In the Durban suburb of Westville, KwaZulu-Natal, with its manicured gardens and clean streets, Thobile Zondi, 31, a homeless woman sticks out like a sore thumb.
However, having been here for years, she has almost become a feature in the area, even a landmark with which to give out directions, ‘after you pass the homeless woman, turn right’.
She stands ramrod straight, no matter the weather at the traffic lights (robots) just outside of Westville Mall, with a cup in hand, begging motorists and pedestrians alike for spare change.
Her story started way back in Ladysmith where she was raised by a single mother, with her father not being involved in her life.
“I grew up in a big family, but as time went on, a lot of people died, including my mother who passed when I was only eight-years-old,” she tells IOL with a slight quiver in her voice.
This tragic incident that occurred at this formative age would mark her for the rest of her life.
Her aunts took to working her like a slave while their own children did nothing, she claims. And living in a rural area, the chores were brutal. Every morning she was made to go down to the river to fetch water with a 25 litre bucket atop her head multiple times.
She says this was especially gruelling in winter as she only had rags for clothes and threadbare shoes, but she would make the trips on frost-covered ground.
This abuse and neglect became worse as Zondi grew.
“When I was 12, my aunt told me that she was fed up with having to pay for my school fees and that I should drop out and go look for a job. I told my principal this, and luckily, he took pity on me and allowed me to continue my education without a tuition fee.”
Having been made to feel unwanted in her own home, she got solace from friends when she got to high school. Seeing her tattered clothing and never having money for lunch, she says they introduced her to cannabis as it would “lesson her stress”.
She believes the die was cast from there. With her deep-set eyes glassy with tears, she appears to be deep in thought, perhaps drawing memory from a well that has long been sealed by time and trauma.
In no time, the group discovered and started using whoonga.
Dreaming of a better life, Zondi dropped out in Grade 11 and joined her friend who was coming to Durban and had told her that she had family in the city.
“I had no cent to my name. So, we decided to hitch-hike. We mostly rode trucks and some of the men demanded sex as payment,” she recalls.
The coastal city held no better luck for her. When they arrived, her friend revealed that she had no family in the area and had come to her boyfriend instead.
The man gave Zondi two days to find a place to stay. With no clue where to start, she found herself homeless on the third day.
Hungry, confused and stressed, she attempted to beg for money, but says she was met with disdain and she could not take people’s prying and judgemental eyes. On the first night on the streets, she was terrified for her safety and barely slept a wink.
The following day, she resolved to find a relatively safe place.
“I just started walking and having no idea where I was going. I walked until every bone in my body ached and my feet gave out. I found myself in Westville.”
Zondi saw that the suburb did not have as many homeless people, and there were some parks and bridges where she could shelter in. The years wore on and she acclimated to life on the streets.
She got money from begging and when it was not enough, she resorted to higher stakes. Zondi admits that she started to mug people at knife-point. She was sentenced to five months in prison for one of the crimes.
“I was not a good person. Sometimes I wonder what my mother would think of me. I live with guilt and shame. I am not even a person in the eyes of society anymore. Even a child can see that I am an animal,” she says as tears stream down her face.
She quickly wipes them with dirt-caked hands and attempts to blink them away. Zondi continues: “I am living a lie. Out there (she points at the robot) I say whatever I need to say to get sympathy from people so that they can give me money. I have told every lie under the sun to survive. I would like to think that anyone in my position would do the same.”
Steeped in this despair, Zondi still has an inkling of hope. She points to her drug use as deterring her from the life she wants.
“If I could get help to leave drugs, I would go to any rehab or centre at the drop of a hat. I lack resources, that’s all. I am still young. Me and other homeless people can improve our lives if the government steps in to help. Give us a chance.”
Zondi also dreams of getting her matric and going to study engineering as she had loved science while in high school.
IOL has embarked on a campaign called Elevate Her to highlight the plight of homeless women of South Africa. IOL is also collecting items for dignity packs to be distributed across the country. To get involved, email info@iol.co.za
xolile.mtembu@iol.co.za
IOL