered what had happened to him. I have known China for as long as I have lived here. He lived a large portion of his life in a shelter in town. He is an example of a kid that truly does not have “much” to go to at “home”. His mother passed away years ago, and he really does not have any relatives in Cape Town that are capable of taking care of him. I saw him become frustrated after years of staying in the shelter and at one point he ran away.

I found him in Cape Town spoke with him. As stubborn and naughty as he could be, he was unlike the other kids on the streets. He was not hardened like the others and did not use and hard drugs or glue. He stood out. I wondered how long that would last on the streets. I spoke to him about coming off the streets and as much as he wanted to, he expressed feelings of “stagnancy” at the place he had been staying, and wanted to move on to “greater” things. I told him I would look around. Most of the other homes said they would not take a child “straight from the streets” and he had to be referred from a shelter. I was not able to find anything for him, and he therefore had to go back to the place where he had been staying. One of the things that had frustrated him was many of the other kids went home for the weekends and holidays and he did not have anywhere to go. I spoke to the social worker and said that I would be his “guest family” if they would take him back. It was a deal.

Part of the deal was that he would be transferred to a more “home-like” environment as soon as possible. Time went on and he visited my house for some weekends and most holidays. He seemed to remain positive. Unfortunately, soon after that a new social worker came. She did not show much passion in finding a new place for China and also clashed with his stubbornness that others knew well. She also felt that he should not visit me as often because I was not his “family”. They made contact with some of his relatives in Eastern Cape and he went to stay there for a while. He apparently got into trouble there and ended up back in Cape Town. And to make a long story short, he has been in and out of homes and jail ever since. He still occasionally calls from time to time, but until today I had not seen him for about two years.

I arrived at Groote Schuur Hospital, walked down the long corridor, took the lift up to Level F and saw the sign for F8, where China said he was. As I walked in I noticed that there were not many patients in the beds. Just as I was walking up to reception to inquire about China I saw him laying on a bed waving at me. I walked over to his bed. A group of nurses gathered and looked at me in disbelief, that turned into smiles, as they asked, “Are you Ryan??”. I said yes. I found out later that he had told them that I was “family”. That explained the reactions they had when they saw me! I greeted China. He had on a blue hospital gown, an eye patch, a hair net looking thing, and his face was swollen quite a bit. He said he was discharged. Without even knowing why he was there I said, “Ok, let’s go!”.

He said his clothes were covered in blood. I looked at the plastic bag next to his bed and his wadded up shirt and jeans were inside…caked in blood! There was barely a speck of fabric that did not have blood on it! The nurses said there was nothing they could do and he would just have to put on those clothes. I decided to go check in my car for something. Fortunately, I had an old pair of jeans and a hoodie in the boot. I went back up to F8 and gave China the clothes. He put them on and we were on our way. On the way out he told me what had happened. The last time he got out of jail he decided that he had had enough of that lifestyle. He decided to go “home”. But he said that he was not exactly sure where that was. He went to live with his brother in an area called Philippi. This specific area of Philippi is one of the rougher areas and his older brother is a product of that environment: ROUGH! He drinks copious amounts of alcohol and is up to no good most of the time.

China felt it was better than the street, and he really did not have any other options. He very openly told me that he had not known how to make money, but he didn’t want to get “back into crime”, so he just decided to sell ganja on a small level. Yeah, I also found a bit of humor in that too, but understood what he meant by “crime”. So he has just been living with his brother, and selling ganja on a small level to make money to be able to eat and survive. The other night he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. His next door neighbor’s house got broken into and some things were stolen and he was seen walking by. He said to me himself that even he is not “stupid enough” to break into his next door neighbor’s house, and on top of that he said he was through with that lifestyle. The neighbors did not believe him. So they grabbed him and locked him in a room. Then they took turns throwing beer bottles at him and beating him. He said he tried to reason with them, talk to them, but they would not listen. Guilty before proven innocent! They continued to beat him and pelt his face with beer bottles and then they left him there to bleed.

He walked away from the house, dripping in blood. Other community members came to his assistance. They called the ambulance which surprisingly came not too long after that. He slept alone in the hospital during Christmas and said his mind was “not really working properly” (probably from the shots to the head) until today, when he realized he could call me to come get him. And that he did. We left the Hospital and I got him some clean clothes, brought him to my house to get cleaned up (his head was encrusted in dry blood), got some food in his belly, and told him that we would “figure everything out” tomorrow. Honestly I don’t know what can be figured out. As I sit here and type he is sleeping on the couch behind me and I feel the same helpless feeling I felt about 6 years ago when I was trying to find another place for him to stay. And now he has missed more school, burned more bridges, and has even fewer places to go. But I told China that many people don’t understand the complexity of the situation of the kids living on and off the streets of Cape Town and I asked him if he would mind me sharing his story, and even show some of these pictures to you. He confidently said, “Do it Ryan! They need to see this!”.

Many of these kids make their “home” on the streets of Cape Town, and Cape Town has their hearts. Cape Town definitely does not have their best interests in mind however; like an abusive lover! For China, Cape Town has caused too much pain in his life and he doesn’t want any more of what the streets have to offer. But unfortunately for China…home is where the hurt is.

(The two pictures above are: China in 2003, & China and Me in 2002)

The doctor said he was lucky he didn't lose sight in his right eye.

He has cuts on both hands from trying to block the blows to his face.

His entire head is full of knocks, bruises and stitched up gashes. This one in particular has puss oozing out for some reason.

Day 32: 26 December - The Password to Happiness

2008-12-26T09:30:00.000+02:00

Today is the 16th day that I have lived in "real life" again. I have been doing allot of thinking lately! I guess going straight into the “Holiday Season”, after spending 16 days living on the streets will do that to a guy! Anyways, I have been thinking a lot about happiness. And not really “happiness” in the form of a shallow emotion that comes and goes. When I speak about “happiness” in this context I am talking about a deeper, more ongoing “reality” that an individual lives, or doesn’t live, in. I look around and see so many unhappy people. It really saddens me! I wonder if they realize that we are only given one life? And every day that they walk around with that disgruntled look on their face, looking at and treating others with disgust, is a precious day gone by…wasted.

One thing I have realized is that being “happy” comes easier, and more naturally, for some than it does for others. Some people really struggle being happy! It is a true battle for them. On the other hand, I look at myself, and I am not trying to brag, but I find it very easy to be happy and content on a day to day basis. I can actually enjoy the seemingly smallest of tasks, or things that others may not find excitement in because of my outlook; I seek out “happiness” in every situation. It might sound arrogant to speak about myself in this way but it is nothing that I can take credit for! We are all products of our upbringing and environment. I am no different. And I can see where this “outlook” started for me…with my family.

There are many people that had an influence on molding me, and my outlook on life; from my mother who continuously sent the message that “life is not always fair” to my great uncle who told me “adversity is what you will remember and learn the most from”, I can see how my little head and heart was being filled with positively, but a grounding sense of reality, from a young age. But there are two people who played an enormous role in my “outlook”. Two people who lived out “happiness” on an uncompromising, regular and consistent basis! Those two people are my grandparents on my mother’s side, Grandmom and Papa.

There is so much that we take for granted as young people. As we get older we start to look back at those things, take stock, and are able to give them the true value they deserve. I look back at the “things” that Grandmom and Papa gave me, the things that they instilled in me, both directly and indirectly, advertently and inadvertently, and I am so thankful for them and the role they have played in loving and shaping me! Though I know much of their “life lessons” were intentional, they may never know the things I picked up from them, merely by observing, and being in their presence, watching them love life with all their hearts and love each other with more than that.

You see, happiness is a choice, and no one has it perfect all the time, and I know that my grandparents had their own struggles for happiness at one point in their lives, but in my life time they made it seem effortless. They have a way of finding joy in the most mundane situation, and appreciating the most “ordinary” of things. Whether it was a long road trip stuck in a car, with Grandmom deliriously singing songs to keep us entertained, or a meal where Papa told us, “Now, we are not in a rush…”, as he savored every second of dinner conversation and every bite of his food. They both have an amazing passion for life, people, culture and traveling that is most definitely contagious!

We have traveled far and wide with them! And every trip was like a treasure hunt, squeezing every last drop of culture, fun and excitement that a destination had to offer; an even balance of doing the “touristy” things but also experiencing “life of the locals”…sometimes as the locals. Life lessons were never scarce on these trips! And maybe without even knowing it, or even appreciating it at the time, I took it all in!! Every drop of it! I soaked it up! And I learned so many things, but most importantly was the importance of enjoying life. Not merely living to “get by”, but finding beauty, humor and joy in every situation. Seeking out culture, life lessons, and wisdom in every person I come across. Looking for history, art, and magnificence in every place that I visit.

That is what Grandmom and Papa do every day, whether they are at home or traveling in some far off land! They have a standard, and that standard is love; love for each other, love for others, love for life…Grandmom used to always say that “LUUUUUUV” (said with her thick southern accent) is the “password”. So if we were on vacation and we went out of the place we were staying and she stayed behind, on our return, when we knocked at the door, she would come to the other side and ask for the password, knowing exactly who was on the other side. We would respond by saying “love”. And she would open the door and greet us with hugs, kisses and smiles. Now I realize that love is the password! It is not some silly thing that Grandmom used to do! Love is the key to happiness. It is the password!

So many people fight their whole lives to achieve “happiness”, and they are miserable the entire journey. They overlook opportunity after opportunity to love…life, themselves and others. They cannot find joy in the journey because they are too focused on where they are trying to get to. Others base their “happiness” on what, or how much, they have… their things. Never realizing that without a sense of true gratefulness and contentment with life, those “things” will only make the void bigger; because there will always be newer and better “things” out there. My grandparents taught me that it is important to dream and wish for bigger and better things for myself, but it is even more valuable to enjoy the “ride” on the way to achieving those things, savoring every second of the journey. They taught me the importance of finding the good, and “fun”, in every situation, no matter how dreary or “ordinary” that situation may be.

My grandparents taught me the importance of love. I do not know a couple that love each other more than they do! I equally do not know individuals that love life, and the people that are in their lives, more than they do. A perfect example was when they called me on Christmas Eve. I was talking to my grandmother and she said (like a true Southern Bell), “Oh wait, hold on a second Ryan (short pause)…Ok, I just had to wave at the UPS man. He just walked by. His name is…”. I actually don’t remember what she said his name was, but what I do know is she knows it. She made a point to know it, just like she made a point to wave and smile at him when he walked by! And that is one tiny example of spreading love and happiness that I learned from Grandmom; another example that she is not even aware that I even took note of. There are thousands, if not millions, of other examples in “happiness” I have learned from Grandmom and Papa!

I now know that if you put value in the right “things” in life (people, experience, culture, life itself…), happiness and contentment is inevitable! It is important to find humor in every situation; it is extremely important to laugh regularly! It is important to “eat slow” and savor every bit of the experience. It is just as important to find excitement and fun in the “journey” as it is at the “destination”; and really, on earth, no destination is “final”. It is important to soak up every single morsel that life has to offer. It is important to seek out lessons in life; they are all around us, but we are not always listening and learning! It is important to bring a smile and a hug into most situations. It is important to find value in the simplest of things. It is important to fight for happiness. But most importantly, it is important to love. Love is the password to happiness.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Day 29: 23 December - These Streets

2008-12-23T18:23:00.000+02:00

Day 28: 22 December - All Men Stumble

2008-12-22T10:06:00.000+02:00

I know i have been a bit lazy when it comes to writing the past week or so. Sorry for that! I think the laid back "holiday spirit" of Cape Town has taken over! But i still wanted to post something every now and then. So i thought i would post my "All Men Stumble" music video. Check it out:

In Cape Town

2008-12-21T21:00:00.000+02:00

i hope to contribute as much as i can to this cause and i was touched in the afternoon as i passed through a children safety home called Ons pl... i am not good in Africans,but its around Gardens and there was three or four kids on the streets.they asked the guy i was walking with,Ephriam,"where is Linzi,hey look i have new shoes",the five year old innocently showed off the while warn out takkies apparently donated by a well wisher.Xmas.I was so touched with it that i thanked the whoever thought of bringing a smile to the kid.

Am so tired,i will start the posts tomorrow.

Day 25: 19 December

2008-12-19T23:55:00.001+02:00

Day 24: 18 December - Locked Up

2008-12-18T10:07:00.000+02:00

I have had the same land line phone number for the past 8 years. So many random people know it, but mostly the kids...or the older guys that used to be kids. In the first few years i was here i would get about two to six calls a day from the streets; telling me someone had been stabbed, someone was in trouble, someone was arrested, but much of the time just calling to say "hi". Many of the kids knew my number out of memory, and others walked around with it in their pocket. After all these years there are now a select few that still remember my number and call regularly. One thing that i have noticed is that most of the calls i get these days are not from the streets, but rather from different juvenile facilities.

The past two mornings i have received calls from Pollsmoor Prison Juvenile section. Pollsmoor is really the worst place a young person can end up in Cape Town. There are a group of guys there that all strolled in town but are now locked up for various reasons. They call fairly regularly. Usually about once a week. One of them that knows my number will tell the guys he is going to call me and a group of all my buddies from Cape Town will gather around the phone and take turns speaking. Yesterday was funny because it was the first time i had spoken to them since i had spent 16 days on the streets. They had heard about it and were all interested how it went, what i did, if i begged for money, if people gave it to me, where i slept, and so on. They all said they wish they could have seen it, and some of them said they went to court in town during my 16 days and heard about how i was doing from others that came by the court.

Today two of the guys brought their friends to the phone to speak to me. The one kid, who they call Whitey, got on the phone and said, "Is this Ryan?".

"Yep. Is this Whitey?"

He laughed, "Yeah. I have heard allot about you. These guys are always talking about you."

"That's nice. I hope it's not bad stuff!"

He laughed and confirmed that it was not. "They say you rap."

"A little bit."

Without missing a beat he said, "They say you make movies!"

I laughed, "Well, i have never made a movie but i have made a couple of music videos. Where do you come from?"

"Bellville."

"Bellville South?"

"Yep."

"Do you know Louwellen?"

"Yeah, we live on the same street."

We then chatted a bit about Louwellen, Bellville South and then i asked him about his case. Whitey is in for "armed robbery", which he really did do, but he has still not been sentenced and has been in Pollsmoor for more than two years! There were a couple of things that stood out to me in talking to Whitey. One, was what a respectable young man he was over the phone. He spoke to me with respect and seemed to have a genuinely kind heart. This does not mean he should get off easy for the things that he has done, but also realising that these youngsters are often products of their environments is important; so if they are raised by the "streets" they will act like it, but if they have people to see the goo din them and nurture that, they will feed off of it. The other thing that stood out was something that i have seen time and time again. Whitey has sat two year in prison! TWO YEARS!! Think back on all that you have done in the past two years and imagine spending that time in jail. But not only in jail but only AWAITING being sentenced because the court messed up and there is a "problem with the evidence".

This happens all too often in the South African "justice" system, most especially when it comes to minors! And i see it is one piece of the complex puzzle that holds these kids in this lifestyle. Because often they are arrested, and then much of the time they sit for prolonged periods of time, for different reasons (social workers can't get a hold of guardians, missing evidence, can't find others that are also in the case, etc.), only to become more frustrated, also getting more involved in gang activity, only to come out even more hardened than before. And a case like Whitey shows that it not only happens with kids from the streets, but also kids that commit crimes in the communities. This is an area where we need to see more focus.

Many people are happy when the "trouble making" youth are just locked up; out of sight out of mind! But i assure you, though they are out of sight for a time period, if they do not receive justice they deserve, coupled with true rehabilitation, they will return to society being worse than before. So even though they might be out of sight for now, we need to keep them in mind, and even make them our priorities, for the good of our future and theirs!

