The Struggle of Homelessness and Race in South Africa

Caught in the Middle with Nowhere to Go: The Struggle of Homelessness and Race in South Africa

By Rabia Turnbull, Youth Fellow, IYTT

Despite the flourishing democracy in South Africa, the lingering remnants of apartheid persists, deeply entrenched within our society and economy, eroding the foundations of our hard-earned democratic ideals.

The legacy thereof, despite its formal dismantling, continues to cast a shadow over South Africa, with its effects reverberating through various facets of society. Within the non-white communities, widening social disparities persist, exacerbated by economic exclusion, limited access to education, and historical land dispossession. These factors fuel a troubling rise in impoverishment, serving as a stark reminder of the challenges facing our democracy and the new found responsibilities of our recently elected government.

Among the myriad challenges we face, none looms larger than the enduring racial and socioeconomic disparities, exemplified by the alarming challenge of homelessness. In 2022, official records documented 55,719 individuals as homeless, with a staggering 44,512 lacking even the most basic shelter, which means that almost 1 % of our population is homeless (source: Census 2022 p. 62). These statistics, alarmingly high and rising, still likely under-represent the true scale of the issue, failing to account for those who go unreported and undocumented.

For the homeless, survival becomes the paramount objective, yet they remain a marginalized and stigmatized segment of our society, often judged and overlooked.

Additionally, the spectra of race continues to haunt South Africa, perpetuating deep-seated divisions and a disconcerting dearth of empathy and understanding. Centuries of colonialism and decades of apartheid have woven race and racial stratification into the fabric of our society, segregating individuals into rigid categories of privilege and disadvantage.

‘Colored people’, as a distinct creolised group of mixed-race heritage, occupy a particularly complex position within this framework (Creolised refers to ethnic, cultural and linguistic convergence of several groups and races on a colonial territory). In South Africa’s instance the convergence of Asians, indigenous Africans, and Europeans because of colonialism. Historically viewed as a challenge to the rigid racial hierarchy, the “crime” of crossing racial lines as coloreds, we embody the possibility that Whites, Blacks, Asians, and all colors and races under the sun can love, live and coexist —a notion antithetical to the supremacist colonial logic.

Yet, far from fostering unity, this defiance of racial boundaries has led to ostracisation and marginalization. Neither fully accepted nor embraced by any racial group, as coloreds we find ourselves trapped in a liminal space of identity, perpetually deemed “not enough”.

The legacy of apartheid, with its systemic impoverishment and social stratification, continues to cast a harrowing shadow over our nation, aggravating existing racial tensions and leaving countless voiceless and disenfranchised not to mention facilitating hate and competition among people of color in particular.

However disheartening the current state of affairs may be, it is imperative that we engage with a diverse range of perspectives and experiences, amplifying the voices of those who have long been silenced. Only by listening to one another and working collaboratively to address the root causes of inequality can we hope to build a more just and equitable society.

In pursuit of this goal, I embarked on an interview with a homeless man in Simon’s Town, South Africa. To safeguard his anonymity, he will be referred to as “Alan” for the purposes of this interview.

Through this piece, my hope is to touch hearts and inspire kindness toward those facing the intersecting challenges of race, marginalization, addiction, and homelessness. May it awaken empathy and open minds to the struggles of others, fostering a spirit of compassion and understanding in our communities.

Photo by the homeless “Alan”

Interviewing Alan was a profound experience that left an indelible mark on my heart. His story is one of resilience, perseverance, and the enduring human spirit amidst unimaginable adversity.

Alan’s journey is emblematic of the struggles faced by many marginalized individuals in South Africa, particularly those from the colored community. Growing up in the shadow of apartheid, he like many colored, faced a tumultuous upbringing marked by hardship, dispossession, familial strife, violence and societal oppression.

From the onset of this interview, it became evident that Alan’s story is not just a topic of homelessness but one profoundly intertwined with matters of race, justice and inclusivity – all bitter consequences of our countries’ history.

