A few weeks ago I told yawl about my, shall I dare to say hatred for the beggars of the Cape Town streets.
The thing I realized these last few weeks is that they are not all like that, you get those who are a complete and utter pain in the arse, but then you get those who you can’t believe are on street and whom you wish you could help in a bigger sense than just giving them some change.
A few nights back I ran into this girl I saw earlier this year and my heart just broke looking at her.
Here’s the story of how we met…
As I was walking home one windy winter evening a young lady stopped me to ask for a one rand. The clothes on her body was dirty but one could see that they were of good quality and being brand names must have cost a pretty penny.
Obviously being the skeptic that I am my first thought was that she wanted the money to make the ‘bod’ full for her next ‘bombie’. As the wind blew her sent in my direction the smell of alcohol was nowhere to be found and that made me look at her with a whole new perspective.
The first thought that crossed my mind was that she was definitely not looking for money for a ‘bompie’ coz if she was a ‘bompie’- drinker the smell would still have been there coz that smell stays with you for days.
When I took a better look at her I saw she was pregnant, probably five or six months…
Of course, that made me reach for my purse quicker than it takes the venom of a cobra to run through your blood.
Then I realized that I only have like fifty sent on me and the poor women’s lips were so dry that I knew a fifty sent would not really help her. She was content to taking that and buy herself some cheap chips, which I doubt that she would have been able to afford with a fifty sent, I mean they don’t sell anything for fifty sent anymore- where are the good old days???
So trying to be the good person that I am not, I decided to offer her my dinner of chicken and fries, which was hard for me to do coz I was as hungry as a Khalahari lion. In the end the angel in me won the fight with the devil. The sad part of that was it made me feel bad coz I could not help her more..
Then just as I was giving the food the devil in me won the other fight and I told her: “Well I’m giving you my food now, so you should also give me something” the look on her face was priceless, but luckily I did not want much just wanted to know how a beggar can wear real carvella shoes and levi jeans, though they were dirty they were still expensive and one could see it wasn't knock-off's.
Ag shame I should not have said that coz then the girl cried and told me her story: “ I am 18 years old and finished high school last year. My family lives in Plattekloof and they are well I would say rich. When my daddy found out that I was preggies he kicked me out. when i went to my boyfriend for help,he decided that he wants nothing to do with me or our child. According to him he could not even be sure it’s his child. So now I am roaming the streets hoping to find a place where I can rest my head at night. These other bergies told me about this shelter in Gardens, but I can’t seem to find it. Guess I’ll just have to keep looking. Thanks for the food, you are an angel.”
That almost had me in tears someone actually though of me as an angel, I don’t get that much. But what stayed with me was the cruelty of her parents, how can anyone be so cruel to your own child?
So a few nights ago I went to spar with my friend and then I saw this chick sitting there eating eagerly as only a real hungry person knows how to. So being the sweet and curious person I am, I went to ask her how she was, that she remembered me in a way was kind of kick for my ego.
So this one lady whom she met that night took pity over her and bought her some food. Then as I was talking to the girl the lady came back with a huge pack of pampers and baby formula and a few blankets and clothes. Apparently she had asked the girl to come and help her out at her home in exchange to helping the girl and her baby…
I had forgotten that there are some true angels among us like that lady, and some true devils, like her father.
The only thing I’m struggling with is where I fit in. I’m not exactly an angel, but I’m sure as hell not a devil!!!!!!!!!
The moral of my story is that you are what you choose to be, you could choose to be like her father a big mean nasty white hat wearing idiot or like the lady that made her lifestory better, a angel wearing human clothing.
The choice is still yours.