Dankie Ryan

2008-12-17T18:11:00.000+02:00

Ryan.

A big dankie from me and all the boys at The Homestead. Although its sometimes believed that children make the choice to live on the streets there are many out there who want to come off but cant because they are trapped in a self destructive cycle which society cannot get them out of unless they commit a crime (how ironic).... although allowing them to be on the streets is a crime in itself. Anyways you have made a big push toward helping the bonanis and we salute you man. One of the things that is remarkable when reading you thoughts is the importance of strengthening the sense of belonging within any family....because as you said that if they not going to get it at home they will try and find it somewhere else.So apart from creating awareness about the crime of allowing kids to live on the street you also highlighted the importance and the responsibility we have within our own family as charity begins at home. I spoke to one of the boys the other day who had lost both his parents living on the streets. I asked him about his mother and the relationship they shared, he went on to tell me how that she drank most of the time but above all that he said that he knew that she cared because 'sy het my dan skoene gekoep' (she even bought me shoes) So if this simple thing meant so much to a little boy lets not neglect the lesson about our responsibilty to care in the simple ways.

Ryan keep pressing and you are a hero amongst the boys at the shelter.

Thanks man.

Day 22: 16 December - Happy Birthday Bones

2008-12-16T08:30:00.000+02:00

Bones turned 28 yesterday. He has been on the streets, and in and out of jail, for as long as he can remember. During me 16 days we spoke and he said this would be the first birthday he would spend "outside", that he could remember. He had his fingers crossed. I took him a cake to mark this momentous occasion. I walked up to the Parade actually expecting to hear that he had just been arrested the night before...or something like that. But that wasn't the case. He was there. I gave him the cake and he seemed to be having a good birthday. It just really made me think...

Imagine turning 28 and not being able to remember spending a birthday outside of jail. He ran to the streets and began his "life of crime" at a very young age. At an age when he should have been protected from those things. At an age when he should have been guided and lead into good decisions. Instead, he partook in criminal activities that many grown adults shy away from; and that was before the age of 12! Now he is left with thousands of unwanted memories he cannot block out, gang tattoos that won't come off, blood on his hands that he can't wash off, and one birthday that he can proudly say he did not spend in jail. Let's hope it gets better from here. Let's hope we are able to make a greater impact on the "Bones" of the future...BEFORE their 28th birthday! Happy Birthday Bones!

Social Services Let me down

2008-12-15T15:29:00.001+02:00

This is an incident which happened in the beginning of October:
It involves 2 young children who are living on the streets with their parents.
When I first met them the father was walking around Observatory sending his 7 year old son to beg door to door. We got involved in a discussion about the well being of the child and he admitted to not being in a position to care for the child. He ended up leaving the child with me. The boy waited with me inside the hall while I attended to some necessary
matters. He then returned with the child's mother and a 5 year old girl and asked me if I could take the girl as well. As I am in no position to look after 2 small children I called up the emergency social work services to try and get them placed in a suitable place.
Rene (the social worker) suggested that we meet at Mowbray Police station, which we all did. I was not at all happy with the way she dealt with the situation. It seems she is unable to be polite or speak to people in a respectful way and after a lengthy discussion with the parents, who were very willing to give the children away she refused to place them. She warned the parents that if they do it again the children will be removed, the father responded that we could take them there and then, Rene said that she would not allow them to abdicate responsibility and wouldn't take them. I understand that the children were not in immediate danger but I dont see the reason for delaying an intervention into their lives. Rene's reasoning was that the children have been living outside all their lives and therefore they should be fine to continue doing it, she also told me that there are many children living in adverse circumstances and she can't just help them all (or something to that effect). In the end I had to take the entire family to the place where they sleep under a bridge in Salt River. The disappointment on the children's faces was evident and they did not want to go with their parents. It broke my heart to insist that they could not come with me.
I then discovered that ACVV (contracted to provide social work services on behalf of the dept) are fully aware of these children and have been taking them to creche a few times a week. I am not satisfied that this is all that the department is prepared to do for them. Some people think that the best place for a child is with thier parents, I don't, and neither do these kids. They are in their current situation because of bad choices made by their parents. At their young age they are already aware that their opportunities are limited and are desperate for help but if the Dept of Social Services is unwilling to... where else can they turn?

A little Christmas Activism Humor

2008-12-15T14:04:00.000+02:00

Activism is not new to Ryan (Brown). He had an activist heart from day 1! As a matter of fact, when he was about 5, he decided that he had a solution to the homeless problem in the US. He wrote a letter to President Ronald Reagan and told him that if he would just collect $1 from each person in the US he would have enough money to buy houses for the homeless. He included his $1 in the letter. The "president" sent a response thanking him for his letter, but returning the $1 because the White House could not accept cash. So, when Eli, his baby brother came along 15 years after that event, it wasn't surprising that he had the same heart. Now Ryan has been in SA all of Eli's life and their other brother, John (aka Bibby to Eli) was at college so Eli has been virtually an only child. Anyway, one day when he was 5, I dropped Eli off for swim team practice at the local YMCA. When I got back to pick him up he was waiting for me at the door with great excitement. He said "Mom, come look at this!!" and he drug me over to see an Angel Tree that had been placed in the lobby. For anyone that doesn't know, it has paper angels with childern's names, ages, sizes and a gift they would like for Christmas and you select one to fulfill the wishes. He said "I want to do this!!!" He was so excited and I was just as excited to see his "activist heart" in action. He said, "I have already picked one that's a 5 year old boy. All we have to do is take it to the lady at the counter, and the best part that you won't believe is....all of the kids are FREE!!!" That's when it dawned on me.....he thought we were taking home a 5 year old brother for him! I suppose he thought the lady at the counter had them lined up back there ready to go home with us. He was crestfallen when he found out the truth, but nonetheless, we took an angel and filled his wishes. You just have to be careful out there in the "activist world" though because as Ryan and Eli can tell you, it's full of disappointments along with the joy! Merry Christmas!
Ryan, John, and Eli's mom :)

"letters to my son"

2008-12-15T11:45:00.000+02:00

"to be a real traveler you must be willing to give yourself over to the moment and take yourself out of the centre of your universe. you must believe totally in the lives of the people and the places where you find yourself, even if it causes you to lose faith in the life you left behind. you need to share with them, participate with them. sit at their tables, go to their streets. struggle with their language. tell them stories of your life and hear the stories of theirs. watch how they love each other, how they fight each other. see what they value and what they fear. feel the spaces they keep in their lives. become part of the fabric of their everyday lives and you will get a sense of what it means to live in their world. give yourself over to them--embrace them rather than judge them--and you will find that the beauty in their lives and their world will become part of yours."

--kent nerburn, 'letters to my son'

'Nuisances' by-law targets the homeless - Raffaella Delle Donne in Weekend Argus, August 2007

2008-12-15T10:40:00.000+02:00

In the same week that thousands of blankets were distributed to shelters and charity organisations as part of Radio Good Hope’s blanket drive, a homeless man claims that his wife died of exposure after being arrested and having her blanket confiscated. That’s the third homeless person, in and around, the city this month. Despite opposition by a number of NGOs including the Homestead, Sweat and the Big Issue, the recently passed By-law on Streets, Public Places and Prevention of Nuisances has already has begun to impact negatively on destitute people living on the streets of Cape Town. “The police just come here and take our blankets and tell us we must go”, claims Rasta who lived with the recently deceased Anna and her husband Elvis on Fort Wynyard Rd behind the V&A Waterfront for over 10 years.

According to Pam Jackson, Director of Ons Plek, a home for street children, there is a long history of police harassment of homeless people. “Dating back to the apartheid era, this kind of harassment has happened in the past” she reveals, “but I fear that the By-law has ushered in a new era of harassment”. Her sentiments are echoed by Sandra Morreira, Director of the Homestead and chairperson of the Western Cape Street Children’s Forum which was also part of the NGO task team opposed to the new By-law, “Harassment is happening anyway, our concern has always been that the intention of the By-law may be good but the problem comes in when it is implemented on the ground.”

Although Insp. Bernadine Steyn of the SAPS could confirm that that Sea Point Police conducts operations, or what Nowellen Petersen of Metro City Police describes as “interventions”, in conjunction with other law enforcement agencies on a regular basis, she denies that blankets have been confiscated. “During the past three weeks several integrated operations have been conducted and several people have been arrested for specific crimes, for example, trespassing. We want to state it clearly that no SAPS member confiscate any blankets as mentioned during the operations.” Heather Teger who is on the board of directors of the Sea Point City Improvement District also denies allegations that the Sea Point CID are involved along with Metro Police and SAPS in arresting people sleeping on the streets and confiscating blankets. “We have never confiscated blankets”, she says adamantly, adding, “We are very humane in our approach but we are not there to protect people who commit crimes”. However Pam Jackson of Ons Plek claims that blankets are being confiscated: “I know from a reputable source that this is happening and that two people have died as a result.”

Under the new “Prevention of Nuisances” By-law, begging and sleeping on the streets is illegal and, essentially, it criminalizes poverty which means that homeless people are resorting to hiding from police and organisations such as the Sea Point Community Police Forum in order to avoid being arrested. “People don’t want to come out of the building because they are scared of the police. That’s why people get sick in there” says Rasta pointing to an abandoned, derelict building next to Somerset Hospital. When Rasta takes me inside the building I can see why some have opted to brave the wet, cold nights and sleep on the roof of the building to the avoid the regular “integrated operations”. The rooms of the building are strewn with rubbish and the stench of human faeces is unbearable. “There is nothing in the By-law that says you can confiscate blankets. It is very inhumane – people are dying of exposure,” says Sandra Morreira, “these actions illustrate the problem of inappropriate implementation”.

The NGO Task Team which has made representation to Helen Zille, the Mayor of Cape Town and DA councillor J.P. Smith, chairperson of the Safety and Security Portfolio Committee, are concerned that the By-law targets the practices of the poor and marginalized: “It does not make sense to arrest and fine people for trying to keep warm, cook food and create a shelter for themselves when there is clearly a huge backlog in housing and people are homeless and forced to squat.” In a letter to the NGO Task Team, J.P. Smith has defended the By-law claiming that it is “one of the most progressive pieces of local government legislation in South Africa.” He points out that Cape Town, unlike Johannesburg and Durban, has not outlawed begging altogether. Smith claims that the By-law only prohibits “aggressive” begging and states that, “no person shall continue to beg from a person or closely follow a person after the person has given a negative response to such begging”.

However, the NGO Task Team have argued that what is problematic about the By-law is that it allows for individual discretion to decide exactly what constitutes an offence such as “aggressive” begging, which could lead to abuse and corruption. Pam Jackson of Ons Plek says that although “street people do their fair share of annoying and irritating people” to her “the By-law reflects a hardening of hearts towards street people”. The NGO Task Team believe that to arrest, charge and fine people for behaviour that is the result of social and economic hardships and destitution is not what Cape Town should be known for. “We believe that the city can deal more effectively with the issue of homelessness and people who live and work on the streets by developing a comprehensive strategy to provide them with viable alternatives” state the NGO Task Team in a written statement that outlines its recommendations for tackling the social problems of poverty and unemployment. For the homeless community sleeping on Fort Wynyard Rd, it is understandable why the Western Cape’s slogan “A Home for All” seems questionable. “I want to ask them why they don’t take the rubbish away in this street but they take us away”, implores Rasta, “we are the rubbish.”

Day 20: 14 December

2008-12-14T09:27:00.000+02:00

Day 19: 13 December - Let the Pictures Paint the Words

2008-12-13T16:31:00.000+02:00

I don't have much to say today. It was Kleintjie's birthday so i went to town to take him a birthday cake. I wonder how many birthdays he will spend on the streets. Through the years i have seen many of these children grow up right before my eyes...on the streets. Jerome is one of those kids. I saw this picture that Tina, a friend of mine, took of me and Jerome (during my 16 days on the streets), and i remembered a picture that i had of him from when i first moved here. If we do not stop children from running to the streets we will continue to see them grow up there. I will stop talking here and let the pictures speak on...

Jerome - October 2000

Jerome - December 2008

Day 18: 12 December - Belonging

2008-12-12T16:49:00.000+02:00

Yesterday was so strange. I felt like i was in a dream. I was very quiet for most of the day. I just didn't have all that much to say. But i had allot going on in my head and heart! I had no idea that i would struggle adjusting back to "normal" life. But it is tough. I have always "known" and "understood" street life; mostly from an intellectual point of view. I mean, i have seen it, experienced it through the kids, and even walked beside them in their struggles. Even before these 16 days i think i had a greater understanding for street life than the average person. Whatever average is. But those 16 days gave me the opportunity, and privilege, to FEEL street life. And that i did!

So likewise, over the past eight years i have seen and understood causal factors of kids being on the streets. I see, what are known as the "push" factors, that lead them to leave their communities (poverty, abuse, no sense of belonging, etc.). I also see the "pull" factors, that suck the kids into the street lifestyle and hold them hostage (drugs, freedom, belonging, etc.). I saw and understood those things. I understood that a kid coming from a community where he is not looked after, and maybe does not feel like he has a place to "belong" can find that belonging on the streets, experiencing real "family". But i always underestimated that aspect. Probably merely because i had never felt it on the level i have now. I mean, i have always had extremely close relationships with the kids on the streets. I could not have imagined them being much closer! But these 16 days showed me a total other level of human relation and interaction.

When you literally depend on each other for basic survival, watch out for each other, break bread together, share close interactions, protect each other, stand up for each other, live in close and continuous communion, and literally spend every waking (and sleeping) hour of the day with one another, you build bonds that i have never found in the "real" world! It takes a relationship to a whole other level of closeness. Before the 16 days i experienced a since of belonging with friends and family; they are all great! So i can only imagine how it must be for a child, who has never experienced a family or belonging before going to the streets, and then came into these relationships that i have just explained. I can now see what a strong hold that aspect, and that aspect alone, can have on a child! I can see how it can hold them captive! Unfortunately, though they experience close bonds, there is a negative side of this "family" and through them the child suffers drug use, abuse of different forms, and other wrongs.

I went to town today and visited everyone. Every single person, from shop keepers to people from the streets, greeted me with the same smile and similar comments; about how clean i looked, how the beard is gone, how the "old Ryan" is back, and so on. But they all also looked at me with a pride in what i had accomplished. Some of them verbalized it. Wise was one of those people. He simply said, "What you did was a great thing.". I do not say that to bring attention to myself because i only did what i thought i was supposed to do. But i mention it to draw attention to the ongoing support that i have received from my "street" family. And though it was a bit strange seeing them today, knowing that i would return home again, i know that they respect what i did, and know that i will continue to fight on their behalf, walk along side them, and they will continue to be my family...even if it looks a little different than it did for the 16 days.

Day 17: 11 December - 365 Days of Activism

2008-12-11T09:54:00.000+02:00

Yes, day 17. The 16 days of activism have come and gone; my 16 days on the streets joining them on their coming and going. From here on out is where it becomes more and more important to continue to carry the torch and continue to speak out against violence towards women and children, and other injustices in society. We are not bound to speak out about HIV/AIDs awareness on "AIDs Day", we should not only be concerned about our youth on "Youth Day", and 16 Days of Activism is not enough to speak out about violence towards women and children, most especially when it is so prevalent in our society, and the world at large! Let us not get stuck in the emotion, excitement and trend of a "holiday" or a set of days like 16 Days of Activism, in that we jump on the bandwagon on speaking out against these atrocities for that time and that time only. Let us speak out against these things every day of the year!

