Life in the streets

Living in the streets of East London is nothing new or scary anymore to the young man Xolile who’s only 20 years old. He moved from Centane to the big city to seek a better life, little did he know that the life he once dreamed of was just only a dream. He could go for days without food and sometimes he ate from the dustbins and that made him vomit and he had no choice but to go to bed on an empty stomach. He is living from begging people for food and money.

When things didn’t go as he imagined he resorted to drugs and pick pocketing people for a living. It is the survival of the fittest out there because not every day you get food and nice place to sleep on. It is dangerous even for the hobos at night, the old guys intimidate them and they beat them if they don’t follow their rules, like stealing for them.

In winter it’s even worse, there are no blankets to keep him warm from the cold. If I get lucky and find myself something warm to wear I pray wholeheartedly to the almighty even if the clothes are rags. I never imagined that I could be living from the streets and asking people for food let alone stealing from and sometimes it gets hard because I get forced to stab people when they try to resist me.

I cannot go back home, I don’t have money for transport and I don’t think I can be able to live without my drugs because they are inside my blood I live for them. I wouldn’t want my family to see me this way at least if I go back dead I won’t see the disappointment from my parents. I wish I can do better for myself and go back to school but it’s impossible, the drugs control my life. My life is so hard I sleep on concrete every night of my life with cupboards covering me, the police chase us from the streets and I find myself homeless for the second time. When I am high on my drugs nothing matters anymore I don’t feel anything, I don’t think about my family if they care or they’ve given up on thinking I am dead or something.