29th of August. Wednesday

Syabonga drinking tea on a cold morning

This is a bit of a bulk entry. I am moving houses, so have been quite busy. All will go back to normal next week.

Ok, so Olga is back. Her troubles seem to be somehow related to a previous operation she had with a pregnancy gone wrong.

Thandi is still in Hospital. No one can really tell us what's going on. One minute they say she is to be operated on, next minute she is not. We also don't know how long they plan to keep her. Apparently by some demented twist of fate - the crazy man that hit Figile came and threatened her in hospital. I am definitely going to kill him.

Thandi's nephew came and took a change of clothes for her. Olga, who keeps having to go back to the hospital, also keeps visiting her. I will post as soon as I know more.

There is a crazy woman in the street. I don't know her name but she gets quite agro. She recently hit Figile with a crate and threatened Maria. Figile had a swollen arm, but she is better now.

In rather more disturbing news, I had the pleasure of meeting the head of NORA - Norwood/Orchards resident association. This is how it happened:
As Colleen and I stood outside, talking to Maria and Olga - we saw a Metro cop circling. He left and came back half an hour later, this time accompanied by a whole bunch of Norwood residents - the guy from the book shop, the large man from next door, etc.
''Look at those people, just sitting there'' - they were saying.
''And they pee on the wall too''
''Why must they sit here? why can't they get a job" - Hmmm... good point. I mean it's not like there is a huge unemployment rate or anything.
''They all look healthy, they can work''.
This is the part where Colleen piped up:
- actually most of these ladies are seriously ill.

This is when we met Chantal, the head of NORA. She runs a wedding dress shop in the area. We told her as much as possible about what we knew of the homeless in her area and their lives. We also tried to tell her that the Metro Police being called has an unnecessarily devistating effect on the community and doesn't solve anything. She agreed to meet with us in the near future to discuss what can be done

If anyone wants to help out with suggestions, comments on the situation etc directed at NORA - please post them here and we will pass them on

Introductions - Olga

Olga is the new kid on the block. She appeared sometime last week and just walked up to me and started chatting. She is very friendly and pleasant. When I asked if I could take a picture, she took of her jersey, assumed this sexy pose above and smiled at me: 'Yes please' :-)

Olga has a boyfriend. he does some sort of road works. He is a small guy that speaks little English, and was great at taking care of her when she was sick.

Colleen told me the saddest story today. She says Olga told her that when she woke up in the park this morning, she looked at the small piece of wall next to which she sleeps. Still half asleep she thought to herself for a second that she was waking up in a house... Until she realised she was still in the park

Olga found this hysterical.
We found it heart breaking

Aside: 'I will have to start all over again'

This article was originally published on page 11 of The Star on August 24, 2007

By Botho Molosankwe

With his eyes closed, his hands on his head and a look of despair on his face, Jermaine George walks away from the place he called home.

It wasn't much, but it was all he had.

George lived with several other homeless people under the bridge over Bree Street in Fordsburg.

Among the blankets when he went to sleep on Thursday night was a bag that held all his possessions - clothes, ID book and phone numbers of relatives.

Now he has lost it all.

Residents say that at 7am on Thursday the police swooped on the area.

They told the "residents" to put their hands against the wall, searched them, put them in police vehicles - and then torched their belongings. While in the vans, the people who lived under the bridge were not aware of what was happening and could only see smoke.

When they got out, they were stunned by the sight that greeted them.

The checkered pants, takkies and blue shirt George was wearing on Friday morning when the police arrived are the only possessions he has left. The fire destroyed all he owned.

He and his friends had called the littered space under the bridge home for years. Although not much, it was all that they had. It had blankets, food, clothes and toiletries. Some of the belongings were handouts, while some had been bought with the money from their daily odd jobs.

Now it is all gone.

For Abrachman Idries, who was hurt in an accident and wears a spinal cord-supporting brace, the medication to help him heal was lost in the fire.

Some people are determined to make the place home again and soon after the police left they began clearing up.

"I will have to start all over again," said George.

