Destroying my couch

Most of you don't know my couch. She is grey, old and tatty. She is a second hand piece of furniture and in comparison to other people's couches pretty average.

But I love her!

Every Friday night I have a battle on my hand. Shall I go back to the streets and engage with a broken and difficult world? Or do I sit on my beloved couch? It really ends up being a fight between couching and engaging.

                                              This is not my real couch - this is the dream!?!

Now my choice isn't just between the street and my couch. My choice is much bigger. I find it easy in life to make the easy choice. The choices where I can just sit back and do the bare minimum. I find it easy to disengage. We all have our couches - I mean not just literal couches. We all have those things that pull us into apathy.

What is your couch? (Tweet This)

Apathy, a state of non engagement, is our worst enemy!

We need to relax in life. Life is not all about doing, life is about being. (Tweet This) But from being we should engage in the world.

So on Friday I will go back to the streets. My couch will tempt me, but hopefully the needs, the challenges and pains of others will move me past my couch right into the arms of a broken story.

Kill the couch!!!

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Asanas Story

I spent time with the same 5 friends that I met last week. They all live in the vicinity of the dangerous park. They saw me and invited me to come and hang out with them.I ended up listening to the story of a young lady - the only girl in the group - called Asana. She is kind, strong, and young. I don't know why she ended up living on the streets, but her eyes tell a story of pain and hurt.

Pain makes you choose between dying off completely or coming back to life. (Tweet This)

This is her story 

My name is Asana. I am 20 years old. On the 24th of February I will be living on the streets for 13 years.

 I became homeless when I was 7 years old. My mom died 2 months before I left home. After my mom died, my life became difficult. I moved in with my grand parents. I slept in the same bed with my grand father. One day I left...

While I have been living on the streets people have tried to rape me. So I carry a knife. If anybody and I mean anybody tries to rape me I will stab them and fight them off.

On the streets, I found a group of guys to live with. During the first night one of the guys tried to rape me. The other guys f****d him up. He got what he deserved. Since then the other guys and I are like a family. We look out for each other and we share the little that we have.

When I am hungry I go and beg. Most people tell me to f*** off and get a job. I ask them for a job, but they tell me to f*** off. I want to work, but there are not many jobs. I do some ironing, washing and cleaning here and there.

The police can be difficult with us. Once, they took me and 2 girls and drove us halfway to Uitenhage, about 30km away, and released us in the middle of the bush. Why would you do that? Three girls, at night in the middle of nowhere. We were scared. The last time they tried to arrest me I wrestled with them till they had to call reinforcements. They needed 6 officers to put me in the van. That felt like a small victory. They were just arresting me because I am homeless.

I want to move off the streets. I want to live in a place where I can come home to and where I can feel safe. I am scared on the streets. I want to live in a house where somebody can give me rules and bed times.

Asana is stuck in her homeless life. For now.

Where do you feel stuck? What do you need to change in your life?

Share and Connect:
You can share this story on twitter by clicking here. I would love you to connect more with me through Facebook or Twitter. 

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Returning...

Back to the streets on Friday night caused a wide array of emotions. Firstly, the fear I felt last week returned as I thought about lying on a piece of cardboard, exposed on the street. On the other hand I was quite excited about meeting some new friends.

I parked my car in Stanley Street, one of the upmarket restaurant streets in the area. Hip and Vibey. The car guards try to convince me to park in their area as they think they will get a decent tip. My car, a company double cab, not mine at all - impresses them! They greet me warmly when I arrive.

Once I get out of my car, I take my blanket and my bed: a broken cardboard box. After about 5 steps, my car and I are not associated anymore. I am now seen as a homeless person. Suddenly the mood changes pretty quickly to "Why are you here"? The car guards who were so keen on me before, avoid me and make clear I am in the wrong street.

The people who sit at the comfy tables chatting away look at me with disapproval. This is an interesting dynamic for me, as with a different set of clothes I could put my legs under any of their tables and be at the heart of the party.

When did you judge someone by their appearance, clothes, looks, car...?

Stanley, who made his home on Stanley street, was driven away by business owners to "clean up" the area..

I headed back to the rougher parts of town where I seemed more accepted and had my usual chats with the 'local' Nigerians. I met a really nice guy called 'Chris'. We talked about life and some of it's struggles.

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Man Love

I am constantly searching for places to find love. I am a sucker for love. Honestly, we all are that way a bit. We are made to love and to be loved. I guess that is one of the ways we differ from animals.

As I walked at night, a homeless looking man crossed the street, so I went over to say hi. We started conversing. I asked him if he knew where there might be more homeless people sleeping. He said to me: "Yes sure, just follow me." So what did I do? I just followed him. He led me to decent looking business premises with a low wall. He said he slept over the wall, so I followed him.

Who are you following?

He began to make up a bed that was way bigger than he needed. I also noticed that he seemed to be on a stimulant. Something seemed up with him. So when his bed was ready, he grabbed my hand and started to pull me towards his bed. He said that I should come and lie with him...

I absolutely panicked. Basically this guy was in no uncertain terms inviting me to some intimate man on man action. No thank you very much! Luckily for me this guy lacked muscle from not eating well, so he wasn't very strong. I have never jumped two walls so quickly! In his horse voice he called after me to come back later...

I didn't.

Instead, I went back to my street and put down my sleeping bag, slightly traumatized, shaking, and tried to fall asleep next to my homeless friend Alfred.

Where are you looking for love?

Are you loving people?

Are you being loved?