His early life began with an alcoholic, absent father, and a mother in dire straits, grappling to raise four children on her own. This early exposure to impoverishment and hardship brought with it unmet basic needs for survival, creating an environment of constant struggle and instability exemplified by his early days of school where he was expelled at a young age, grade 7 more or less after a harrowing incident where he stabbed a classmate and grappled with the consequences of his actions.

Why did you stab your friend and how did this affect your life?

“My life was tough, to begin with, I already struggled and had it hard. You need to understand, that we had nothing. My mom was alone in raising four kids, my dad was an alcoholic, never really there, and we struggled so much. I went to school hungry, barely able to concentrate. I had one thing, one thing that was mine a fishing rod. Anyway, we ended up fighting over it my friend and I and I ended up stabbing him. I understand what I did was wrong and feel deep regret, at the same time I was young and broken and did not receive a second chance. This pushed my life for the worse in terms of education, and opportunities and also contributed to my addiction. When I was expelled, I had to see a social worker and work things out but was not allowed to return to school. Now you also need to understand, that although I was raised by predominantly by a single mother, addiction runs in the family, notably my father, so things were tough and at some stages violent. What I did as a child, the stabbing was as a result of the situation I was in, including the fear of losing what little I had. We had nothing. This fishing rod was the only thing I had for myself; I did not want to lose what little I had. I’m not excusing what I did, but it was born out of an absence of resources”.

This undoubtedly set a precedence for his life. Unable to complete his education, he sought to educate himself through other means learning various jobs including safety and risk management. Without official records and certificates however a difficult task, even more so, difficult to prove.

“Things were bad when I started on drugs. I even went to prison for weed, for a month. Now I have a criminal record which makes things even harder. And now weed is legal here. Imagine”.

When were you in prison? What happened? How was that experience?

“Maybe 2016? 2017? I can’t really remember. I was in prison for a month, and it was awful. It was scary. I had a little bit of weed and was put in prison with serial killers, gangsters, and hardened criminals. I was terrified the entire time. I thought I was going to die. The food was awful, the hygiene and conditions we were in. The number of lice and bed bugs, I get itchy just thinking of it. We were treated like animals. Actually, no I think animals are treated and fed better. I just kept my head down and tried to not cause trouble and behave as well as possible so I could get out alive. And then I had no one when I was released. I was on my own. From the horrible conditions in prison to the horrible conditions of the streets”.

His battle with mental illness has made his life considerably more challenging. Diagnosed with schizophrenia more or less 16 years ago, Alan navigates his mental illness and that all alone. While he does receive treatment and the respective medications he requires, he lacks social and familial support but most importantly counseling and psychological support.

“I did receive some counseling in the beginning and that helped. It was good. The doctor was nice, and I felt he cared. But you see where we stay the hospitals are minimal and overcrowded, overworked. There’s not enough. And these are hospitals for colored and black people, for poor people. I mean you know what it’s like in those hospitals for people like you and me. They don’t have the means to treat us nor are we a priority. There was nice doctor but then he retired now no one can replace him, no one who cares for us. So, we are all left alone again in our struggles. Lots of these other guys on the street are schizophrenic as well. I at least take my tablets, but you see them? They don’t and they don’t have anyone either”.

His descent into addiction made things considerably worse, a harrowing battle with what is colloquially referred to as “TIK” in South Africa, a highly addictive and dangerous crystal methamphetamine, which brought him to the brink of death and overdose. He battled this addiction for years.

But in the depths of despair, he found solace in faith and embarked on a journey of recovery. Three and a half years sober, Alan stands as a testament to the power of redemption and the resilience found within us all.

Yet, despite his newfound sobriety, Alan continues to confront insurmountable challenges. Homeless and afflicted by schizophrenia, he navigates a world fraught with prejudice and discrimination as people go out of their way to avoid him on the street.

Beyond this, the squatter camps deep in the Table Mountains, once a temporary refuge, have become newfound arenas of violence and hostility, where the color of his skin marks him as a target for resentment and aggression. Alan explains beliefs of preferential treatment towards him for being mixed have effectively put a target on his back, fleeing mob violence and threats of murder.