--The Star will donate blankets to the people who lost their possessions in the fire.

24th of August. Friday

When you look at the image above, what's the first thing that comes to mind? A fun thing to watch on a Friday?

Didn't think so.
Now try putting not one, but two homeless people in an ambulance in one day.

First it's Olga. Her pain is so bad she cant even lift herself off the ground. A lady from Carlos, Gwen, who is a trained paramedic happens to walk past. She attends to her and gets an ambulance. They arrive, due to her insider pull I am sure, within 20 minutes. We get Olga on an ambulance and hope for the best.

Sure as hell, not even an hour later Samantha calls me. Thandi's nose just wont stop bleeding. I run over and see this giant puddle of blood on the ground. I panic. Aragorn and I run over to Carlos to get Gwen. She drops everything and comes with us. She estimated a liter of blood to be lost and calls an ambulance. They send out life support that arrives withing 20 minutes (Bless you Gwen). A lovely guy called Kevin attends to Thandi, and I must commend him on his level of professionalism. Thandi's heartbeat was through the roof. He put her on a drip, hooked her up to a machine... and we sat in the cold for 2 hours waiting for a bloody ambulance, while people in expensive cars insisted on parking almost on top of us, despite Kevin telling them he needed to keep the space clear for his ambulance. Riddle me this: when You see a life support vehicle, a lady covered in blood and a paramedic attending to her, is your first thought 'OOH look, a free parking!''? WTF!? Poor Kevin. I am sure he has enough crap to deal with, trying to save lives, and here he is having to argue with some selfish rich person.

After Thandi finally left - I went over to Carlos to have a much-needed drink and thank Gwen and Lesleigh for everything they did for us. They allowed me to take a photo.



Here they are, the new owners of Carlos coffee shop. Both of them are trained paramedics and Gwen used to run a children's shelter. Admirable people and by far the nicest, kindest and most genuine residents of Norwood. They selflessly went out of their way to help Olga and Thandi, so you'd all better support their business :-)

Introductions - Samson

Remember Sam and Virginia from earlier? Samson is Sam's brother. They work together. Good looking, charming, incredible people, with a hell of a lot of talent.

Samson is the brain behind the sculptures. Him and his brother where taught how to make wire sculptures in school. Now he says that the times are changing and he has to keep up with all the new technology, so he has started adding beads to his creations.

I met him during the first Metro cop rade. I was scared of the 30+ cops walking around and causing trouble, so I went to the far end of the parking lot and stood next to him. He told me about all the previous times have taken all his things from him. He said something that really stuck with me:
- I am just trying to make an honest living. I work very hard, and they keep taking everything away. What do they want me to do? I have a family to feed! Do they want me to do crime??

Sam makes things to order too. Check out his stuff sometime.

Aside: No 1266/07 - end of journey

By Alex Eliseev (The Star)

Date: August 24, 2007

The lone journey

Part 1: Out of the cold room into a coffin

For 55 days he lay on a shelf in a dark mortuary cold-room, waiting for someone to unlock his secrets. Now his time is up.

One of the 14 cheap, chip-wood coffins lined up outside has his number on it.

He has no name. Only the number. "1266/07".

This is the final chapter for the homeless man who froze to death on a Joburg pavement while an enchanting blanket of snow fell over the city for the first time in 23 years.

His entire existence is summed up in one sentence on a police report: "found dead on the street".

While he lay in cold room No 40, routine efforts were made to uncover his identity.

But hope died on August 10.

On that day news came that his fingerprints - which were tested by both the police and Home Affairs - had come back unknown.

He was not a convicted criminal. He may have been a foreigner or, perhaps, he simply never applied for an ID document. Whatever the case, he was invisible.

Police Inspector Mongezi Ngubane - investigating the death - had just two families who came to look at the body. Neither knew him.

The grey-bearded man's final journey begins early on Tuesday morning.

Two surgically masked men arrive at the door of the cold room, open it and locate his number. They haul the naked body on a bloody steel trolley.

