Finding comfort in other's unhappiness

This weekend, I skipped my weekly night on the streets. At first I planned not to write this week. I thought if I skip a week people might think that I must have been too exhausted from sleeping on the streets so poor me...

Sometimes, I am afraid that people might perceive me as weak and uncommitted for not doing a night on the streets every week!

I have really learned a lot about honesty in the past couple of months. I try to live being as honest as possible.

Challenging at times when for example, somebody asks you what you think of their dress and you really don't like it. Or when somebody asks you what you think about them.... Usually an honest way of avoiding difficult questions is to say: "I don't want to tell you". In some situations that doesn't work.

This weekend, we went away with friends. I slept on a balcony with a view of a river mouth under the most beautiful star lit sky. From the bottom of my heart, this is much better than the streets. It was almost magical.

While I was lying down I found comfort.

You can find happiness in other people's unhappiness.(TWEET THIS)

Let me explain before you think I am some weird sadist. Just before we went to bed, I sat around a fire with two other men. We shared some deep conversations about life, work, family, opportunities, closed doors...

The really beautiful thing about our conversation was the honesty about some of our struggles and insecurities.

Later, as I watched the stars lying in my bed, I found comfort and happiness in knowing that I am not the only one struggling with insecurities, balancing family vs work, taking risks vs being 'wise' and finding some general direction in life.

Maybe we should all find an honest space with each other and drop the walls of the I-have-it-all-together act. We will comfort one another. Here is some good news. What ever you are going through. You are not alone. Many other people are going through the same thing.

Now share! And become more honest...

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Shoes Part 2: Barefoot

My feet left home for the streets wearing my old faithful sneakers and a comfy pair of socks. I returned home cold and bare foot.

In between, I met Jaco.

Jaco was an ex-Eastern Province under 18 rugby player. At a young age, he showed promise and captained his school rugby team.

In 2000, just before Jaco's final exams, his Father fell into a coma. After a week, Jaco and his mom were called in to make a tough decision. The doctor explained that there was little hope left and switching off the life-machine keeping his dad alive, was the right decision. At 18, Jaco's Dad died due to kidney failure. He had made the decision. He felt like his world had caved in.

Jaco still went ahead and wrote his final exams. Shortly afterwards, the family went on their annual holiday, to their holiday home. Jaco told me how sad he was, he missed his dad and during the holiday he started smoking marijuana to ease the painful memories of a lost dad.

A year later his mom passed away. This happened 3 weeks before he was due to leave to Stade de France Rugby club. For a second time, Jaco's world fell apart.

He got caught up in all kinds of drugs to numb the pain. He still qualified as a diesel mechanic, but his addictions stopped him from keeping down a stable job.

                                          Feet selfie...

Today, Jaco lives on the street. He is being haunted by the demon of Heroin. He knows that the stuff is killing him, but the addiction is too strong. He can't let go.

He wants to tell young people about the danger of drugs, but he knows that he needs to get clean.

While we hung out, I noticed that he struggled to walk. So I asked what was wrong. He showed me his feet. His toes were injured and bleeding. His shoes were way too small. In that moment I offered him my shoes and socks.

He was so grateful.

There is no exercise better for the heart than reaching down and lifting people up. John Holmes (Tweet This)

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Shoes Part 1: Those annoying car guards

Today I purchased myself two exciting new best friends.

I bought myself awesome running shoes. I promise to show a photo of these shoes in a years time so you can see if they have been used or they have in fact collected dust.

I faced a real conundrum in the shop... To buy or not to buy. They were not the most expensive running shoes, but also not the cheapest ones. They cost R1300 - about £80. That is a lot of money for a pair of shoes. I felt bad spending this kind of money on shoes, but my goal this year has moved from getting fit, and doing some kick boxing to getting freaking ridiculous fit and running a marathon before the end of the year. 

I felt I needed these shoes...

I need to protect my knees...

They look cool...

Do I need more reasons?

It is just a pair of shoes.

Last night I went back to the streets. I ended up hanging with the car guards on our main restaurant street.