Last night I had the privilege of speaking at a "discussion" group that meets in a very nice restaurant called Doppio Zero. Wise Guy and I were pretty much the first people to arrive and we both sat down and basked in the contrast of street life and that fancy restaurant environment that we found ourselves in. Wise said he had just passed by it with a friend the other day and as they looked in the window from outside he made a comment about the "rich people" in there. He laughed about the fact that he was now sitting there, and wondered what the people passing by thought of him. The venue was an ironic and harsh contrast to my 16 Days, and my filthiness made that statement loud and clear, but it was also amazing that Danny, the owner of the restaurant, had made his business open and available for an event like that.

People began to show up, both familiar and unfamiliar faces. I was thrilled to see the diversity of people that came; Joe Seremane (Federal Chairman of the DA political party), some of my brothers and sisters from the streets, some "business people", friends, and strangers. It was an honour to get to spend time with Mr. Seremane! As people were still arriving he sat beside me and said he would not "spoil what is to come" by asking me questions though he was curious. I asked him if i could ask him questions. He said i could for only 10 dollars per question. I offered him all that was left in my pocket: 50 cents and he said that would do and he would put it in a bond with 12 % interest. He spent six years on Robbyn Island with other political prisoners during the Apartheid, and then another 28 months in solitary confinement in another prison. He said that the 6 years were nothing compared to the 28 months that he spent all by himself, alone with nothing but his own thoughts and conversations to entertain him. He said he had to become "insane" to stay sane; he spoke to flies that visited him, took long walks around his cell envisioning he was walking from Cape Town to other far off cities, and came up with a range of poems and songs. It was amazing to be in his company! He has incredible wisdom, insight and humility. I wish he was our president (he was the DA's candidate against Kgalema Motlanthe)!

When it was time for me to speak i felt a lump in my throat. I stood up and before i could even open my mouth i felt tears coming on. I guess i had been holding them back over the past 16 days and they were dead set on getting out. I think i spoke for about 15 or 20 minutes, but really have no concept of the time. I do know that majority of what i said was through a quivery voice. I had to stop at times to try and gain composure so people could even understand what i was saying. I felt like a little girl! But i also realised that my experience over the 16 days was moving for me, but also broke my heart all over again, for the people that i care the most about in Cape Town! I also noticed that my eyes were not the only wet eyes in the room, and i felt comforted by that. After i finished i sat back down beside Wise Guy and he pulled me over and hugged me and showed his overwhelming approval for what i had said. He had tears in his eyes but was trying to push them back.

We all hung out and ate together, and eventually the streets were calling Wise's name and he was curious as to what was going on at the flower stand. He snuck out without telling anyone but me, and i walked with him to the door. It was strange knowing that he was going back to the flower stand and i was going back to my flat in Muizenberg. It felt strangely wrong but i knew that it was the way it had to be, for now. I hugged him and thanked him for everything he had done; his role in the 16 days was incredibly huge! I told him i would miss him. He expressed the same sentiments with his eyes welling up with tears and then said, "I can't talk about this right now! I don't want to..." he made gestures pointing to his eyes, saying he did not want to cry. With a quivery voice he told me that i should go back in because people really wanted to talk to me in there. We hugged again and i watched him walk away; both of us pushing back tears, but Wise doing a better job.

Last night was very emotional for me. It is really strange because i don't cry much. There are sometimes when i want to cry but i can't! Last night was not one of those times! As the night came to an end and we said our goodbyes, i felt tears coming on again as i walked to our car with my wife Ashley. I think i cried the entire drive home. It is hard to explain. Even now i am sitting here typing like a little baby, with snot running out my nose and tears rolling down my face! When we got to our flat i took off my shoes, peeled off my socks that had not come off for the past 16 days, shed the rest of my clothes, shaved my face and head, and then took a warm shower. My feet were covered in dirt and what seemed to be mildew! I had to scrub three times over to remove all the dirt from my body. I dried off and put on my clean "pajamas" and got into my soft, warm bed not long after that. I think i fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow!

This morning i woke up at about 9:00. I didn't have to worry about getting up before flower sellers came into my room. I was able to immediately get up and give relief to my full bladder, and didn't have to wait until the public toilet opened, or walk to Long street. I walked over to the coffee pot and poured coffee, and didn't have to walk to the Parade and give Anwar 3 of my hard earned rand from the night before. I sat down in from of my own computer and began checking all my various sites, without having to walk all the way to Long Street to the Internet cafe where i wrote my blogs. And though i had told myself that i would take today off and take it easy, my mind is already racing as to what i am going to do today...but mostly racing with curiosity about what is going on with my family that live on the streets that i called home for 16 days!

Day 17: 11 December - NEWS 24

2008-12-11T09:48:00.000+02:00

Check out the News 24 article and video:

Day 16: 10 December - Bonani Update

2008-12-10T08:00:00.000+02:00

I just wanted to give a quick update about Bonani. Because many of you followed up and made calls to various people this case has been properly investigated. Claire Jones contacted someone at the DA and they investigated the case by looking at the CCTV camera footage. As i mentioned in the blog, they saw that Bonani was not without fault. But as i said in the blog, it still does not justify him getting beaten like that, much less tear gassed and doused with water. They also saw some of Bonani's injuries could have come from a random drunk lady who was involved in the scene. They are going to give the one security officer in charge an interview with a polygraph to see if he is telling the truth about his account of what happened. I just wanted to make "right" and say that the CCID may not be responsible for 100% of the injuries. However, he was in fact tear gassed and soaking wet with water and that had to come from somewhere so they are not all together innocent either. Plus this type of violence is a regular occurrence between the security guards and the kids, and it has to be stopped! Thank you so much for your support!! This case might not have been investigated so thoroughly had you not have made calls and emails! I will keep you updated on any information i get. Thanks!

Day 16: 10 December - Not Yet

2008-12-10T07:41:00.000+02:00

I want to start off by thanking everybody who came out last night! I was very impressed with the turnout, and the quality of people! Average members of the public, people from various NGO's, a member of Parliament, a child's rights lawyer, journalists, and even a few people representing the streets. It was amazing to see how this diverse group came together and united for this cause! We hung out and got to know each other a bit and then we went out to the traffic lights. The groups held signs, handed out fliers, spoke to people in the cars, chanted all sorts of things, and really stood up for the rights of children living on the streets to be protected. About half of the group went home after that, because of various commitments, but the rest of the group slept right there in the grass in the middle of Buitengracht Street. It was a great evening! Thanks to everyone who came out and showed support, helped spread the word before hand, and all of those who were not there but were with us in spirit!

Yeah...so here i sit. Day 16! I made it. Someone last night told me that they did not think i would make it the entire 16 days. I knew i would. I feel a strange mixture of emotions. A sense of accomplishment but also a deep sadness that it is now coming to an end. Wise Guy slept out by the traffic lights with us last night and so Clare gave us a lift back to the Flower Stand this morning to take his bedding back. It was so strange walking into the flower stand, seeing that some of the "early birds" were already up and out (Wise and i would have been by that point) but the last sleepers were still fast asleep. I cannot even really begin to explain the emotion i felt, but it was strange. I have had amazing experiences over the past 16 days and i cherish every second!

In the 16 days i have seen and learned allot! Over the past 8 years i have seen this stuff time and time again, walked with the kids through it and experienced it with them. But for these 16 days i was able experience it for myself. Feel it myself. This helped me to be a more accurate voice as to what is going on on the streets. 16 days is absolutely nothing in comparison to the years that many of the guys have lived on the streets, but it was definitely a taste. I will continue to do daily updates for the next little bit; informing you as to how i am "fitting back in" to society, how i am coping, what i am experiencing and any other drama i might run into along the way! Thank you for your support and keep checking in on me!

Day 15: 9 December - Time Flies

2008-12-09T07:38:00.000+02:00

I cannot believe it is day 15! Time has flown so quickly!!! At the same time, when i look back to the first days, they seem like ages ago! I have cherished each and every second of this experience, both good and bad. I must say i feel a strange sense of sadness, but I know for me, this 16 Days will not be the end of my fight. I have already fought for 8 years and i will continue on! But maybe this is actually the start of the strategic part of my battle. Now that many of you are "aware" of the situation, i pray and hope that you won't leave it at that. I hope that you will allow the emotions you have felt, when you have read these different experiences, to drive you to do something; join me in my ongoing fight to see justice for these children...put structures in place to allow them to be children again!

Many people have asked me what i hope to "achieve" through spending 16 days on the streets. At the very least, i would like to create an awareness and start a dialogue. A productive dialogue amongst the NGO's involved, and no more politics and meetings with the same talk, no action. A dialogue between the NGO's and government about real, and achievable goals to help get these children off the streets, but with their best interests in mind! A dialogue amongst ALL the role players, including the general public itself, to try and find solutions for these children, instead of seeing them as the "problem"! I would hope that this, and further, awareness would begin to work against the reality that society has accepted children living on the streets as a "norm". I would hope that we would begin to see how strangely wrong, even wicked, it is to allow children to live on the streets. I would hope that the mass majority of people would merely get the revelation that something needs to be done, even if they don't know what that "something" is. And with THAT foundation of awareness, and disdain for the situation, we will have a strong foundation to build up support structure for these children. Until we gain that awareness amongst the masses, there will continue to be cracks in our structures, as their attitudes and actions enable this social ill to continue on and on and on and on and on and on and on and...

So, I am asking anybody and everybody to join me on my last night. We are going to all spend one night on the streets together, to stand together against the fact that children are ALLOWED to live on the streets! Even if you can't stay the entire evening you can still come out and show your support for a moment. Bring friends, family, kids, strangers, and come out tonight and show your support! We are meeting at 20:00 at the bottom of Buitengracht Street in the grassy median just in front of the entrance to the Waterfront (across from the International Convention Centre). Please come out and show your support and try and be there right at 20:00 in case we get chased away. But bring your blankets and be prepared to sleep there! I hope to see you there!!!

Day 15: 9 December - Bonani

2008-12-09T07:25:00.000+02:00

Here are some pics that were taken yesterday morning (please note that these were taken after i made him take off his soaking wet clothes and gave him my hoodie to wear, and after the swelling of his eyes, from the tear gas, had gone down!)...

If you want to call CCID and file a complaint about the way they are treating the children you can contact them at:

Emergency Numbers

CCID Security Manager: 082 453 2942
CCID Deputy Security Manager: 082 442 2112
CCID 24 Hour Number: 082 415 7127
SAPS Control Room (Cape Town): 021 467 8002

bonani...

2008-12-08T20:19:00.000+02:00

two days before...

today after he had been taken for some medical attention...

Day 14: 8 December - Never Appropriate!

2008-12-08T18:10:00.000+02:00

I see my morning blog, about Bonani, got the blood boiling for some of you! And that it should!! Unfortunately, this is quite a regular occurrence. The kids are no angels! Bonani himself was not 100% innocent early this morning. He had done something that deserved being reprimanded, but not beaten. I have talked to many people today about this situation. They all agree that a child should never be beaten like that, no matter what he or she does! I agree, but i would even go as far to say that an adult should not be beaten that way, even if they commit a serious felony, they still deserve to be treated with dignity and have the right not to be beaten, sprayed in the eyes with tear gas and dumped with water! So EVEN MORE so with a kid!! I know they get into trouble. I know they can be naughty beyond belief! But it is never...NEVER acceptable or appropriate to beat them like Bonani was beaten! And as i said, it happens often. Bonani has scars from other encounters.

I will upload pictures later so you can see for yourself; judge for yourself. If you click on Bonani you can see what he looked like before they rearranged his face. (this picture was taken late last week)

It was the CCID Security that beat him, threw him in the back of the security truck with a can of tear gas, and then doused him with water. The CCID, for those that don't know, are the Central City Improvement District. The basically tax the businesses in the CBD and then put that money towards making the CBD a "better" place. One of their biggest challenges are the "vagrants"; most especially the kids. The CCID and I actually have a lot in common! We both want to see a day where there are no children living on the streets of Cape Town. Unfortunately, they have the best interest of business and tourism in mind. I have the best interest of the CHILDREN in mind!! They will never succeed. What they don't realise is they are creating more and more enemies. Because they pick up the kids and drop them in far off places, only for them to return more angry. They arrest the kids for petty cases, only for the kids to come out of jail better criminals. They try and beat the kids away, only creating children with more battle wounds to avenge.

I would not want the security guards' jobs for one second! I know it must be tough!! They have a lot of pressure from above to "get rid of the kids". They don't know what to do with them. So they act stupidly. As i said, i would not want their job. But they HAVE their job, and they should do it properly. It is unconstitutional to treat people the way they do. They should be taken before the constitutional court. And i just might!!!!

Chapter 2: Section 38 Enforcement of Rights

Anyone listed in this section has the right to approach a competent court, alleging that a right in the Bill of Rights has been infringed or threatened, and the court may grant appropriate relief, including a declaration of rights. The persons who may approach a court are -

anyone acting in their own interest;
anyone acting on behalf of another person who cannot act in their own name;
anyone acting as a member of, or in the interest of, a group or class of persons;
anyone acting in the public interest; and
an association acting in the interest of its members.

Pains I See

2008-12-08T14:04:00.000+02:00

I got violent emotions everytime i see,hear,read or feel a kid is being abused and all that is cause of what i went through in my childhood.i have just read Ryan's post and i almost banged the computer screen(yeah i mean it),but im someone who has leant how to deal with anger.

YEARS BACK IT WAS ME BEING BULLIED,ABUSED AND DENIED MY RIGHTS.

If a child in the streets does anything bad,does that mean we have to treat him like a little devil?And cops(whoever trains them) will never be human to children living in the streets whether we in mali,India,mexico or S.A.its so horrible that kids go through all this and the perpetrators being the supposed protectors after all.its our attitude towards the kids which makes them behave the way they do sometimes!!If we show them love,will they be rude to us?

i was once stoned by a guy who was in company of two nice ladies and they all atarted giggling,that was 1994 whilst i was living in the streets.Upto this day,i still wonder what made the guy do what he did.funnily i went to hospital and they told me they would not assist me without a police report first.i knew what awaited me at the police and at the end,i had to let the wound heal on its own.ant it was on my head!

2008-12-08T11:21:00.000+02:00

Day 14: 8 December - Enough is Enough

2008-12-08T06:46:00.000+02:00

As i was walking to the Internet cafe this morning i was really at a loss as to what i was going to write about. I have so many different thoughts, experiences and emotions swirling around in my head. I was struggling to piece them together into something that might make since. I had decided to just write a couple of sentences and hope that i had my thoughts together by this afternoon. But then something happened. A few minutes after i sat down at the computer Bonani, one of the small Long Street kids, walked in the door. He did not greet me with his trademark smile however. He quickly walked up to me and as he got closer i could see he was crying. He came close to me and leaned against my side crying. He had a golf ball sized knot over his left eye, with blood dripping from it. I few smaller knots on his forehead, also with cuts on the peaks. As i hugged him i noticed he was soaking wet.

His hands were totally withered like someone who had spent way too long in the bath tub. His eyes were swollen and blood shot; which i later found out was from tear gas. He asked me to contact a social worker because the Security had picked him up and taken him to the police last night. They beat him, sprayed him with tear gas, sprayed him down with water, and beat him some more. He is starving and has not had anything to eat. I do not know what provoked this response from the Security, but i do know that beating a child and spraying him with tear gas is never acceptable! No matter what! I can't write long because he is sitting beside me sleeping, waiting for me to "help" him. I have no cell phone to call for help and only a few rand to buy him something to eat. I wanted to take a minute to write this because this is the kind of story that needs to get out. It is very ironic that such a small child got beat up by the very people who are supposed to be "keeping the peace", WITHIN the 16 days of activism against violence towards women and children!! I say enough is enough!

