Small's story

 Small passed away in April (exact date unknown) 2017 of heart failure. I will always remember him for his cheerfulness in adversity and his beautiful spirit. He leaves a hole in my heart.

Small is a young man living and begging on the streets of Scottburgh. This is his story, transcribed and adapted from an interview.  Small is his nick name and the name by which he was known to his friends.

I was born in Braemar and stayed there with my granny and aunty, I didn’t know my father. He was locked up when for killing someone when I was six months old. My mother chose to live in Umzinto selling fruit, bananas , ice-cream on the street. She couldn’t afford the daily taxi back to Braemar. My aunty used to hit me because I never helped my sisters with the work around the house. One day when she hit me I fell and cracked a bone. My mother took me to stay in Umzinto. I was 9 years old and in std.2.

One day I saw a man in the taxi rank smoking zol (dagga). I wanted to try it, so I begged for the money and went to buy some. I went to the bush to smoke it. I was not drinking smoking, even gwaais (cigarettes) at the time. It is first time I did anything like that. I got goefed.(high) I also got hungry. I went home and finished all the food. It was a nice feeling. I felt like I’m right now. I can enjoy my day, I can forget all my problems, I can sleep at night. So I smoked again, the next day and the next. There was no-one to stop me. When my mother was not working she was drinking. She would get very drunk and hit me for nothing.

After about 4 months I found four older friends who were smoking  zol and I joined up with them every day. The oldest was 19. I was then 10 years old. I was still going to school at that time, but we would meet every day after school, and sometimes we would meet during school and smoke.

I like school and did the work. I passed std 2 , 3 and 4 even when I was smoking. I stayed in school till I was eleven. After I left school my principal would see me in the road. He would ask me, what are you doing here?  You are clever you should be in school.

Then one day my friend came with whoonga (cheap heroin). He told us he found it on the floor. He showed us how to smoke. I had never heard of it. I didn’t know it was dangerous. He came again the next day, and the next. He told us he was stealing it. The whoonga goef  is stronger than the zol. It is too nice, it make you want to feel like that all the time. During the school holidays we started to smoke it all day.

Then one day he came with nothing. He told us he couldn’t get any. I couldn’t sleep that night. I suffered my first rosta (withdrawal sickness). For a whole week we didn’t smoke. I couldn’t sleep. I was shaking, feeling hot, feeling cold, even my bones were sore. It felt like someone was choking me.  At first I did not know why I was feeling like that. So I asked the guy who was bringing it. He told me it is a rosta and you get it from smoking whoonga. I asked him what I must do to stop it. He told me the only thing I can do to feel right is to smoke more whoonga. This was when I left school and started to panta (beg) everyday. I needed to smoke to keep the pain away. This was more important than school. I told people I was hungry, I needed money for food, they felt sorry for me and gave me money, food, clothes. I used the money to buy whoonga.

During this time my mother moved to Dududu with her new husband. I have not seen her or heard from her in 3 years. My father came out of jail and I met him a couple of times. He moved to the Eastern Cape, so I do not know where my parents are. My sister came from Braemar to look after me, and for a while I stayed with her. Then I started going to Scottburgh because the people there give more money.

For three years now I am here on the streets in Scottburgh. Every night I must find a place to sleep : sometimes it is an empty house, sometimes by the beach, sometimes under a bush. Sometimes I am by myself , sometimes I join with other guys. I panta everyday. I don’t like to be like this, but there is nothing I can do because I need to smoke. People don’t like us because they say we steal. I never steal. I get enough money from the panta. I get around R100 a day sometimes R150 even R200. The other day I picked up R50. Sometimes I do small jobs. I wash cars, shop windows, push trolleys. I like to work, I do not feel good to ask for money for nothing.  I was arrested one time by the police. They caught me with one straw of whoonga. They took me to the cells and then to the court. I told the judge I have a problem I need help; I want to go to rehab. He just gave me a warning  and sent me out. They could’t help, they sent me back to the street.

Many people are kind, they have a good heart. They and give me money and food. But if I get money I use it to smoke so it is not really helping. Nobody is ever coming and saying why is it you are on the streets  and trying to help me stop whoonga or get off the streets. It is the first time now that I am starting to join the NA ( narcotics Anonymous ) meetings. It is only NA that is trying to help me.

 I am tired for this thing, I want to leave it. I am smoking for eight years. Now when I smoke it  is not making me to feel good. I am just feeling sad. I want to go back to school or to get a job and to help my sister. Please I am asking for help. If you can help I will appreciate, I won’t forget. I’m liking to go to NA meeting, I am enjoying that hour ... I am learning about drugs. If I can get clean I can go to help the other addicts, to go to the  schools to tell other children the drugs is dangerous. No-one is telling me that. I want to teach other children before so they don’t start to use.