Outside the back entrance, all but three coffins spread out on the ground have been filled. All will be buried in pauper's graves the next day.

The undertakers, like construction workers, push the trolleys. Like wheelbarrows of sand, they tip the metal tray over at each coffin. One by one, the corpses slide off and fall into the wooden boxes.

Some fit perfectly into the narrow coffins. Other bodies are stiff and stubborn and have to be pushed in. It's a grim routine.

At 12.11pm, body No 1266/07 tumbles into its coffin with a thump.

The corpse is wrapped in a plastic sheet - lining each of the coffins - and a lid is placed.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Four nails are driven in at 12.15pm. The man's mysteries imprisoned.

There are 14 adult coffins and six baby coffins - no larger than a shoebox. At 12.30pm the loading begins.

One of the workers is sitting on the ground several meters from the coffins, catching a short break.

When he's called to help he swears loudly.

"Shit!"

He seems exhausted and troubled. But duty calls and, while mumbling more angry words, he takes up his place.

Each coffin has four handles and it takes four men to lift them onto the truck. Body 1266/07 is the last adult one to go in. The baby coffins are feather-light and one man takes care of all of them before locking up.

The engine awakens and the truck leaves the mortuary through a narrow tunnel.

The sun shines as the white truck weaves through the small streets of Braamfontein.

It finds the offramp to the highway and heads towards Soweto. It passes Southgate shopping centre and turns onto Old Potch Road.

The truck has no markings on it. It blends into the thousands of others making deliveries all over town. There are no flowers. No ribbons. No music.

This is a delivery - not a funeral cortege.

The truck driver has a heavy foot and darts from lane to lane. Bara hospital is on the left, the bustling taxi rank on the right. In the distance the colourful twin chimneys of the former Orlando power station against the blue sky.

There is life all around. Except inside the truck.

Part 2: The Funeral

Eunice Mlangeni prays for the forgotten. She is the only guest at the funeral of body number 1266/07 and the others at Ennerdale cemetery in Elandsfontein.

With silence all around, the woman reads Psalms 90 from her tattered Bible.

The contract between the government and the undertaker makes this final mercy compulsory.

The 20 bodies spent a night at Kay Vee Funerals, the Soweto-based undertakers. The digger is only available on Wednesday for the men and women with no names.

By the time the burial takes place the sun is blazing. The desolate hills are covered in endless fields of dry grass.

The procedure is simple: one grave, three coffins and soil to cover the dusty grave.

Three workers use long metal rods to lower the coffins into the holes.

Because of their size, the babies receive their own, more shallow graves.

Each one takes no longer than a minute or two.

The burials are short but dignified. Afterwards discarded surgical masks and gloves are thrown into the graves.

Because of thefts, the cemetery has stopped using small metal plates for grave numbers and now places cement blocks on the ground.

Markings are crucial in case a family comes forward and demands an exhumation.

At 10.19am the homeless man is lowered into the ground. He is the first in the grave, and takes up "position 1". Once they come in, two more coffins will be placed above him. But today he is the last of the bodies to be buried.

There, underground, is where all his answers will lie. Where was the homeless nomad born, did he have a family and how did he land up on the streets?

Police discovered the body on the corner of Noord and Wanderers streets in downtown Joburg in the early hours of June 27.

The old man collapsed at the same time as hundreds of cellphones across the city must have been ringing to spread the news of the rare snowfall. Families were rushing out to make snowmen and take photographs filled with giant grins.

The old man died alone. It appeared he succumbed to natural causes and no crime scene investigations were done. No photographs were taken and no detective was called out. The body arrived at the morgue at 3.10am.

Forensic pathologists described the man as "Neglected. No injuries."

He was 1,7m tall but weighed just 42kg. Lice were found in his armpits. The cause of death was: "Pneumonia (natural)."

The mortuary eventually guessed his age at 72. But that's only a guess.

The fingerprints were, in reality, the man's only hope. No one was going to go the extra mile for him.

A Star reader volunteered R1 000 for a burial - but regulations don't allow for that unless a body has been identified.