Day 13: 7 December - A Morning Stroll with a Paedophile

2008-12-07T10:12:00.000+02:00

I left the Internet cafe after i wrote my blog this morning and headed to the Parade to get some breakfast. I got there and bought a "quarter peanut butter" (two thick slices of bread with peanut butter spread in between) and a coke. The sun was already hot, especially on the Parade, so i decided to go to the Company Gardens to eat my breakfast in the peace and coolness of the shade of the gardens. I walked and ate. I wasn't paying much attention to the people i was passing. Only the hungry squirrels and pigeons that jealously looked up at my peanut butter quarter from the ground below. I felt pity for one particular squirrel and pinched off a piece of bread and threw it on the ground before him. He thankfully and desperately grabbed it and ran away. I turned around to watch him scurry away, in the direction i had just came from. And then my eyes fell upon Ben, a seventy year old paedophile that Wise says has been active since he was a kid in town in the 80's! And i got confirmation, the other day in a conversation with a kid, that Ben is in fact still active to this day. I felt my chest get warm. I decided to try and make close contact.

As he approached i greeted him in a friendly way, like friends who haven't seen each other in a long time do, "BEN!!". I saw him reading my face, his brain quickly searching its data base as to where he knew me from. Search is complete. There are no results to display.

"I don't know you?" he said with question and confusion in his voice, and a strange fear on his face.

I chuckled and began walking with him, "Oh no! This is the first time we have officially met. We have mutual friends."

He seemed relieved. "Oh! OK. Nice to meet you."

Not so sure if you would think that if you knew exactly who those friends are, i thought to myself. I looked him in the eyes as i walked and said, "I work with the children that live on the streets here in Cape Town and they say they know you quite well." My tone was neither friendly nor aggressive; monotone.

He assumed they had not told me the "dirt". "Oh yes! I always used to look after them. I am not able to now so much anymore because my pension is not as much as i used to get, but i still do things for them when i can."

Yes, and they do things for you too you sick..., i thought. But i stayed calm. "What exactly do you do for them?", i calmly inquired.

Becoming very comfortable with my company he said, "Oh you know! i buy them things, give them food like fruit and bread."

"And hot dogs!" i sarcastically said. He did not pick up on my sarcasm.

"Sure! Sometimes.". He really does not have a clue. I decided to give him one.

"I hear your relationship with them i quite interesting." My voice was serious, with an undertone of anger. My jaws were clinched and my eyes were piecing. He made eye contact and then looked away as my eyes shot lazer beams through his. He picked up the pace a little bit and and his breathing became a bit heavier. He was not sure how to respond.

Awkwardly he just says, "Yes.".

We passed by one of the kids who greeted me and looked in curiosity as to why i was walking with Ben. Ben picked up on it. I greeted the kid and kept walking with Ben. His anxiety increased. I felt a strange pity for him but i was not going to let him off easy. Yes, he is old, seventy to be exact, but all i could think about is the hundreds, if not thousands, of young lives he has destroyed in those seventy years! "Yeah. I have even seen you on TV if i am not mistaken!" Both of us knowing that i am talking about a Special Assignment episode in which a clip of him is showed; walking outside the court when he was on trial for child sex abuse.

"Yes. A couple of times." It almost seemed as though he was bragging.

Three of the older guys passed by and greeted me with the same looks on their faces as the last kid. They offered to finish off what was left of my peanut butter quarter and coke. I was not entirely finished but was also happy to share. I walked over to them, leaving Ben to walk alone, "I will catch up with you later Ben. I know where you stay!".

Day 13: 7 December - Open House

2008-12-07T08:28:00.000+02:00

When your "house" has no walls it is not so easy to keep out the elements!

Yesterday i went to the Obz Fest. It takes place every year in an area called Observatory; a street festival. I had made enough money on Long Street the night before to be able to take the taxi to and from Observatory. That was a huge relief because the sun was trying to make a statement yesterday! So i went to the Obz Fest and joined my friends who had a Mekasi stall set up. I also scurried around amongst the crowd and handed out fliers. Obz Fest had changed faces this year. In the years before it was a casual, laid back event, free for all, with the entire main road blocked, packed with stalls selling all forms of art, clothing, curios, antiques, hippie paraphernalia, and other random things. There were stages set up on each end of the Festival with free concerts on each end, displaying different genre's and different artists. People from all walks of life passed through; homeless, artists, yuppies, hippies, gangsters, white, black, yellow, light brown, dark brown, fat, skinny...you get the point. This year was different. The stalls were all set up in a particular fenced in area, off the main road; likewise the main stage was on a fenced in field of some sort. This year you had to pay 40 rand to hear the acts on the main stage, and 20 rand to hear the acts on the acoustic stage. This was not possible for a homeless guy like me. I feel like it was against the very heart and spirit of what i have always known the Obz Fest to be. Oh well. Things change i guess.

Anyways. The sun really gave me a pounding yesterday. As i said, it was almost as though the sun had some point to prove; like we had forgotten how powerful it is, and it decided to give us a reminder! By the time i got on the taxi to go back to town i felt like a zombie. It didn't help matters that I had gotten a total of about 7 hours of sleep if you combine the hours i had slept in the two nights prior. My exhaustion caught up to me and the sun took advantage of my vulnerable state! By the time the taxi reached the taxi rank i felt like a lethargic heavy weight boxer, in the thirteenth round of taking hard and heavy blows from his opponent! I saw some of the kids at the rank and they actually asked me if i had smoked heroin, though they know that i don't use drugs. I decided it might be best to just turn in early and go straight to the flower stand.

I sluggishly walked and could hear my feet dragging. As i came near the flower stand, i noticed they were setting up a movie set in my "back yard". It was an American film because they had American flags up, the street was blocked off and filled with American made cars, and other things you might find on the side of a New York street. It was kind of surreal. They didn't ask our permission to film right outside our house! I walked through the New York street and rounded the corner to the flower stand. Everyone greeting me with a smile because they could see how tired i was. I didn't not waste time finding a piece of cardboard and a little spot to relax. I think it was about 6:00 or 7:00 when i laid down. People came in and out, influenced by different drugs they had been using, making for interesting and sometimes nonsensical conversation. Xavier came and laid down beside me and talked for a while, but after about 30 minutes or so he had to get up and go make some money to support his drug habit.

A couple of fights almost broke out between a couple of different guys. A couple of people i don't really even know imposed on my privacy and forced conversation that i was not really in the mood for. And the heat! They heat kept pressing in on me! I could see the sun was starting to go down, but it had made such an impact on the day that it left a residue of heat that just hung in the air through the night; quite an impression! I eventually turned in. People continued to come in and out. I would occasionally hear "Ryan!" as someone would walk past. I could tell by the tone that they were not trying to get my attention but merely greeting. I would reply with closed eyes, in a tired voice, "Yes yeah!" and then fall back into a deep sleep. One thing that stood out to me is that when your house has no walls, it is impossible to keep out the "elements" of all sorts.

I could not go inside my flat and escape the heat, maybe lay on my couch and watch TV. I had to lay in the heat. And though i did not want the rats to chow my ears, i could not bear to put on my cap or put the blanket over my head. As i tried to relax people came in and out, bringing all sorts of different vibes and moods with them. When last were you sitting in your living room on a Saturday afternoon, chilling on the couch, when all of the sudden a guy sniffing glue enters the room, followed by a guy who had just smoked rocks, and in their paranoid state they fight over something only they can understand. You would probably move to a new house or increase your security measure is that happened! I also felt the need to sleep with heightened senses seeing that the guy who had tried to steal my bag the night before was lingering around all night. He had seemed embarrassed about the incident, and didn't seem like he would try it again, but you never know. But i am an adult and it is my choice to live like this right now. It may not even be a choice for some adults that live on the streets.

But children...children should not have the right to make a choice to live in a house with no walls; a house that leaves them vulnerable to all of the "elements". Children have the right to shelter, at least according to the Constitution they do. They have the right to four walls to surround and protect them from the elements and even parents, or "appropriate alternative care", to watch over them and also protect them from these elements, leading them towards good choices and decisions in life. But now, many of our children live in open houses, and the are open to the elements. And these elements have their way way those children!

One million Starfish at a TIME

2008-12-07T01:47:00.000+02:00

Years ago, about eight, I expressed to Ryan, before he became "BROWN", my concern that his focus upon helping one child at a time ignored the systemic disaster. BROWN replied with a metaphor about the hundreds of thousands of starfish stranded upon the sands of his beach as far as the could see. He saw one starfish that showed some small signs of life. He picked it up and threw it back into the sea. A few steps further and the same play unfolded with another starfish being thrown back into the sea. Now Papa, tell those two starfish that since I was not focused on the entire system, my actions did not matter. Touche'!!

Change happens. Person's abilities shift and change. Ryan, your written articulations in this BLOG demonstrates a gift for composition and clear easy expression which will be your tool with which to forcefully correct the systemic problems that you so passionately describe. You will MATTER to the whole system while continuing to show your love for the individual.

PAPA

Day 12: 6 December - The Mother City

2008-12-06T17:45:00.000+02:00

I remember the first time i met you. I was captivated by your personality, drawn by your energy, and wooed by your sense of danger. You are captivating, breathtaking and beautiful, yet have a dark and ugly side. I guess i like the bad girls because your dark side intrigued me. Whilst many come from afar to gaze at your beauty, others come to engage your wild side. You are like no other lady in the world. A mixture of so many things, diverse in qualities and very cultured. You are considered the Mother of all Africa, and have been the gate keeper for many visitors. You are laid back and not in a rush for anything. So slow yet so graceful.

One of the first thing i noticed about you is that you are a mother to runaways. You open yourself to those that society consider to be "strays" and you welcome them whole heartedly. At first glance it seemed as though you really loved and cared for those children; taking them in when no one else would. They seemed to be so happy under your care; so carefree under your supervision. They are mystified by your ways and never want to leave your presence. They become so attached that they often forget about the families they once knew; even their own mothers. You become their mother! They are highly devoted to you and vulnerable in your care. Their lives are in your hands. I thought you loved them.

I thought you loved them. I thought you cared for them. I thought you were so noble and great, taking in and caring for the "least". But the more time i have spent with you, the more i have gotten to know you. You are not a suitable guardian; in fact, no mother at all. You are a fraud and a child abuser! You identify the vulnerable, hurting and rebellious children and seduce them to you. You convince them that the many others in your care are now their family, and you try to make them forget their pasts, their communities, and their families. Like a true predator you entice them with money, food, services, and drugs. You captivate them by introducing a new, addictive way of life and you hold them as prisoners. That is when you really begin to work on them.

You rape them, beat them and rob them of their innocence. You pimp them out to paedophiles and allow the rich to walk all over them. You brainwash them to think that you are all they have...all they want...all they need. And they believe it. You are abusive beyond belief and are even known to turn on one of your "children". You have the blood of many children on your hands. But you continue to laugh and smile for the rest of the world. You put on a face, a front. You try and silence those that speak out against your wrongdoings and you reward those that allow you to continue. You suck every second of life you can out of every child you get your hands on. But they love you. They continue to show their devotion to you. They do not wish to leave you.

But I have seen the truth! You are no mother! You are a fraud!

Day 12: 6 December - So Young but So Old

2008-12-06T07:43:00.000+02:00

Man I am finding it hard to concentrate right now because i have two guys behind me in the Internet cafe that are in a heated discussion, yelling and swearing. They have been at it for the full 29 minutes i have been in here. The one guy is a black man from Zimbabwe. The other guy is a white man from England. I didn't catch the start of the conversation but the Zimbabwean says "all white men are evil and are to blame for the world's problems". The English bloke strongly disagrees and tries to not come off as racist as he makes ignorant comments. I do not know why they are still going on with this conversation unless it is some secret conspiracy to distract me from writing a good blog! If so, it is working!! I am distracted!

They are two guys with two pole views on the same issue. The Zimbabwean is stuck in the past. Yes, "white people" have caused harm all over the world, done many terrible things, things that are horrendous beyond words, but we have to move on, taking responsibility for what is "ours", surrendering what is "out of our hands" and forgiving those that have done us wrong. The English chap on the other hand does not want to take enough responsibility. He does not want to take any responsibility for the evil deeds of his forefathers. Sure, he wasn't there, it wasn't his fault, but in many areas of the world, you benefit just by being born white. Anyway, i didn't want to get into this discussion at the moment but yeah. They will continue on to shout, swear, interrupt each other, and they will both walk away from this conversation having learned nothing from each other, but only pushed further into their strong opinions they so tightly guard. ANYWAY...

I can't believe it's the 12 day! Only four days left. Time has flown by!

Yesterday morning on my way to the Internet cafe i met up with Xavier. He is a little guy. I think he is probably 13 or 14 but his growth has been drastically stunted by drugs, malnutrition and whatever else. He uses all sorts of substances; drugs way too big for his size. He is kind of a loner and moves around alone, going from one group to the next. He sometimes comes around at night to the flower stalls. He works on the taxis (the VW Minibus taxis) quite a bit. They, of course, can use him as their "guardtjie" (the guy who shouts out the window, collects the money from the people and opens and closes the door), and pay him way less then they would have to pay an actual adult. Street vendors, informal traders, taxi drivers, and the lot really benefit from the cheap child labour and exploitation the get out of the children living on the streets.

Back to the story...So i was walking to the Internet cafe yesterday morning and bumped into Xavier. He had some food in his hand and looked exhausted. We were going the same direction so we walked and talked together. He said that he had been working all night on a taxi and he was "dead tired". He was going to eat his food and then sleep all day. It was not more than 30 seconds after those words came out of his mouth when a taxi driver passed by and saw Xavier. The driver stopped the taxi, shouted out of the window "Don't you want to work?!". Without thinking twice Xavier said bye to me, ran to the taxi and jumped in. I found him late last night, about 10:00, at the flower stall and he had just finished working. He looked like a zombie. The drugs he smoked just after i saw him did not help the look much!

I went back out into town and came back in late. Xavier was passed out, all by himself, curled up into a ball under a jacket, snuggled up next to the wall. I looked at him and thought about how wrong it is for a kid that small to be exploited in the way that he is on a daily basis. I mean, this not even to mention the paedophiles he probably goes with for money. I looked at him and thought about how wrong it is for a child that small to go around, all hours of the day and night, smoking drugs with adults; drugs too big for his size. I looked at him and thought about how wrong it is that such a small kid sleeps all by himself, curled up with no protection but a jacket thrown over him. Anything could happen really. And it probably does! Wise was busy doing some stuff and i was tired so i got my piece of cardboard and laid it next to Xavier.

I laid my head on my "pillow" (my backpack) and fell asleep pretty soon after. I was awakened later in the evening by a rat crawling on my stomach. I catapulted it with my blanket and sent it flying. My sleep was disturbed again later in the evening by some movement of my bag. Someone was trying to steal it. I uncovered my head from underneath the blanket and said, "JY! Wat maak jy?!" (What are you doing?!). The guy was surprised to see it was me. He didn't realise. He seemed embarrassed. His shadiness was revealed to me first hand. He apologized and made up some excuse that he was looking for matches. I told him to look somewhere else. He did. I went back to sleep. I was again later awakened by some little hands pulling the blanket off of my head. It was Xavier. He looked pleasantly surprised to see it was me. He said, "Oh!! It's you!". Then he scurried back over to his spot, got back under his jacket and stretched his legs over me and went straight back to sleep. It was sad and funny at the same time.

I told Wise about it this morning and he said that Xavier probably felt safer with his legs laying over me as he slept. It is really sad for me to think about a kid, out in the world all by himself, fending for himself in all sorts of ways that are way to mature for his age and size. But this is why i am doing this. To be able to experience these things, feel them, understand them on a deeper level, and share them with you.

