The Homeless Population of South Africa by Anna Hartman

Simply walking down the street in Capetown or Johannesburg can tell you much about the polarized demographic in South Africa. Every day we are overwhelmed by the army of homeless that populate the street corners, parks, and doorframes of Capetown and Johannesburg. When we see men and women sleeping on manicured lawns and begging for handouts in affluent shopping areas, we are reminded of the extreme gap between the rich and the poor. We can’t help asking, why do the rich have so much when the poor have so little? There seems to be no middle, no balance between the elite and the marginalized homeless of South Africa. What happens to the some 100 million citizens who can’t even afford to live in townships like Alexandria? Where do they belong?

I was lucky enough to have my work placement in Capetown be at St. George’s Arch, a soup kitchen run by the church. Everyday at nine in the morning, the doors open to the public. For just R1.50 (that’s about 25 cents American), they can eat rice, soup, and white bread. Many in the area come and wait in line to eat and watch TV in peace, without worrying about police or the hot sun. At the Arch, I was given the chance to not only serve many their only meal for the day, but I was also to talk and interact with them. At first I was apprehensive about being there, so I began to explore my own stereotypes and stigmas about the homeless. We tend to regard the poor as dangerous, dirty, sick, addicted to drugs, and we never let our guards down enough to relate to them. I found as I mingled with them that many of them are intelligent, politically aware, and wise. They wanted to discuss their frustrations with the government, aid organizations, and the social structure of South Africa. One man I spoke with, Sydney, discussed with me the idea of a homeless person’s identity. He talked about how even though he is a South African citizen, he has no rights, and is shown no respect. He told me about how the police in Capetown constantly bagger the homeless in these areas, waking them up in the night, forcing them to move again and again. In consequence, the homeless community does not sleep during the night, and are not allowed to even stand in one place for a long period of time. They belong nowhere. Sydney felt that he had to challenge the local government on the behalf of his homeless brother and sisters. He went to parliament and petitioned over and over for the police to be more lenient. His persistence paid off, and his victory was won for everyone who goes to the Arch. His story reminded me that anyone could affect change in his or her community. Though Sydney had little education, his determination helped the homeless in the Capetown area claim their constitutional rights to dignity.

South Africa has an unemployment rate of around 25 percent, with most of those unemployed lacking the necessary skills and education to retain work. Many who end up on the street have mental or physical deficiencies, are HIV positive, and are unable to care for themselves. Others leave their homes because of domestic abuse or rape. Often the homeless have grown up on the street from a young age and know nothing better. Children who can’t be supported are abandoned, and are left to fend for themselves. Many of the homeless population here are immigrants and refugees from other African and Asian countries. Some of the women who come to the Arch are pregnant or have babies already. They rely on the church community for handouts and help raising their children. While I was there, I helped a woman bathe her six-month-old child in a small bucket. I was struck by the idea that this child may not ever know safety, nor have toys, a father, a home.

I was also touched by the story of a young woman, Tanya. She approached me after I was done working on the first day. She seemed to want nothing from me except my company. I listened to her talk about how since her rape at fifteen; she has been on the street. She is now twenty years old. She is my age. I talked with her about how every night she goes to the police station to sleep, and that she relies on churches in the area for food. At a break in the conversation, I commented on her small wooden bracelet. She immediately took it off her wrist and handed it to me. I protested but she insisted that it was a gift from her to me. I was blown away that someone who had nothing at all would be so giving. All that Tanya wanted was for me to understand what her life is like.

Men and women like Tanya and Sydney don’t have a place in this country. Their voices are often unheard or forgotten. The problems that the homeless population face are universal. These are the problems of the marginalized, those who are ignored by the government. Their stories should remind us that we need to listen, notice, ask, give what we can, sympathize and donate. It is important that we not only remember the stories of the homeless here in South Africa, but that we look at our own prejudices and interact with the homeless community in America. We need to give the homeless everywhere a voice; we can’t afford not to listen anymore.