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So Scared

Never let fear rule your decisions. Fear is a terrible advisor.

Port Elizabeth, is ranked as the 41st most dangerous city in the world. Johannesburg is at 50 and Cape Town, at 36. According to this study PE is the second most dangerous city in the world outside the Americas. I learned all this from my friend Xylon Van Eyck - it's good to have friends who bring encouragement!

Port Elizabeth from the Bay

My first night on the street, I was scared... maybe scared like I have never been before. I was lying on the sidewalk next to my friend Alfred, an homeless man who I have met twice before. I started thinking about murder, rape, torture... my mind was full of fear. People drove by and stopped to look at us - like zoo animals. People shouted at us.

Drunk men walked by and slowed down when they passed us. Every muscle in my body tensed up as I thought they would kick me in the back and rob me. Instead they just laughed and walked by.

I sat with my sleeping bag around me gazing at passing cars. People who drove past either ignored me or looked at me and shook their heads in disapproval of who I was. What I was doing in their city? I am not sure, but I felt less than human.

At 3a.m. fear got the better of me. I had seen an arrest, a private security company chase thieves around the corner, been invited to partake in intimate practises with a homeless man... I was shaking. Every noise - and on the street there are many - freaked me out. I had only slept for 2 hours. The homeless guy next to me was completely passed out. I wanted to stay longer, but I was loosing control over my mind at a rapid rate. Fear has a way of stopping us from thinking rationally. (Tweet This) Everything became worse than it was. The consequences in my fearful mind of staying any longer would be certain death.

When has fear ruled your decisions?

I got up and walked swiftly to my car which was parked a couple of blocks down. Out of breath I dived in my haven of safety. I felt at peace again. I wanted to go out again, but I couldn't. Today the thought of lying in the street so vulnerable makes me scared again.

Will I go out again?... I hope so. The plan is to go back on Friday and start making this into a weekly activity for a season. I need to face my fear.

Which fears do you need to conquer? Which fears do you need to face up to? (Tweet This)

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The People of the street

On a Sunday evening, early December, I attended one of the more fashionable churches in PE. It was nice, very nice, but really just nice. Everything worked. Except my heart. I sang songs which were beautiful. I heard a very good message, but after the service I felt completely empty and dry.

I was invited by really great people for a hangout after. I turned it down. Just three days after Nelson Mandela had died, I needed something else. I got in my car and started driving home. I saw a homeless man. I wanted to drive past, but I just couldn't. I went to the local grocery store and bought food to give to him, but instead of giving it through my window from the safety of my car I got out and went to sit with him on his cardboard box.

We chatted and he grew from homeless to human. His name is Alfred. Al-fred. He is a lovely older man who used to live inland, but could not find work so he lives outside a college where he guards cars for a living during the day. We became friends.

And so began my quest for freedom.. and my challenge to spend a night on the street with Alfred.

The streets whisper many stories. That Friday night I began walking the streets feeling at peace. I saw Prostitutes being picked up men that could have been my neighbour - it wasn't my neighbour in case you wondered. It seemed so normal. I saw drug dealers standing in small groups looking intimidating.

I found out that most Nigerians in Parliament street struggle to remember their own name. One of the dealers started laughing when I asked his name, then paused and replied "Kevin, - I am Kevin." We both laughed as it obviously wasn't. He seemed a nice enough guy. He had left Nigeria to flee the problems there. Now he was a 'business' man who "Could make all my dreams come true!"

So many problems on the street. It was painful to see all the hurting people seeking something more. I guess in most streets in every city around the world there is pain. It just isn't always as obvious as in this street.

Later, another massive Nigerian joined me on my walk. He introduced himself as Divine, or Michael, or whatever I wanted to call him. We walked the streets for some time. We chatted. Tough on the outside, but human underneath all the hardness. He just plays his role to make life work for him.

Which role do you play in life? Are you true to yourself?

Divine gave me the quote of the night: "I love God above anything else and my purpose in life is to serve him with all I have and to do my 'Business' to the best of my ability."

He is a Pimp drug dealer. It was so surreal.

These Nigerian drug dealers were very kind to me. 

I realize that they are people just like you and me. No better no worse. 

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For Freedom

Lately, life has been confusing.

I feel I need to find purpose, direction. 2014 came around quicker than I expected. 2013 finished before I had finished with it. Staring down the barrel of a new year caused me to reflect.

New Year resolutions needed to be made. I have resolved not to stick with the status quo. To live with intention and to Fight for Freedom. A freedom for me to express who I am, but more, a freedom for others. Freedom of poverty, oppression, inequality... I want to fight for the suppressed, the weak and the lost. All this while reconnecting with my heart.

Myself and Alfred

What moves your heart?

I have always had this nudging to go and sleep on the street with the homeless in the rough part of town. So I set a date and got ready. People might wonder why I posted it on FB?

I'll be honest: I wanted to chicken out at the last moment so having some FB accountability helped me get in the car and keep to my resolve.

That evening before I went out, it seemed that I had plenty of reasons to stay home.

1: I injured my back trying to show off how strong I am by lifting a trailer at work - conclusion not very strong. Sleeping on the concrete would not help my back.

2: I was scared. Surely this was a sign of the divine one that this was a bad idea.

3: It was windy and it was going to be a cold night. This is PE it's always windy!

What are your 'reasons' for not following your dreams?

May I add that I was petrified. This is a South Africa where we all live in fear. We hate it and we love it at the same time. It makes us feel special, because we can survive in this crazy and dangerous country!

My "home" for Friday nights

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