Inspector Ngubane will now ask his commander to close inquest docket 1772/06/07 - a request likely to be granted as the trail of clues has ended.

In the first five months of this year Gauteng mortuaries recorded 607 unclaimed bodies.

The year before that had 1 584.

Week after week various undertakers take truck-loads of paupers from morgues and hospitals to cemeteries. Week after week Mlangeni reads from her Bible and raises her hands to the empty hills.

And that's how the story ends.

The nameless vagrant has now taken on a new and final number:

Grave No 4153.

23nd of August, Thursday

Ever had one of those shockingly bad days? Do you ever feel like huddling in the corner afterwards, wishing away the thoughts that just won't go? I think of people who deal with suffering and hardship as a job and on daily bases, and how they learn not to take the events of the day home with them at night... How???

I arrived at work at about 9. Michael came up to me to announce that the cops came again.. sigh. This time Maria beat them to it and hid her stuff just before they came. Failing to torture her in the usual way of taking away her basic belongings - they took away the crate she sits on. It's almost comical - big men coming all the way to take away a poor woman's crate. Is this what we pay for with our taxes??? hey, don't bother catching real criminals or anything. Pick on the homeless people, why dontcha!!! AAAARRRRGH.

Ok so that blew over. For lunch we served cake which my brother donated to me, sandwiches and fruit. I met a new person, Olga. I will introduce her soon. She sits where Francina used to sit.

Michael got me to type out his letter for his agent who is taking his album, Bridge into the future, to Germany to try get sponsorship... I made Colleen type it. Serves her right for always being so nice.

Anyway. Thandi really wasn't looking good. Colleen has formed a genuine relationship with her and decided to take her to the local GP instead of missioning her all the way to a free clinic. At about 2 we took her through to try and see if anything can be done. Poor Thandi could barely walk. She was very light headed and had been throwing up all morning

The doctor is an absolutely amazing lady, who tried to make Thandi feel as reassured as possible. Considering her diagnosis - it wasn't easy.

She measured her heart beat and it was way too fast. It appears Thandi is having heart failure. The doctor put it down to her poor life style, nutrition etc. It's no wonder that at the age of only 53 Thandi looks so terribly old and worn. On top of that Thandi has Aids - or so I gather.

Half way through the appointment Thandi's nose started bleeding like a stream. I felt torn between wanting to help and being afraid of touching her blood. Aids is scary like that. I could pratically see the word 'desease' in front of me. We eventually managed to stop the nose bleed with an icepack. It was all in all very scary.

The doctor prescribed a course of antibiotics and some heart tablets. I will get the names from Colleen tomorrow. The total cost of the experience was R140, which isn't so bad.

We took Thandi back. She looked so worn out, it broke my heart. Colleen is keeping the medicine for her so that it doesn't get taken from her, like everything else. We will keep telling ourselves that everything will be better now, when the truth is: The woman with a failing heart is going back out into the street. This is by no means a sustainable lifestyle and if she doesn't make it - it will not be a dignified death.

Did my day end there? No. My new friend Olga is in a lot of pain. It's in the lower part of her stomach, on the right and spreading all around her body. She was lying on the ground and crying from the pain. Her boyfriend came and fetched her things from me. He didn't speak much English and looked super worried. I didn't even know how to start helping her. I gave her some of my painkillers - 2 for now and 2 for later. I left her my number in case it got worse. I also left my number with the other ladies, who promised to look after her. I am dreading going back tomorrow to find out that the problem has not passed. If she is not better - I am guessing we will have to take her somewhere.

I have a very bad back. I know what it's like to be in such excruciating pain that all you can do is lie there and cry. I don't however know what it's like not to have the comfort of your own bed, or access to medical care, or any of the basic comforts one should have in a situation like this.

It's scary how bad things are getting in that street. I am not good with feeling helpless. I know that with time we can generate enough interest in these people and change some things. I look forward to that time. Unfortunately when you look closely at the individual cases at hand - Time isn't necessarily a luxury we can afford.