Day 11: 5 December - Talk Talk Talk

2008-12-05T15:23:00.000+02:00

Ever since a conversation i had with Damian (the manager at Crippie) this morning i have had this uneasy feeling in my stomach. My experience on the streets has been great so far. I even feel blessed to have experienced the things that seem to be "negative", because it better allows me to speak out, with a greater knowledge and understanding, about those very things. But that specific conversation this morning really put me in a bad frame of mind. I shouldn't let it get to me, and am usually pretty good at that, but i don't seem to have power over this one. I can't seem to get it out of my head, and i just feel down about it.

Basically, Damian told me that he was told by another lady (i won't mention names as to not get anyone in trouble in any way) that works for another organization, that "several" of the NGO's are not in agreement with what i am doing, and they are "boycotting" me. Now that actually sounds kind of funny when i type it and i actually don't even know what that means, but yeah. Damian told the lady that he would tell me and he did, and then when i inquired about who exactly she was talking about he called her to find out. She said she had gotten the information from a colleague who had been to a meeting where this was talked about. Apparently they were upset because i did this without consulting them or including them. This is strange for me because i sent out a press release for that very reason two weeks before the 16 days, so that if anyone wanted to meet up they could. I got contacted by several people from several different organization who showed support, and a couple that even wanted to meet. And that we did.

So i don't know who has a problem, and what it is all about, but i want to make it clear that i am not doing this for organizations. I am doing what i am doing for the kids. I do however want everyone involved with them to be involved with this, but the only way to do that is by making contact. Likewise, if people really do have problems with me, i would like to think that we are adult enough for them to come to me and we can talk it out. This whole thing could however just be a big misunderstanding and maybe no one has a problem. I have always tried to work with everyone, and work against the organizational politics, that only make the situation on the streets more complex. So i guess there could be a bigger reason why this even came up at all. For me to highlight this point.

One thing i have experienced is there is a lot of competition and organizational politics within this sector. I think it has gotten better since when i first came here, but it still exists, and it holds the kids right where they are. I hope for a day when we can all work together, agree to disagree about certain things, and work in unity towards finding solutions for these kids. No one person can do it alone! But it requires dedication to teamwork and networking, along with all of us basically being willing to "work ourselves out of a job". I hope this happens! I hope that others are striving for the same thing!

So here is the venue. I am opening it up. Please feel free to contact me if you have a problem with what i am doing. Please let me know how we can better work together. Please let me know if you support what i am doing. I need that too! Both negative and positive input are greatly needed for anything and everything we do in life, both privately and professionally. All i know is that i have seen eight years of children dying, drugging themselves stupid, wasting away, and being ignored by society (until they get under society's skin, that is) and i can't bear to see this for 8 more years! Desperate times call for desperate measures. This is my desperate act. I pray and hope that i have your support, even if you don't fully understand or agree with it.

I am sorry if this blog came off a little whiny and PMSy! This is normally not my style. But this has just been bugging me all day! Thanks for letting me vent!

Day 11: 5 December - Let the Images of them be Burned in our Minds

2008-12-05T07:34:00.000+02:00

I had the pleasure of going to a photo exhibition/film screening last night. I was invited by Clare, who has been diligently devoted to photographically documenting my journey. The exhibition was in downtown Cape Town last night so i walked up to see what was going on. The photos exhibited were what people call "street photography", and they were taken by mostly young, up and coming photographers. All of the pictures were taken in the townships; kind of a "day in the life" kind of thing. The images were striking and beautiful, yet dripping with contrast and irony. One picture that really struck me was of a young boy laying on top of a toilet, in a seemingly "informal settlement". It was one of those toilets you find in the "developing" areas, where the people have to go outside to use it. The boy was laying on top of the toilet and the picture was taken from below. Just under the boy's face, there was something written on the toilet with paint, "Better life". Striking.

After a crowd gathered at the venue, they played a film about the Then and Now photo exhibition. The film focused on the journey of photographer Paul Weinberg, travelling around visiting friends from his past. But these weren't just any friends. Paul and his 7 comrades were visual messengers from South Africa to the rest of the world during the Apartheid Era. They were documentary photographers, of all different races and backgrounds, that were dedicated to documenting the "wrongs" of Apartheid from all different angles. For instance, Guy Tillim's pictures often displayed the graphic violence of the ground level in the townships, whilst Gisele Wulfsohn's photos showed images of the "other side" of Apartheid, often capturing images of domestic workers being mistreated and the ugliness of "white superiority". Each photographer doing their part, playing their role, to get out the story to the rest of the world about what was going on in South Africa. If not for these brave photographers, and others like them, the rest of the world may not have gotten a clear "picture" of what was going on in South Africa during those dark years.

It got me thinking. What if the rest of the world would have become calloused to seeing pictures of young black children crying and running from military police, images of black men being malled by police dogs, photos of the hundreds upon thousands of people murdered by the Apartheid Regime and the many other atrocities captured on film. If people just accepted that "that's happening" and were not moved by what they saw, Apartheid might still be around to this very day. But people were disgusted by what they saw. They protested. They wrote letters to their governments. They rallied. They fought. And the images they saw were the wind that fanned the fire that burned within them to cry out and fight for change.

2008. There are children living on the streets of our biggest cities. Cape Town is one of the most popular tourist destinations in the world. It might possibly be one of the most beautiful ones! But it is a city that stinks with harsh contrasts. Much of the poverty of Cape Town can be "hidden" from tourists, but the children that live on the streets cannot. They are a direct reminder of the past, a thorn in the side of tourism, a nuisance to businesses and an embarrassment to the government. But the saddest part is, they are a part of life in Cape Town. People accept the fact that they are there. Locals pass by them without even thinking twice; calloused by daily images of a young child digging through a rubbish bin for food. Foreign tourists alike are calloused in their own way. It is almost as if they "expect" to see "street children" in a third world country and they patronizingly take photos of and with them, and give them food and money enabling their drug use and life on the streets. Very few people are "struck" by the image of a child living on the streets of Cape Town. If you took the same child and placed him or her in a different context, say Zurich, people would be shocked! They would approach the kid, try and help, be uncomfortable about the child being there, and be moved to do something. But in Cape Town, we have accepted it as the norm.

Many people have asked me what i hope to achieve with my 16 days on the streets. At the very least i hope to stir conversation and dialogue about the situation of these children. Thinking bigger, i would love to create an awareness that reaches the masses. An awareness where the vast majority says, "wait a minute! it is WRONG to allow a child to live on the streets!!". Where the majority of the people do not accept it and no longer see it as "normal", but view it as child abuse to allow a child to live on the streets. Not to pass by the child feeling bad, angry, sad, guilty, but dis-empowered to see a solution and merely move on with life. But that the image of a child living on the streets would be so strikingly WRONG to a vast majority of people that change would be inevitable. That mere awareness and acknowledgment of the masses is the foundation we need to begin to tackle this huge social ill. And with that foundation laid we can begin to put in the work and structures to see real change come in the lives of these children.

I urge you to no longer view these children from experience, whether past, present or future. But see them for what they are: children who have been robbed of so much, but need us to be adults and guide them and direct them towards better choices. I sit here with tears in my eyes and beg you not not be calloused by the images of children...CHILDREN living on the streets. Allow the images of them to burn in your mind and haunt you, as they do me, to the point where we all push for change together!

days with ryan...

2008-12-05T06:56:00.001+02:00

some more images from my days with ryan...

the boys about town...

the grand parade in the early morning

ralph - a man of great wisdom
the king of the grand parade...

ralph/wise guy again on the parade in the early morning

ralph discussing the springboks (yes springboks!) latest game with Anwar before he opens

checking the headlines on the way to the grand parade

sleeping quarters

100 hours of scratching - the final hour
(brown seen post bathing and rather stoked!)

there ain't no lip-ice on the streets...

post breakfast chats at the soup kitchen

Anwar who runs a store at the parade... Loves to chat, has great insights and for some bizarre reason, supports the All Blacks...

the shoe situation gets creative

soup kitchen (manager seated bottom right - awesome guy)

moments before the day begins at the soup kitchen

breakfast time...

this is actually from the first day when ryan handed out some shirts on the parade...

Remind me of my innocence...

2008-12-04T23:07:00.000+02:00

People on the street have this time round been overwhelmed by seeing how MUCH Ryan cares about them. I sense that many of them feel that he is doing it with them in mind whether child or adult.

While sitting with him at the Crippie last weekand hearing the guys tell their stories with ease made me realise how comfortable they are sharing their lives with him believing that somehow it will benefit the cause.During this time one of the guys who is now in his twenties told us of how he had moved through all the institutions,reformatories and prisons there are in cape town, he spoke about how he would always get into fights and be placed somewhere else. His fists kept him moving and running because they wanted to take him.The scars and tatoos on his body was testmony to this and it seemed that some how he was still punching. He knew most of the people at all these different places and had vivid recollections of his time spent there.His life had been a fight on and off the streets.

'I saw a picture of you when you must have been about 8....on the front cover of an old annual report '...really? he said. His face lit up and it seemed as if he stopped punching for one minute.'How did I look'...he asked. 'Like an eight year old...... innocent, small, optimsitic about life and its wonders, your face was clear and there were no scars to testify of anything. He hung onto my words like a prisoner behind bars...but for a moment the cell was opened and he was given the opportunity to hold his child he had not heard or seen for a very long time, his eyes shining as he asked more questions of which I had no answers because i didnt know him then. Silence. He looked at me waiting...his eyes were saying 'remind me of my innocence, what happened all this time, i want to go back....they took it from me...i want it back.
' I want to know more when you see him again....please is what his eyes were saying. The cell is shut as the key turns. The glow disappears as he stirs the 10 o clock stew at The Crippie.

I am reminded of how many other boys like him were robbed of their innocence by forces unknown to them. We have seen to many tears and heard to many stories and still we cannot protect their innocence. Its sad to see a country hearing the cries of its children and not taking responsibilty for them because its their choice. I too over the last 7 years have been frustrated to see kids being allowed to fall into cycles of self destruction because they knew no better. I agree with Ryan that children shouldnt be allowed to live on the streets and its sad to have to remind young men about the days before their innocence were taken.I do not want to continue having to read the eyes of them saying 'Remind me of my innocence......Im out.

Day 10: 4 December - Too Many Years

2008-12-04T16:23:00.000+02:00

The other day Wise Guy introduced me to one of his friends named Mogamat. I have probably passed by Mogamat more than a million times before but never noticed him, and neither of us were interested in conversation with the other for whatever reason. I shook his hand and he immediately introduced himself as the "second longest stroller on the Parade", Wise being the first. Then he went straight into how he never bothered talking to people that worked with the kids, especially not foreigners; i guess he was giving an explanation of why we had never spoken before. I also told him i don't have all that much contact with the "older guys". My excuse.

He told me how he came to the streets. He was only 5 years old. He was a part of the Kaap se Klopse and he was left behind one evening. He met up with a group of kids and they introduced him to glue and the rest was history. After that was a exciting, yet painful chain of events. 27 years later Mogamat looks like someone who traveled through the desert for years. His skin is brown and weathered, his eyes are wrinkled on the sides from a permanent squint, he is missing several teeth, his left eye is continuously blood shot, and he has several scars on his face. His hair is curly and unkept, his clothes are baggy, dirty and falling off of him, and he speaks slowly, often slurring his words even when he is sober. He has had a tough life!

I have enjoyed hanging out and talking to my friend over the past week or so. He prefers to be drunk. He has terrible asthma, along with other sicknesses, and has to use a pump. He showed me a refill for his pump that he bought from his "friend". He needs it to be able to breath; most especially at night. Without the pump he could have an attack and die. His "friend" saw which one he uses and told him he has one laying at home. He brought it and sold it to him. Mogamat says he does not have any family, and few friends. He often says, "There is only one guy out there for me and that is Ralph Morgan (Wise Guy)!". He also says, "When i do good, no one remembers. But when i do bad, no one forgets." He says it in a way in which i can see he feels it as the words come out of his mouth. He wants to tattoo it on his forehead. He also loves my "Peace" tattoo on my neck and wants one exactly like it, but he would rather go for the front part of the neck.

Mogamat is honest. Honest about where he has been. Honest about where he is now. And honest about where he is going. It seems he wishes for another life, and time, in which to live...maybe a second chance, but he knows that he will not get one. A lot of the younger guys don't respect him one bit. They see him as an "old drunk". They speak disrespectfully and he fears that they will beat him up in his sleep. Mogamat is alone. It breaks my heart! When i sit and speak with him i look deep into his eyes and try and see that kid that first came to Cape Town 27 years ago. I want to grab that kid and hug him! Tell him to go home, leave the glue and stay in school. But i can't. It is too late for Mogamat. Though he is only 32 he looks no younger than 60. That kid is long gone! I can't change his past, but i can work my hardest to change the present and future realities for the present and future Mogamats. And in the meantime, i can sit and laugh and talk to Mogamat.

Day 10: 4 December - The Rats

2008-12-04T07:18:00.001+02:00

The rats seem to have been a real "theme" in my time here on the streets so far. You see some of them scurrying around in the day. Those are the real hardcore ones! They are the worst because they are the ones that are not scared of the light or scared of people. They just look at you, hiss and continue on with their day. Most of the rats come out in the night. They are all shapes and sizes, but really serve no purpose of "good" on the streets. They bring nothing to the table. They come only to take! They crawl all over you in the night when you sleep and if you don't show a sign of movement they will bite you; literally eat your flesh until you protest! Some of the older homeless people actually have huge pieces of their ears missing from the rats nibbling away at them over the years. One guy even has a chunk bitten out of his nose. The rats creep and crawl at night... looking for what they can take, what they can eat, what they can steal...infecting everything they touch, plaguing those that dwell on the streets.

Unfortunately, those little ugly rodents are not the only "rats" the kids have to deal with on a daily basis. There are other rats that come to steal, kill and destroy, as they nibble away at the lives of the kids. Who are they? Older gangsters, drug dealers, corrupt cops and security guards, paedophiles, just to name some of the main culprits. Like the rodent rats, most of these rats come out in the night.

They prey on the kids...

The drug dealers on Long Street stand and watch the young addicts running around trying to get their next hit. They smile as the child brings them his money to buy his poison. They take from kids and infect them; nibbling away at the child's innocence through his drug addiction.

The paedophiles creep around looking for a "tasty treat". They are ruthless in their urges. Since i have been here there has been much talk about a rat called Frank, who is picking up young girls, drugging them up and taking pornographic pictures and videos of him engaging with them in sexual activities. Last night i saw three young boys waiting for one of the rats to approach them. They take from the kids and infect them; nibbling away at the child's innocence through exposing the child to things that he or she is way to young to see or do.

The older gangsters see the child as an opportunity: easy to overpower, fits in small spaces, easy to get addicted to heavy drugs, longs for a sense of belonging. Much like a sleeping victim of the gangster rat's rodent cousin, the child is powerless under the gangster rat's hands. They use the kids for all sorts of evil deeds, abuse them and then discard them when they have had enough. They take from kids and infect them; nibbling away at the child's innocence through exploitation, abuse and maltreatment.

The corrupt security and police are some of the worst rats. They are like the huge rats that don't even move when you try and scare them away, put his back and even jump on you and bite you! All police and security guards are not rats, but the ones that are misuse their power and abuse the kids. They beat the kids, steal their money, smoke drugs with them, intimidate, and engage in all sorts of criminal activities that they were hired to prevent; they create chaos in places they were hired to keep peace. They take from kids and infect them; nibbling away at the child's innocence through using their authority to abuse and intimidate.