I asked them the one question I should not have asked them:

"How much do you earn a day?"

Why did I ask it? I don't know. I am just curious. I ask people questions. I should have known that I didn't really want to know the answer.

The answer:

On a good day a car guard makes between R80 and R100 (£4.50 - £5.20), but on a bad day it can be less than R50 (£2.70)

Oh in that moment, how I hated my fancy ponsy ridiculous looking green shoes. I spent more than 3 weeks of this guys salary on those running shoes?!?!? Have I gone mad? What is wrong with me...

I don't know the answers in terms of right and wrong. I am judging nobody. If you just bought a Porche. May you enjoy it to the fullest...

This one is between you and God, or you and yourself...

Car guards often annoy me as they come and ask money while sitting around. But I will not moan anymore. They are people with families who are trying to make their lives work. I have always been pretty generous, but I will become more generous.

I want to. Jesus would have been.

Our lives are not defined by the things we possess. Our lives are defined by the things we pursue. (Tweet This) Joshua Becker - http://www.becomingminimalist.com/

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Gangsta

So there I was, begging at a petrol station with one of my junkie friends, Gareth. A pleasant guy. We get along pretty well. He was robbed 2 weeks ago. He got punched in the eye. It still hasn't recovered.

While we were hanging out, 2 other guys walked up to us and had a long chat with Gareth. Neil, the leader of the two, came up to me and asked if I had a knife he could borrow.

In my naivety I asked him what he needed it for. He told me: I need to f****g defend myself and I might use it to make some money. Now do you have a Remington knife? I politely said "NO!"

He proceeded whip out a flick knife with a 15cm blade and showed it to me.

I was pretty scared.

Honestly I was flipping big time scared. There I was sitting being 'homeless' with two stoned gangsta's who were shifty. And clearly keen to pick a fight with someone.

Neil had been released from prison a couple of days before. He had upset some people before he went in. He was worried about a revenge attack.

This guy was making me the perfect target for a local newspaper headline stating: 

Belgian dies in crossfire between gang members.

These guys see themselves as big time gangsta's. They roam the streets looking for soft targets. When they find a target, they rob them violently and sell whatever they can to buy drugs. The night before, these Gangstas told me they had stabbed a Nigerian 15 times to get drugs from him.

Both these guys are nuts... Well that is my analysis. But you know what stood out more than their craziness and violence? Their fear. 

Here are some self confessed criminals with big outer attitudes, but deep down they are scared and fearful of everything, and everyone.

Fear runs deep. Only Love can overcome Fear. (Tweet This)

While I was genuinely scared of them and on high alert, ready to run away as fast as possible. I still felt sorry for them. This is not the life that anyone dreams of.

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Raining questions

Spending time on the street sucks! I enjoy meeting new people, but it is never easy. Firstly, I feel scared being on the streets. I have been going on the streets for some time. I am still scared.

Secondly, everything is intensified when the heavens open and it starts raining.

We live in Africa. God's home continent. You might think that in Africa it never gets cold and miserable. Well think again. It can get cold, windy and rainy. And its just March...Winter is still to come.

I sat down with two new guys I met. Robert and Daniel. Robert is a self confessed super druggie. In his words: I use everything and anything all the time at the same time. He is a gentle giant. I really got on well with him. Daniel is a huge African guy who is sick and seems to be fading away at a rapid rate.

As I sat down with them on the sidewalk, the rain began to pour. We were sheltered, but the wind did a good job of blowing the rain all over us anyway. It was cold. The pavement we were sitting on was cold. I was shivering. When you get wet on the streets you are in real trouble. There is no place to get dry. Chances are, you might not have a spare set of clothes to change into. Being wet brings your body temperature down from cold to freezing.

It was really eye opening for me.

If you live in a cold country consider giving an extra blanket to the homeless.

At one point Robert asked: Is this what I get from this God that I believe in and worship?

I didn't know what to say... I still don't.

After a night on the streets I have more questions than answers.

What are your questions about life?

It's ok to ask and to have unanswered questions in your life. (Tweet This)

Ask questions. Search. Seek. Dig deep. Get some answers. 

