With no presents or homes to go to, street children won’t see much festive cheer this season
Boetie Damane
While many, bolstered by seasonal good cheer and fat 13th cheques, are whipping themselves into a spending spree this Christmas, what is the state of the Yuletide economy for Mduduzi, Nhlanhla, Mpho & Co, teenaged members of a group of spaced-out street children in Johannesburg’s city centre?
The boys are members of a 12-strong group whose home is an empty vendor’s stand on the pavement at the corner of Marshall and Eloff streets, close to the city’s bus terminus.
The Christmas begging period is bringing in between R30 and R40 a day for each of them. They panda (beg) in the afternoons, after an early morning stint helping street vendors push trolleys to their sites, and back again later in the day (R3 to R5 each way).
After the early trolley run, the boys spend the rest of the morning hanging around their corner, parking and washing cars (R1 or R2).
“We go to Chicken Licken to beg in the afternoons,” says Nhlanhla. At 6pm he’s sitting on the pavement outside Chicken Licken’s entrance and customers are dropping loose change on to his outstretched palm, which already cups some coins.
Thabang and Vusi, both 15, are not really prepared to reveal how much they earn. “But we also go to Bruma Lake on Sundays to panda,” Thabang confides.
Bruma is the flea market where the tourists and fun-seekers flock; for beggers it yields more than the city.
“Shhoo! Iyadlisa i-Bruma [Bruma Lake is the best],” cries Vusi.
But Bruma is only once a week. Last Sunday Mpho (15) pulled in R35 there. Thabo (15) was given a R20 note. Mduduzi (16) made R50 and spent R11,50 of it on booze. Thabang was the lowest scorer with just R15.
How do they spend their earnings? Nhlanhla (15) buys a daily 125ml bottle of glue for R5,50 at Cosmetic Bar in Eloff Street; dagga at R2,50 a matchbox at Noord Street; bread and atchaar for R5. The rest goes on playing video games.
Among the group, only Ndebele is saving his money. From November until mid-December he put away R150, which is held in safe-keeping by a security guard. Ndebele plans to spend his kitty going home for Chrismas.
The rest will remain on the street, where no one will give them Christmas presents. It’s not a happy prospect; you can see it in their eyes. “Kubuhlungu [It hurts],” says Nhlanhla. He sniffs some glue as if to gather strength.
Vusi is less worried. For he’s a “working” street child, dispatched by his parents daily to the city centre, to beg. “I go home in the afternoons and return to panda the following day.”
“Chrismas is boring in the city; New Year’s day is the best,” concludes 15-year-old Mduduzi, whose sole possession is the glue bottle tucked under his shirt collar.
No one sleeps with money in their pockets. The boys stash it somewhere for the night, or they will wake up finding they’ve lost everything.
“Security” at night is supplied by older youths, mostly grown-up street children themselves. During the day they hang out on the street corner, smoking dagga, drinking and keeping a keen eye on the young ones as they return from their daily routines. They then rob them of their money.
Thabo (20) appears and offers food to the youngsters. He says he’s lived on the streets since he was “very young”. Recently he found a job with a flat, but he comes regularly to his old pavement dwelling place to check the boys.
Thabo introduces himself and asks what I want from the boys, “as I’ve taken responsibility to look after them”.
“Just chatting.” He’s satisfied and leaves us alone.
Deaf-and-dumb Bradley (16) is rumoured to earn a high income on the street, from sources unknown to the group. Via the others, who understand his sign language, Bradley says he spends his money mostly on dagga and buying crickets.
Crickets? What enjoyment do these noisy insects bring? Nhlanhla explains that although deaf, Bradley cups them in his hands and can hear the vibrating sounds they make when they sing.
Boetie Damane is a freelance journalist and qualified child and youth care worker