So in actual reality, rodents are the least of the kids' worries! These other rats bring much more devastation to the lives on the children, and a regular and daily basis. The worst ones are the ones that come out in day because they are not scared of the light or scared for their deeds to be exposed. But most of these rats creep and crawl in the night, preying on the kids, nibbling away at their lives, bit by bit, night by night. They bring nothing but infection and disease to the table, and all they do is steal! But until we do something to remove these children from their dwelling place, these rats will continue to creep and crawl all over these kids, nibbling away at their innocence and lives!

* Thanks to Gerald Jacobs for helping me conceptualize this blog through a conversation at the soup kitchen the other day!!

- On hope and Hopeful Situations -

2008-12-04T01:34:00.000+02:00

"There is a place called Hope.
Most of the times, this place is hidden because of our societal issues.
It is a sentiment that etches away in our present world.
It is most times forgotten because every one of us has a personal crisis at some point in time in our lives.
Nevertheless, hope is there – somewhere, clutched inside the ever-fixed gaze of grace. Hope is the answer for the oppressed, the last grain of tangible freedom.
Oppression whether physical or emotional, we must search for hope for it is in this that we find it ready to tackle our every plea.
It is hard to believe that hope is ready to meet us in whatever circumstance we may find ourselves in - but it does.
We can ask what a hope is for someone - what will be good news to him or her?
What causes someone to even think about the possibility of hope? I know this; many people need to hear the story of hope.
I need to hear and remind myself constantly about its surety.
The kind of hope that I write about bears a much deeper message - one of love and acceptance; a life of freedom.
Freedom - doesn’t that sound amazing - being freed from any kind of oppression, things that constrict you, bog you down.
Surely, if one is really searching for it - calling at its name - hope will beckon.
It is here where I find the need to look elsewhere - perhaps beyond ourselves to clutch at hopes hand for sure."

so...

I try not to ask very deep and profound questions as to why the world is failing and people suffer because of bad choices (both theirs and others).
What is 'HOPE' in a world where people have lost all hope and found a 'hopeful situation' in something else?
Does that 'hopeful situation' really count as the 'hope' that we ought to be looking for?
If a person trusted someone once before, but was let down several times - what has trust become then? If a child once believed in sacrificial love, but lost his innocence in pursuit of it - what is love to them?
What is hope - what is a hopeful situation? If we figure this out - do you think it will cause us to 'act' - do something to change the way things are?

Day 9: 3 December - Redemption of the Chicken

2008-12-03T20:07:00.000+02:00

You know, people that i run into, that know what i am doing, keep asking me how i am doing. They seemed shocked when i say great. Then they ask what day is it and how many left. Today i said, "Day nine. Seven more to go!". And that is usually followed up by them making a comment about me being glad it is almost over. So they are even MORE shocked when i say that time is flying, and i wish it wasn't moving so fast and i am not looking all that forward to the end! Insert chin drop here. I guess people expect me to feel and be miserable, which is understandable. But i am not. But i also know that it is a choice; a daily, hourly, minutely, secondly choice! I have learned that us humans really can adapt to any situation, and it can become normal. With a good attitude and determination it does not take long to get into a routine. Being happy, laughing and staying positive in the most miserable situation makes that situation bearable; and not just bearable, but even sometimes fun. It is important to find the humor, joy, hope, and strength in the most desperate situation, and those things are what carries you through safely, coming out a better person on the other side.

Anyway, enough preaching!! So ever since those darn rats ate half of Wise and my chicken, we have been talking and joking about it. We haven't once "complained", but have enjoyed telling the story to anyone who will listen. We love laughing about it. So this evening, before i went on my nightly skurrel on Long Street, as i was saying bye to Wise he said, "Ryan...see if you can bring some meat back from Long Street! Ever since those rats ate our chicken all i think about is meat!". I told him i would bring some back. No pressure, right? So i headed to Long Street with the goal of:

a) getting a whole chicken

or

b) getting enough money for a chicken

I put my mind to it. Ran around Long Street like the crazy whitey i am, holding a few coins in my hand asking people to donate to my "chicken fund". And that they did! I sit here with 50 Rand in my pocket and i am about to go buy that chicken! Every story i tell doesn't have to be dark and scary! It's OK to have a little fun sometimes too and it is important to stay positive! Now i am going to go eat that chicken!!!!

Day 9: 3 December - My Rights are in my Backpack

2008-12-03T11:54:00.000+02:00

Those of you that have been following my blogs might have noticed yesterday afternoon's blog was a little short. I was pretty tired! I have been sleeping like a log at night, and the rats seem not not like my smell anymore...at least for the time being! i guess not washing does come in handy for some things! Anyway, as i said, i have been sleeping good, but staying up pretty late and getting up at the crack of dawn caught up to me yesterday. I walked around like a zombie for most of the afternoon. I also got pretty hungry, and had not had a coke for the first time in my time on the streets so my head was spinning. I was thankful for Donna (one of the girls who use to live on the streets but lives home now and visits her boyfriend/father of her child) for buying a coke for us to split; also thankful i saw Vusa and Zoe from Zula Bar. They gave me a whole, freshly cooked pizza! PURE BLISS!! I shared it with a young girl that strolls on Long Street. The other day when she saw me she said she was in the mood for pizza. I also adopted that "mood" after she mentioned it. So from that day i have been joking with her about "organizing" a pizza for us. So it was cool to see that come into being. Then i went to bed early and got an amazing night's sleep! I feel fresh today. I don't smell fresh, but its all in the feeling!! Anyways...

Last night when i got to my slaap plek i noticed Kleintjie had assumed the "passed out" position again. (i wrote about him in my blog yesterday for those that didn't read it) I walked over to him and he was kind of awake, but trying to hide his face from me. He had smoked mandrax (an outlawed prescription sleeping tablet that is crushed up and sprinkled over tobacco and marijuana, or a mixture of both, and then smoked). He seemed embarrassed for me to see him in that state. He laid there, coming in and out of consciousness, trying to talk to me, lifting his head and letting it fall back to the ground. I noticed he had a full mouth of bread; it was stuffed full! It seems like it had been in there for a while and he was struggling to swallow it. I told him to sit up and not fall asleep until he had swallowed first. At that point i strangely felt like my mom at the dinner table! I helped him sit up against the wall and then i went and filled a bottle up with water for him. He drank it quickly and then had relief from his mouth full of dry bread.

I sat there and talked to him for a while. he didn't respond much; just with a funny little smile, the occasional comment and a lot of head bobbing and eyes rolling back in his head. I knew he might not remember the conversation, or even remember talking to me the next day, but i felt it was important to speak some positivity to him and over his life. i told him what a great kid i think he is, even though i haven't know him for that long. I told him that i hate seeing him in that state and think he is such an amazing person when he is sober. i told him the potential i see for him and his future...if he chooses to leave this life and pursue something better for himself. I rubbed his head and asked him if he knew what he was talking about. He patted my hand, smiled and tried to look me in the eyes and said, "yeah Ryan!". That was good enough for that moment.

You see Kleintjie is the reason i am out here for these 16 days. No, I don't mean only Kleintjie, but he represents the very reason i am out here. You see, if you ask Kleintjie why he is on the streets, he will tell you that there are no real problems at home, he can go there if he wants, but "die Kaap is lekker" (Cape Town is nice)! He likes living in Cape Town. He likes the freedom it brings. The daily excitement he finds. The drugs he uses. The people he meets and interacts with. The money he makes. The life he is able to live. Kleintjie was given a choice, by society, to live on the streets or to stay at home and he chose the streets. He now lives an unsupervised life and is exposed to all the elements out there. Anything could really happen to Kleintjie when he is passed out like that. And it probably does.

So i have been carrying this South African Constitution in my bag. Really for no other reason but for the symbol and the metaphor, because as i have said before, every single right of a child is being broken by ALLOWING him or her to live on the streets! Like Kleintjie, he has the right to many things, but he has forfeited them because WE have allowed him to. So today i was given several things: some fruit, an unopened coke, a chocolate. I didn't want to eat all of these things right when i got them, from the various people that gave them to me, so i just put them in my backpack as i received them. By the time i got to the coke i was looking for space. I thought about throwing out the Constitution, because it is really no use to me on the streets and it is just extra weight. But then i thought twice. If i did throw away the Constitution to make space for more stuff in my bag, i would symbolically be doing the very thing the kids do; the very thing that i am protesting. I would be literally "throwing away my rights". I decided for the sake of the symbol i would hold on to the Constitution. Even if it is only paper and i don't see the words on it being manifested in the lives of those that i am now living with. For their sake, and for the hope that we will one day "get it together", i am going to hold onto it for now. I only wish that at the very least, the weight that i feel from it on my back was matched, if not doubled or tripled, by the weight in the words. But for now the words are empty and weightless!

Day 8: 2 December - One Man's Rubbish is Another Man's Treasure

2008-12-02T16:37:00.000+02:00

One man's half finished, cooled off latte is another man's ice coffee!

Day 8: 2 December - Moved to Move

2008-12-02T06:54:00.000+02:00

I feel like a bit of a weirdo here in the Internet cafe right now! I sat down and began thinking about what i was going to write about and i just started crying. Even as i type now i am struggling to see the screen because of tears. Anybody that knows me knows i do not cry that much (not by choice), and so when i do cry it is obviously something significant! So what got me all teared up? Really something very simple i was thinking about this morning. I was just thinking about the different things i have seen on this journey and the way they have "moved" me. We can be "moved" by all sorts of different emotions. I specifically think back to just the last 12 hours...

I was moved when i met a friend on Long Street who was moved by what i am doing. He said he had duvets at his place for me to hand out to the guys. Me and Gregory went with him to his flat and he insisted on cooking us some food; even though he had very little in his fridge and cupboards, and in his own words, can't cook (he asked me how to cook rice), he wanted to make me and Greg some food. When people that have little, give much, that is moving!

I was moved when i passed by the little kids that stroll on Long Street last night, back on a dark street, smoking rocks (crack). These kids are so addicted. I have always known it. I don't want to mention names but two of them have been smoking rocks since they were 5 and 10 years old. They started smoking with their father. Now they are 13 and 17, but still look about 5 and 10 because of the hectic drug use over the past 8 years. To see children's innocence robbed by the stupidity of adults, only to lead them to a life trapped in addiction is moving beyond words!

I was moved when i arrived back to my slaap plek (sleeping place) and Malibongwe was waiting for me there. I have known Malibongwe the entire time i have lived here but haven't seen him in a long time! He hasn't been in town for a while and has been living at home, but he came to town on Friday. I saw him at Crippie. When i got to the flower stand he was standing there like a worried parent. I asked him how he was and he said "not good!". I asked him what was wrong and he said, "I'm angry". I asked who he was angry at and he said, "Who do you think? I am angry at you!". I asked him why and his eyes filled up with tears and he began to cry. He couldn't speak at first. His eye wells reached their limit and some tears rolled down his face and he said, "I never thought i would see you like this! I don't know you like this! I was shocked to see you here on the streets...when i see you at Crippie i just stare at you...it doesn't even look like you! I don't know you like this to live on the streets!" Obviously he had not been fully briefed about what exactly i was doing here. As he continued to cry and continued to try and gain composure, i explained to him why i was on the streets, and that is was only for 16 days. He seemed relieved, but was already in an emotional state and began to talk about the problems he has recently experienced at home (specifically with his step dad), which is why he came to town again. He doesn't want to be here. But his step father doesn't want him there, and makes his life miserable. To see someone who is walking through such a dark time show the compassion and concern that Malibongwe showed to me, last night, is really and truly moving!

I was moved by "Kleintjie" after he sniffed way too much glue last night. Kleintjie is one of the younger guys that sleeps near us. He is from an area called Clark Estate, which is renowned for gangsterism and violence; many of the kids in town come from there. Kleintjie is fairly new to town and is a really sweet kid but just needs someone in his life to be firm with him, love him and put him back on the right path. He is in town because "it's lekker" (it's nice), in his own words. I am sure it is more lekker than Clark Estate and the freedom town brings is addictive. I walked around with him the other night and we had a long chat about his life and future and past...in no particular order. So last night some of the older guys were sniffing glue and they gave some to Kleintjie. I had not seen him use glue before. As many kids as i have seen use glue, and as calloused as i am to it by now, it was strangely and deeply sad to see Kleintjie and the way the glue was effecting him. He called me over and tried to talk to me, hugged me, and then tried to talk some more but was not making much sense. He then asked me for one rand to go by some chips because he said he was hungry. I told him if he gave me the glue i would give him one rand. He looked down, carefully considered, and then decided to make the exchange. Though he stopped sniffing it, the effects of the glue lingered until he eventually passed out. Before that he just walked around a bit and just seemed lost. To see such a young boy with no real foresight or hope for the future is moving.

I was moved as i approached the Internet cafe his morning here on Long Street. It was only 6:15 AM in the morning. I had just woken up. But one of the other Long Street kids was still awake from the night before. He was frantically walking beside some lady, trying to convince her to give him money. Money to buy his last fix of the "night". I have watched this young kid, whose head barely reaches my chest, closely the past few days. I have known that he "rocks", but i didn't realise how bad it has become. Sure, you can see his little face is caved in quite a bit, his head seems to be swelled propped up on his pole-like frame; a silhouette similar to a lollipop. He starts about 7:00 or 8:00 PM, moves nonstop and begs on Long Street until he has enough for a rock. When he has enough he runs and buys one, smokes it, and returns to Long Street and gets back to "work" without hesitation. He continues this pattern throughout the entire night, into the early hours of the morning. To see a child literally killing himself by starvation and poison, on a nightly basis, is extremely moving.

Those are just a few examples of how i have been "moved" in the past 12 hours. There are may more. It is easy to be moved, and then just go on with life as you know it. But now, more than ever before in the past eight years of working with these kids, i don't just want to be "moved". i want be moved to the point of action. I don't want to let it stop at emotion but i want to allow that emotion to MOVE me to see change come for the good in the lives of these kids! So if anything i have said has moved you...don't leave it there. Allow it to move you to action, whatever that may look like for you!

Day 7: 1 December - Street Karma

2008-12-01T17:28:00.000+02:00

I don't really believe in Karma in its fullest spiritual sense, but i do think the basic foundation principles of Karma do apply in life, and most especially on the streets! You know, "what goes around comes around", what you give you will receive (whether good or bad), you reap what you sow, and so on. I know this is a basic human philosophy that applies in all of our lives, whether we believe it or not. What you give, whether it is good or bad, will return back to you (sometimes multiplied) in one way or another, in the same spirit in which you gave it. Survival on the streets is one of the rawest examples of this that i have seen.

If you have something today and you share it with others, those others are going to look after you next time they have something. If you do not share what you have, most likely when it comes time for others to share with you, they will not. Likewise, if you are disrespectful and rude to others om the streets, that negativity will come back to you in one way or another; probably on the other side of a knife or a broken bottle. But if you are kind and respectful, people usually meet you in return with mutual respect and kindness.

Today i was at the Waterfront and i saw a kid that goes there to beg for food and money. I actually saw him the other day when i was given KFC and i gave him some on my way out of the Waterfront. So today he came up to me and we chatted for a while. At some point i mentioned being very hungry (because i had not eaten since this morning and the sun was beating down on me) and without hesitation he handed me his shirt he was holding and said, "Wait here! I'll be right back!!". Minutes later he returned with a full take-away container of chips (french fries to you Americans) with tomato sauce all over them. My mouth watered at the sight!

We ate together and had great conversation. It was a simple example for me of how what "i gave" the other day came back to me today. I could have easily passed by him the other day and not given to him, because i didn't even know him then. But i didn't, and the "street karma" came back in a good way! On a totally different note, i washed in a sink in a restroom in the Waterfront; at least the upper half of my body. It was the first time i have washed in these 7 days! It was SOOOOOOOOOOO refreshing! It is amazing how good a little soap and water can make you feel!! Anyways, i will be back tomorrow to give more insight! Thanks for the continuous support and comments! They are really encouraging and mean a lot out here!!