Somewhere along the way try to find peace in the paradoxes and conundrums of life.

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Meeting a princess

On Saturday night, whilst walking, my eyes caught a middle aged lady, dressed weirdly, sitting on a bench. I walked over to her and introduced myself. These are some extracts from our completely surreal conversation.

Me: Hi how are? My name is Michiel. Can come and sit down and chat a bit with you?

Her: Yes, Please. My name is Annique. I saved 9 million people in the war.

Me: I beg your pardon... Say that again.

Her: Yeah, well I saved 9 million people in the war. I carried them in my arms. All of them.

Me: At the same time?

Her: Well obviously not? I also trained 8000 cops in New York. That was a lot of work. I like doing training with the cops. I also developed weapons.

Me: Oh, for real...

Her: Yeah I developed new weapons. Men from the army and the police wanted to use them, but I locked them in places. Places I need to unlock... You know what?

Me: No - I seriously have no idea.

Her: I have locked weapons in places in 7 different countries. I lived in those countries. I will tell you my secret. My dad was the king of Spain, Portugal and Italy. My mom was the queen of Germany. We didn't share that with anyone as we wanted to stay low key. The saddest day of my life was when the both died...

Me: I am so sad to hear that. How was your childhood?

Her: I never was a child. When I was one month old I operated on my mom. She needed a brain op and I did it. I wrote a lot of books. Medical, story and weapon ones. Yesterday somebody ripped 480 of my books apart.

Me: Wow

Her: One of the army guys who tried to steal the weapons I designed, came earlier today to apologize. I never was a child. 15 Christian Nuns came from Pretoria and stole most of my things.

Me: Nuns are well into crime...?

Her: They are. It is so sad. They could not open the places I closed so it will be ok. My ex boyfriend stole more things from me, but I found them going through 500 flats and houses.

Me: If you could give a group of people one piece of advice what would it be?

Her: You can achieve what you want to achieve. Don't have a low self esteem. (Tweet This)

We talked for over an hour. It was the most craziest conversation I have ever had, but quite refreshing. She was so excited that someone was willing to listen to her.

Who do you need to make time for?

How often do you meet a princess who lives on the streets? I am so gutted that Annique has to live on the street. She clearly belongs in a home to receive appropriate care, but that is not available for her. I am.

Who is Annique in your life? 

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The police - Your friend

Until the age of 21, I lived in Belgium. A beautiful first world country. In Belgium, the police is seen as a friend. Not the kind of friend you would share a joke with, but the friend you can go to when you are in trouble. When I spend time on the streets of South Africa, I find safety and security seeing the police drive by. My homeless friends don't agree with my view.

I have heard stories from my 5 homeless friends about the South African police. 

Nxokwe, Asana, Sipho, Oususwe and Steve.

Sipho told me how he and Steve were picked up by the police. The police shoved them into the back of the van and drove them to the outskirts of Port Elizabeth. There they were dropped off, on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere. The police told them to stay away.

On another occasion, one of the guys got picked up by the police. In the back of the police vehicle sitting next to him, was a Nigerian drug dealer. The dealer told the police to drive past an ATM. He withdrew R2000 and gave it to the police who promptly released him. The homeless man was taken to the police station and spent the night in jail.

Hearing their stories made me see with different eyes. 

One night as I chatted to some local 'business' men, I saw a police van pull up across the road. Part of me wanted to get closer and find out what was happening. I wanted to take some photo's and hear the conversations taking place. There were plenty locals chatting at the van window and there seemed to be numerous exchanges taking place.

My friends have told me countless other stories of the police abusing their power at the hands of the homeless.

It frustrates me that the poor and the weak get treated badly. Surely they already have a rough enough life. We don't need to add to their suffering.

Which injustices make you angry? 

What are you doing about it?

Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. (Tweet This)  Martin Luther King 

I know these are stories from nobodies. I don't know if they are true, but I doubt my friends would lie about them. I have no doubt that there are plenty of good police officers in South Africa fighting for justice and helping the oppressed.

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