Day 7: 1 December (morning)

2008-12-01T07:07:00.000+02:00

Today is my seventh day on the streets; one full week. Time has really flown! You know, i would often find it humorous how the kids seemed to have no concept of "how long" they have been on the streets. I would ask a new kid (who had maybe been there for a month or two) how long he had lived on the streets and he would say two years or something like that. I always found it interesting how they would seemingly lose track of time and space. But i can really see how easily that can happen! I mean, as i said, time has flown and these seven days have gone by fast but at the very same time, so much happens in one day that it feels like it was way more than just a week!

I had another interesting observation, or should i say "experience", yesterday. It has always been sad and interesting to me to see the "hold" that Cape Town has on the kids. I mean, it is multifaceted and involves all sorts of complex factors (belonging, drug use, freedom, etc.) but it always seemed as though Cape Town itself was the thing holding them, but at the same time bringing them some sort of strange comfort. Some kids would want to visit their families and the farther we drove away from Cape Town the more obviously anxious they became. At their house they might look uncomfortable or nervous. Then on the return trip, the closer we got to Cape Town the more at ease they would become. As i said, this is for many complex reasons, but yesterday i felt a small degree of that.

My friend Faizel was supposed to come visit me yesterday morning at 11:00 and he did in fact come but had sad news that a relative had passed away. Being Muslim, they have to bury the deceased within 24 hours, so Faizel said i could just ride with him to the grave site and sit i the car and use his camera phone to record a video blog while he is at the grave. Anyways, long story short, i went with him. We were gone for about two hours and i found that all i could think about was what was happening in Cape Town. I was thinking about the different people that i hang out with on a daily basis and i was wondering what they were up to and what i was missing out on. It was really weird! However as strange as it was, it gave me a deeper insight into what the kids feel when they leave town. Definitely not in full, seeing that i am not using drugs (etc.) and that plays a huge role. But i also think that my "drug" is this "mission" that i am now on for these 16 days, and whilst away from Cape Town, even if only for two hours, all i could think about was getting back to Cape Town, back to my "mission".

Last night was the turning on of the Christmas lights on Adderley Street (which is the "front porch" of our sleeping place). It was strange seeing so many people walking in and out of the place where we sleep. I found myself trying to "engage" in a festive event that i would normally enjoy, but was actually just tired and wanted the people to leave my "house" so i could sleep. I eventually did just go to sleep and i slept sound!! I know this blog was here, there and everywhere, but i just wanted to get some of these random thoughts out. I will report back more later.

Day 6: 30 November

2008-11-30T13:31:00.000+02:00

Day 6: 30 November (top of the morning)

2008-11-30T10:37:00.000+02:00

I just wanted to write a short one to say that i had a good time last night. Gregory and I hung out on Long Street for a LONG time and we sat at Lola's at one of the outdoor tables (it was slow at first because of the rain) and he made beats on the table and i rapped. He said it was because of our mic that Long Street filled up so quickly! Everyone seemed to be in a festive mood. Everyone of course including the rats!! When i was trying to go to sleep i got bombarded by them. At one point three at one time. One of them managed to make its way into my pant leg before i was able to stand up ad kick him out! I will write more later. I have a lot of things on my mind i want to write about but really need something in my stomach! Talk to you later!

Day 5: 29 November - You Are STILL NOT Welcome...VERY MUCH!

2008-11-29T18:39:00.000+02:00

I had a great day today! I hung out mostly with the group of younger kids from Long Street. They were excited to hang out because most of the time, over the past few days, when i have seen them it has been at night during their "working hours". So today we had a chance just to hang out. We went to the Company Gardens and just laid in the grass. They actually asked me to come with them and talk to them until they fell asleep (they had stayed up all night and had not yet slept). So we met up with a couple of the other guys that hang out in the Gardens and just hung out, laid on a blanket and chatted. I was again reminded of the blog i wrote the other day about the discrimination that street people receive from police and security compared to "average members of the public".

In a few hours of sitting there we were approached by two different sets of police officers and two different sets of security guards. The kids had eventually fallen asleep and Gregory and i just sat there and chatted. Later my wife came for a visit as well. But in that time, every visit we had from the authorities brought the message that "people" are not allowed to sleep in the Company Gardens. Please picture with me for one second, a beautiful, sunny Saturday afternoon (that was before it started raining), families sitting all in the grass (many of those people sleeping), all sorts of activities and fun. The kids were not harming anybody. Just sleeping. So were other people, that did not get told FOUR SEPARATE TIMES that they are not allowed to sleep there. I explained that the sign (which is a picture) explains that people, ALL people, are not allowed to sleep there in the night, because it is a picture (crossed out) of man sleeping under the moon. That makes it pretty clear for literate and illiterate alike.

I understand rules. I think many rules are good and allow us to live in peace and harmony with one another. BUT rules have to apply to everyone and not just a certain "class" or grouping of people. I used to walk through the Gardens regularly and there has not been one single time that i have NOT seen people sleeping: business men, construction workers, homeless people, white people, black people, fat people, skinny people, lots and lots of people...sleeping. But the only people i have ever seen be harassed about sleeping in the Gardens are homeless people. So...

Make a rule that NO ONE is allowed to sleep there and enforce it fairly, and equally to the entire public.
Lay off and let everyone enjoy the little bit of "nature" in the middle of this concrete jungle.

BUT WHATEVER YOU DO JUST BE FAIR AND TREAT PEOPLE EQUALLY!!!!!

Day 5: 29 November - Basic Arithmetic

2008-11-29T18:29:00.000+02:00

My current smell + Rain = something TERRIBLY smelly!!!!

I was given taxi fair to go to the 100 hour Music Marathon at the Waterfront. I walked through a lot of rain before that. Then i had to sit next to people, making very close contact, on public transport. I felt sorry for them but also felt pretty ashamed. I mean, i know why i am doing this, so it didn't get to my "core being" or anything, but i just imagined how it would be for someone in my position, yet this "position" being their constant reality. I got to the marathon only to find out it was rained out but it wasn't all loss because they had left over KFC that i was able to bring back to town for the guys, which also worked out good because i promised the kids on Long Street i would "sort something out for them later" because they gave me an apple and some chips this morning. So, on the bus on the way back to town, i had my big plastic sack of obviously donated food, and there was some guy that actually made fun of me! On the way in and the way out of the bus. People are truly amazing! I treasure these experiences because they allow an understanding that cannot be obtained by mere observation, reading, hearsay, or even a story straight from the horse's mouth; to really feel and understand it, you have to experience it! It was not cool to be me in that moment, but this "me" only lasts for 16 days; whilst others live under this kind of treatment on a daily basis.

Push...

2008-11-29T18:05:00.000+02:00

I saw Ryan today, just like the past couple days before at the Waterfront. I've been lucky to see him on this journey and rock a 365 Days of Activism shirt.

I totally agree with the mentality of 365 Days of Activism. We, as the general population, have many days of awareness i.e. AIDS, Breast Cancer, Homelessness, Gender Violence, ect. ect. ect. While these days are important to remind us that humanity is still a work in progress, it's very easy to become callous to the messages even on their days of recognition.

Ryan asked me today to write about the event my organisation, ConsciousFlowz, along with many other local organisations such as loveLife, The Amy Beihl Foundation, Cape Flats YMCA, New Start and others with DJs such as Azuhl, Eazy, Intellegent Design, Ready D and musical artists such as Claire Phillips, Chad Saamian and Sneaker Box are joining forces to raise awareness of the AIDS Pandemic with World AIDS 5-Day Event at the Waterfront.

The event is spearheaded by a 100 DJ marathon. While I'm not a DJ, but I've working closely with these cats and I can see that 100 hours is A LOT OF TIME EVEN IF IT'S YOUR PASSION. THEY DO HOWEVER CONTINUE TO PUSH FORWARD WHICH REMINDS ME THAT WE AS A GLOBAL COMMUNITY SHOULD DO SO AS WELL NO MATTER HOW PROVERBIALLY TIRED WE BECOME WITH THE EVERYDAY GRIND.

This brings me to the point of my thoughts: RYAN IS PUSHING. Wherever you are in this world there are issues that we allow ourselves to become callous. Why do we let this happen? My belief is that it is easy to not push ourselves to become better humans as we fight for our own survival --- why must we also fight for something else as well? My answer: Our future generations to come.

SO I CHALLENGE US TO FOLLOW RYAN's EXAMPLE AND PUSH.

If you want to hear some of the live tunes that we'll be playing as we continue to push ourselves to Monday concert at Waterfront, you can check out the live stream at:
http://www.consciousflowz.org/ConsciousFlowz/LiveStream.html

Peace:
Stephen

Day 5: 29 November - Role Reversal

2008-11-29T07:59:00.000+02:00

Last night i had an interesting experience. Maanie came by the flower stand before we went to sleep. I have known Maanie the entire time i have lived here. I think he was around 10 or 11 when i first met him back in 2000. I really have a soft spot for him and have seen him go through many ups and downs. Right now it seems that he is very "up", which is great for me to see! I don't think he would mind me saying that he just got out of jail the day before yesterday. He had a couple of old cases that stood up against him so he had to spend a couple of months in jail. He said while he was in there he thought a lot about his life, his child (who is one of the cutest babies in the world), and his future.

Maanie said all these years living on and off the streets, in and out of jail, he had always looked at other people to blame for his predicaments he continued to find himself in; his parents, the government, the NGO sector, Cape Town, this guy, that guy...everybody but himself. Now he says, though he sees the role that they all played in the things he has been through, he is currently in a place where he is "old enough" to take responsibility, stop looking for others to blame for his situation, and also look at himself, along with the choices and decisions he has made over all the years that have brought him to this place (even if he was not mature enough to make them at that time). He now takes responsibility for the "place" he is in, but more importantly, he is taking responsibility for his future.

Anyway, as i said, i have always had a soft spot for Maanie; i love him to death. It was really good to see him last night and see how good he looked, and i think he was glad to see me. At the same time, i think it was a little bit strange for him. He said he heard about what i am "doing" (here on the streets) while he was in jail. He kept looking at me with disbelief last night and i could see a mixture of emotion in his eyes: pride, concern, pity...to name a few. He looked at me with concern and said, "You look tired!". I said i was a bit tired because it had been a long day. He said, "Do you have a cold? Here, take this!" and he handed me the cap from his head. I thanked him. He said, "Do you have enough clothes?" and i told him that i only had the clothes i was wearing but i planned on washing them soon. I could literally see the pain in his eyes. I think he finally realised how i felt (and still feel) all those years coming and visiting all the kids on a daily basis.

I told him i stink. He leaned forward and put his nose to my chest and took a big whiff and said, "No you don't. You smell like I always did!". And that was the moment that was so surreal. I was standing there like a stinky little "street kid" and Maanie was standing there nicely dressed, looking and smelling great. I think it was a moving experience for both of us! He told me he wants to do whatever he can to support me in this and that he believes in what i am doing! I appreciated his words and told him that the best way he can "support me" is to continue in the positive way that he is and look after himself. To see him looking so good is the best support i could ever have. That is why i am doing this!

Once a kid has been allowed to grow up on the streets it is not easy for him to come away from the street life (especially after many years on the streets). Maanie is very aware of the challenges and open about the temptations that are out there for him. Like i have said many times before, we have to catch these kids before they even go to the streets. Before the streets suck them in and steal prime years of their lives. I am so proud of Maanie! I know he will make mistakes again, but i also know that we have to take it one day at a time and today...Maanie gave me hope!

Day 4: 28 November (evening)

2008-11-28T21:11:00.000+02:00

Today was a really nice day...after i got over the whole diarrhea thing! I went to Crippie (the soup kitchen) and hung out there for most of the morning. One thing i have noticed is how much the other street youth, and adults for that matter, enjoy having me around. Though I have felt close to them for the past eight years, this experience is bringing me closer than words can explain. Each and every day i am reminded of the fact that they truly are my family; whether it is through a smile, a gift of some sort (usually coffee or coke), encouraging words telling me they believe in what i am doing, or just quality conversations. Before i would have these types of experiences but then return to my home. Now, i am here...all the time!

I don't really have all that much to say tonight. But i am doing good, and feel absolutely privileged to be in the place that i am! Crippie is closed for the weekend so we will see what tomorrow and Sunday bring!

Day 4: November 28 - Live by the Day

2008-11-28T07:00:00.000+02:00

Alright, i don't want to be too gross on here, but i guess part of this experience is to learn, and share, all the different aspects of street life (especially in context with why the streets are not appropriate for children to live on), as "real" as they might be. This one is pretty gritty! I woke up this morning and my stomach was not happy. I realised something i had eaten yesterday made my stomach runny. Unfortunately, it was 6:00 AM. The public toilets on the Parade don't open until 7:00 AM! Fortunately, i wanted to come to the Internet cafe to write this blog and i knew i could use this toilet (an option that the kids would not actually have). That also meant i had to walk a bit further.

As i walked i could feel my unhappy stomach trying to relieve itself as quickly as possible. I pinched like i never have before. I made it to the toilet, BUT someone had urinated ALL over the seat. "Oh man!!!! I don't think i can hold it long enough to clean it off!". I got it cleaned off just in time for the explosion that followed! HA! I know, i am sorry! Too much information!! But i guess that is one of the many realities of street life that has just become very real to me! What if i had not have made it? I only have this one pair of pants!!! What if i would have had to wait until 7:00 AM? I don't think i could have held off! Anyways, that's not even what i wanted to write about this morning, but i did want to share that with you.

Moving on...

One thing that i have always seen as a positive and negative of street life is the "live by the day" mentality that comes with it. I mean, it is good because some people spend their entire lives collecting "things" that they think will make them happy, and they don't, but they horde and they horde until they die, and then the stuff stays, and they move on. On the other side however, it has always been difficult for me in the past, working with the kids that come off the streets, trying to teach them values of saving money, thinking ahead and not acting so spontaneously. Street life is very spontaneous. Life just "happens". Many of the kids act impulsively, not thinking of the consequences, maybe because that action could be their very last. Why save money from today when someone is going to steal it in the night? Last night i got a taste of why it does not always pay off to "save" things on the streets.

For those of you that don't know, yesterday was Thanksgiving in the States. And i have some American friends here that like to celebrate it. One of those friends had told me that back in the States her and her mother always take food to homeless people on Thanksgiving, and she said she would bring me something when i am here on the streets. So she came last night and brought Wise and I too lovely bags of goodies!! I am talking a whole chicken, a loaf of bread, some candy, peanut butter, apples, soap, pain tablets and more! It was like Christmas! She found us at our sleeping place and we were already asleep, so she said it would keep until the morning. Wise and i looked forward to a nice breakfast, AND lunch!

We knew the rats were on the prowl so i put the bags under a crate. We then returned to la la land. This morning when we woke up, we wanted to take a look at the goodies in the morning light and we noticed little pieces of plastic bag laying all around the bags. And each bag had its own hole. The rats has figured a way into our "refrigerator" crate!! (i thought i felt something crawling over me in the night) They has eaten about half the whole chicken and nibbled on every single piece of bread! Wise said we shouldn't eat the other half of the chicken because the rats carry diseases and he has seen people get very sick from eating food that rats have nibbled on. So we salvaged what we could and fed the rest to the birds. I am pretty excited to use the soap!

Anyways, all of that to say, though i always understood the "live by the day" mentality, i have never really been in a position where i have really and truly had to live by that philosophy. I think there are lessons to learn on both sides. Again, if our children grow up on the streets with the "live by the day" mentality, it makes it harder for them to later reintegrate into society if or when they come off the streets; they act spontaneously and often cannot grasp the concept of "saving". But on the other side, those people that have an abundance of "stuff", and they continue just to collect more, and are looking to that for happiness...i am here to tell you, the rats are real, and your stuff will just end up getting eaten one day or another! I guess we can all learn from this!

Day 3: 27 November - You are NOT welcome!

2008-11-27T17:36:00.000+02:00

It is very interesting as i really "sink" into street life; it is interesting to view a life that i have known "so well" (for the past eight years) from another angle. I mean, i know about street life, in my first three years here in South Africa i spent more time on the streets than i did in my flat, but that was still an "outsiders" perspective. Even though the kids invited me into their lives and showed me all about street life, told me stories, and i walked with them through so much, it was still not a full taste of "street life".

I am only three days into this journey but i know i don't smell so hot! The poor guy sitting next to me in the Internet cafe keeps looking this way out of the corner of his eyes. I don't look quite as "kept" as i did on the first day. I am more sunburned. My eyes are a little bloodshot from who knows what; maybe it's my allergies acting up from sleeping next to the flowers. I did get given some new shoes. They are pretty funny and are attracting quite a bit of attention. They are white, but one is painted neon orange and the other is painted neon yellow. "Beggars can' be choosers!". Those words have never rang so true!

Anyways, i was walking back to town from the Waterfront today, with a BIG sack of rolls someone gave me. I am sure i was quite a sight, but people couldn't help but look at me with in different judgments; some thought it was funny, others held their purses tighter, others just looked in unbelief. I probably would have laughed at myself if i would have been them! Wise Guy was walking with me, and he keeps much more clean than i ever will be able to on the streets! We passed by a traffic light where we had tried to hand out 365 Days of Activism flyers on the first day. We were about five minutes into it that day and a security came to us and told us we had to have a permit. Today when we passed by there were two different groups of people handing out flyers. I asked them if they had a permit and sure enough, they did not. Wise and i walked on and low and behold who was standing there but the security that had chased us away, and he was merely standing their watching the group hand out their flyers.

Wise and i questioned him about it and he actually lied and said that it was not him. But it was. Wise reckons he looked at our tattoos and decided we were a danger to hand out flyers. Anyways. Yesterday morning i got to the soup kitchen early and ran into an old friend who lives on the streets. We had allot to catch up on because the last time i saw him was maybe a year ago, in Manenberg and there was a drive by shooting one block away and i had to leave quickly. Anyways. We sat on the steps right in front of St. Georges Cathedral and spoke. After a few minutes a CCID security came up and told us we had to move. I was not planning on arguing.

Just as i was standing up Melvin, my friend, began arguing with him. He had pain and anger in his voice. "How many times a day do i see foreigners sitting in this same spot looking at maps and books?! They sit here for hours and you don't ask them to move and i am here for a few minutes and i have to move!? I am a South African citizen!". This is true. It happens to be a spot where a tour bus drops tourists and i see them sit there on a daily basis. As a matter of fact, later that day i saw a group of business people sitting there eating lunch with the same security guard nearby. But that makes no difference. Melvin's argument was not heard. We moved. Melvin mumbled threats under his breath as we walked away.

You know, i of all people know the trouble that the "youth" living on the streets can cause. But it is also sad when we forget to treat people like humans. I do want to come to a day when there is not one single child living on the streets. But at the same time, if there are people living on the streets, young or old, they deserve to be treated with respect and dignity, or we cannot expect that back from them. Even initiatives, present and future, we come up with to eradicate homelessness amongst youth should be done in a respectful way, with the youth's best interests in mind! It is insightful to experience street life from the "other side". I don't just hear about the problems the kids, encounter i experience them. I don't just "see" the looks and judgements from people, i feel them!

day 3 pics.

2008-11-27T16:57:00.000+02:00

i met up with ryan and wise guy at the waterfront today. here's some pics!!!

2008-11-27T08:20:00.000+02:00

these are some photos i have taken over the time with brown

i hope it gives you more insight into his world...

brown's guide on the streets - ralph / wise guy

of strong heart and warm smile

this man is a champion

bed time

walking home...

long street night life...

brown is seen here in muizenberg on his first day with his chinese fortune given to him by a friend: actions speak louder than words

Day 3: 27 November (morning)

2008-11-27T07:15:00.000+02:00

Wow! I slept like a LOG last night!!! I was so exhausted from the combination of waking up so early and walking around all day that i barely moved the whole night! I vaguely remember some friends coming by late at night (or maybe it was early morning) and bringing me a bag a leftovers from their dinner. I have so many things running through my mind today, so many things i want to write about, but i actually think for now i will just keep it simple. Instead i will just make a list of...

Things i take for granted on a daily basis:

STRONG coffee in the mornings
an easily accessible toilet (most especially late at night and early in the mornings)
being able to easily wash my clothes
being able to eat pretty much anytime i want, not to mention the choice of food that comes with it
good shoes
pain pills of some sort (I went to sleep with a big headache last night)
hot showers
easily accessible faucet to drink water out of
my car
having a place to keep my "valuables" all day and not having to carry them around with me everywhere (keeping in mind that my "valuables" have also changed seeing that the most valuable thing i have with me now is my blanket)
tooth brush
soap
the capacity to "buy things"
and even this Internet connection that i am using right this second. seeing that it is prepaid i don't even know how long it will last!

There is definitely more stuff that i take for granted on a daily basis, but those are the things that come to mind very quickly! I have about an hour and a half until Crippie is open. I am hungry and ready for breakfast! After that i am walking to the Waterfront because i actually have to perform there at the 100 hour music marathon that is starting today. That should be interesting and fun! i will be back tonight to let you know how the day went!

Day 2: 26 November (evening)

2008-11-26T19:17:00.000+02:00

Well it was a LONG day!!! i don't think have have woke up that early in a while! And i had quite a few hours to kill before breakfast at 9:00. It was great meeting up with everybody at "Crippie" (the soup kitchen in St Georges Cathedral). I had some stew and it was really good! As the day went on i walked around and visited with different people. I didn't have any money today, and the reality of not being able to just go and buy a Coke weighed heavy on my head!! Yes, i am in addict! But fortunately i ran into Shane on the Grand Parade and he bought a 300 Ml Coke that we shared. I think the guys know i love Coke more than food! Wise Guy bought me one last night!

Anyways, i had to go to Beth Uriel for my regular Wednesday meeting with two young guys i work with. Gerald from Homestead offered to give me a lift there this morning when he popped into Crippie I was thankful because my feet are pretty sore!! i wore some old shoes and half of the sole fell out on the way from my flat to the Muizenberg train station. Now my left foot is cooked when i walk and it hurts pretty bad. I will have to see what i can do about another pair of shoes! By the end of the day i had not eaten anything and was starting to get a little light headed. I had also not had a chance to make any money so i didn't know what i was going to do. Fortunately, the big dudes, that used to be laaities (kids) are looking after me and Stan gave me ten rand to buy some food. They are really taking care of me out here!

But it is yet again a harsh reminder of the children that come to the streets without that kind of care and protection from others. The streets are not a place for children! I have known that, but each and every minute i "live" here, i see it more and more!!!

2008-11-26T17:10:00.000+02:00

Sorry, I forgot to add this picture of us last summer when we went bowling!

life on the streeets

2008-11-26T16:55:00.000+02:00

My brother tells me life on the streets is hard. I help with it. I raise money for my brother Ryan and when he comes home we get things for the kids he works with. Like last time when he came we got some pajamas for three of the kids he works with. They wear them day and night. I put $1 every week from my allowance in a drawer and I hardly ever get to see Ryan so when he comes home, it's a lot of money! They're not reallly street children, they're just kids that live on the street. I want other people to find out about their lives. People haven't even taken the time to find out about them. People should try to understand the children. Ryan's living on the street to get people to notice him so he can tell them. That's what he says in all his songs at least. I love Ryan. He's my older brother that loves me even though he's far, far away. Be careful Ryan! Watch out for the rats!!

the silent anguish.

2008-11-26T13:55:00.001+02:00

hi there! i'm ashley, ryan's wife. i'm incredibly proud of what my husband is doing over these next 16 days. since he left home yesterday morning, i've thought of him many times. and my phones have been ringing off the hooks. i have 2 things i want to write about.
i remember when i first moved to cape town. i started working in a project with about 15 kids who had run away from home and were starting to live on the streets of muizenberg, just outside of cape town. i remember the shock and anguish i went through those first few weeks. each time i rained, i was in tears. each time it was too hot outside, i was thinking those kids would melt or die of heat. each time i laid in my nice warm bed, i thought of the hard concrete ground their little bodies laid upon. each time i indulged in a hearty meal, i thought of their stomachs filled with chips and sweets, a diet void of nutrients that a growing boy needs.
my journal was my closest friend. i spent hours dumping my thoughts, worries, concerns, obsessiveness onto those pages. i went to bed most nights in tears, totally torn up over the injustice of it all.
as i got to know the families of these kids, i realized some of the reasons why they had run away. alcoholism, drug addiction, domestic violence, poor education system--there were so few structures and "pluses" of staying at home. each kid had at least one parent on drugs. each kid had been abused, most of the sexually. i saw mom's hit their kids, swear at their kids, throw food at their kids each time they tried going home. i started realizing that, in the kids minds, it wasn't a toss-up decision of home or street...street life was freedom, independence, and a chance to not be hurt by those closest to you.
my constant thinking of the kids physical needs subsided and i started thinking deeper, past the outside and into the roots of their problems.

all this is to say that there is a silent anguish buried within each of them. a small child wanting love and boundaries. a confused kid who has seen too much for their age. a child among many, born to a young mother who cannot care for herself, much less a kid. i began to think so often about that silent anguish, the pain so strong and deep that life became a constant attempt to numb that pain. the rejection, the carelessness, the meaninglessness of it all.

that's why i believe is people like ryan, gerald, lindsay...some of the writers on this blog. people who walk the daily road with these kids, who aren't afraid of that darkness.

i urge each of you readers to reconsider your actions to those less fortunate than yourself. imagine a world where you were never hugged, loved, encouraged, touched, fed, or taught the ways of life. imagine being truly alone in the world. and the next time you see a kid in need, stop and allow yourself to be changed by his situation. be brave enough to enter the anguish he carries.

Day 2: 26 November (morning)

2008-11-26T07:15:00.000+02:00

Good morning to you! As you can see i survived my first night's sleep on the streets. I am about to go eat breakfast at the soup kitchen but wanted to come and give you a quick report back before i eat. The soup kitchen doesn't open for another two hours anyways! We were up EARLY this morning!!! I am sleeping near next to the flower stalls on Adderley street with Wise Guy, and we had to be up before the people that sell flowers get there to set up. Wise Guy is 38 and has been on the streets for 28 years. He has ALOT of respect on the streets and knows the "routine" by now!

So, before i came here to live on the streets i had many people asked me if i was nervous or scared. I really wasn't at all, and definitely not for the reasons people thought i should be. I think people thought i would be scared i would get robbed, or stabbed, or whatever, but that really isn't a fear of mine. I did tell people that the only people i am concerned that might harass me are the police and securities, but so far i haven't had any incidents with them. There is one factor that i did not even think about however! Something that i am pretty scared of!

Last night, just as "sleeping" time was approaching, i was sitting talking to some of the guys and Shawn mentioned the rats. You know, in all my time in Cape Town, i have seen MANY rats, some HUGE ones that are more the size of small dogs, but for some reason, when considering living on the streets for 16 days, the rats did not even cross my mind. Shawn said to me, "Yeah, just make sure you keep your ears covered because the rats come and bite them in the night!". I looked around a bit and saw at least five rats scurrying around where i would be sleeping a few minutes later. That is when i realised that there is one thing i am a little scared of!! Wise Guy said the rats in Cape Town are pretty tough. When you stomp and make noise trying to scare them away they just stand up on their back legs and growl back at you! I am not a fan of rats of any kind, but most especially not gangster rats!!!

Anyways, i had a good nights sleep, with no serious confrontations with the rats, but it did remind me of yet another factor that makes the streets an unsuitable place for children! I will be back later to tell you how the day goes!

Day 1: 25 November

2008-11-25T17:02:00.000+02:00

Well, even though i am sitting here in this Internet cafe, i am in fact "homeless"! I am using this prepaid account i set up last week. This morning i left my house for the streets. It was a surreal. I wasn't expecting it to be emotional or anything, but it sure was a strange feeling to walk away from my flat, with absolutely no money, cell phone, and no changes of clothes, knowing that i would not return for 16 days. It was liberating in some ways, and strangely eerie in others. But i feel great about it. I have been in Cape Town long enough. Seen way too much! And talked until i was blue in the face about the injustice of allowing children to live on the streets. It was time to do something radical and ACT!

Funny enough, a friend of mine ate at a Chinese restaurant the night before last, and when i saw her yesterday she said, "I've got something for you!!!". Then she pulled a little "fortune" out of her pocket. She had gotten it in a cookie the night before. She handed it to me and told me that it was MY fortune and was exactly what i was about to embark on. I took it from her and looked down at it, "Actions speak louder than words." Perfect! And i hope that this "fortune" does ring true over the next 16 days! That people would HEAR and RECEIVE the message in my ACTIONS!

So today i rode the train to town. I hung out a bit with some of the people that will be documenting (filming) my street journey over the next 16 days, and showed them all of my "hang out" spots so they would be able to find me. After they left i just kind of settled in. I needed to drop some 365 Days of Activism shirts off at a friends house in an area near the top of town so i took a walk up. On my way i met Jerome, a "kid" that i haven't hung out with in a while. I have known Jerome since he was tiny! He was one of the first kids i met in town. He is now twenty or so. He was actually the first kid i "took off the streets" way back in 2000. That didn't last long and he ran away from the institution a few months later. Anyways, he is much bigger, and into more trouble now, but he has has an enormous amount of respect for me, and speaks to me as though he is still that young kid i once knew. He walked with me today to drop the shirts.

As we walked we talked and it was great catching up! He told me a funny story (which may not be all that "funny" to you). One night Jerome and a friend were hanging out in a certain area and saw a "white guy" approaching and decided to rob him. As they approached the guy Jerome said they could sense the fear in the guys eyes. When they got right up on the guy, before they could say or do anything, apparently, the guy said, "I know Ryan!". Jerome said they took a step back and said, "Oh! OK." and then they "left him". They had a brief chat with him about how he knew me and then he went happily on his way. Now they see him all the time and greet him and he friendlily greets back. As we walked, Jerome continued to tell me stories, many of them involving crime. But he was not bragging, or showing off, he was just telling me about what was going on in his life. I noticed how calloused he is to the life he is living but at the same time i could see that respectful, sweet kid that i have always known. Unfortunately many people, especially walking around late at night, do not get to see that side of him!

It is because of "kids" like Jerome that i hope my ACTIONS echo in every corner of Cape Town and are HEARD by all. He was just an innocent kid, full of potential, with the capacity to respect and be respected, with a warm heart and a great sense of humor, but he was ALLOWED, as that small child, to go and live on the streets. Now that same child does exist somewhere deep down inside of him, but he really only makes occasional guest appearances, and the hardened "man" that the streets created will most probably rob you if he sees you. It could have been different. But we cannot change the past. That is why i hope my ACTIONS can make some difference, even if it is very small, on the "Jeromes" of the future!

It is almost time for my first night's sleep on the streets. Talk to you tomorrow!

Hamba Gahle, Brown

2008-11-25T15:34:00.000+02:00

I didn't think "have fun!" or "enjoy your sixteen days on the street!" was the appropriate send-off. So I'm sticking with "hamba gahle," - go well.

Go well and learn.

Go well and encourage.

Go well and stimulate discussion.

Go well and cause controversy.

Go well and promote justice.

Go well and bring healing.

Go well and be changed.

Go well and change us all.