“I have witnessed so many be violently killed, tortured, and set on fire. Entire groups circling one. Even the children hate us. I tried to rescue one guy once, but I was too late. I was intimidated and threatened so much. One night I heard them coming and just ran, I ran and never looked back. I couldn’t even take my things.  I am still scared because of how violent those murders were. It haunts me“.

In the face of such adversity, Alan’s unwavering kindness and optimism however shine through.

Despite the bitter hand fate has dealt him, he radiates gratitude for even the simplest of gestures, cherishing each interaction as a beacon of human connection.

Unfortunately given his situation, many do not treat him the same, whether strangers in the street or those closest to him. Most heart-breathtakingly of all, are his attempts to reach his daughter whom he found out about 10 years after her birth.

“I was dating a lady; we broke up and she fell pregnant. She was however also seeing someone else and assumed the child was his. Through a paternity test, however, I found out about my daughter 10 years later. I immediately dropped everything to see her and meet her, but it was tough, especially with my schizophrenia and drug addiction. I missed so much of her life, but this was not my choice. She needed support and I tried my best, but she doesn’t call me dad, she doesn’t communicate with me. She lives in France, and I cannot contact her. It breaks my heart. All I want is a second chance, an opportunity”.

A second chance and opportunity were the central themes of our conversation delving into the heart of opportunities and the opportunity our newly founded democracy posed probing the realities of equality and empowerment in contemporary post-apartheid South Africa. Alan’s words resonate with a poignant truth, exposing the gaping chasm between democratic ideals and lived experiences. In a society rife with corruption and inequality, he laments the absence of opportunities for those deemed unworthy by virtue of their race and circumstance.

His plea for recognition, for a chance to prove himself, reverberates with a universal longing for dignity and agency. Denied a voice in a system that fails to acknowledge his humanity, Alan embodies the struggle for inclusion and justice that defines our collective quest for a more equitable society.

Photo by the homeless “Alan”

As a fellow of the International Youth Think Tank we aspire to provide especially dis-empowered and marginalized people a voice and help overcome challenges within our society that inhibit civic participation and democracy.

I thus asked Alan a series of questions, tailored to the South African context:

• Have you thought about democracy?

“No. It’s not my primary concern. Right now, my primary concern is surviving”.

• What are the first three words that come to mind when you think about democracy?

“Fairness, Equality, the government”.

• Taking these words into consideration do you see this represented in our country?

“No- there are so many ‘fatcats’ just pocketing the money, and continued inequality, discrimination, and racism. There is no empowerment especially for colored people. We suffered then under apartheid and we suffer now in our democracy”.

• Do you feel free when choosing your life’s path?

“Somewhat yes. I mean, it’s up to me to choose my own life’s path right, I have the capability to make decisions for myself about what I do tomorrow and how so in that sense yes“.

• Do you feel you have any power as a citizen?

“No. I don’t have a voice. I don’t have influence, the system and society doesn’t care for my opinion, and my thoughts even though I am a part of this society regardless of my situation, I am not considered worthy enough due to my skin and situation”.

• Why?

“Because we do not have any opportunities and we are not given the opportunity to show our skills and talents. Even with my qualifications and even if I am suited for the job, I won’t get the opportunity to show it. I’m not given a chance. There is so much unfairness and inequality. I want to work. I am skilled and I can learn. I am not stupid. I am smart and I have so much to show, and I want to provide for myself. All I need is a chance. And I say this for my personal life and for my life as a citizen, as a human being. We deserve dignity“.

• What would you need to feel more powerful?

“More opportunities in terms of employment, government support, and education. Due to racism, I face constant challenges and threats in the squatter camps because I am colored and not black. I have been intimidated, threatened, and a victim of mob attacks due to a belief that I as a mixed person receive preferential treatment whereas I do not. Contrary in fact. I am not black enough, not Indian enough not white enough, simply not enough. And these types of attacks and violence, they are not shown in the media. No one cares what happens to us, the violence and hate we face. It’s disheartening”

Do you feel confident?.

“Yes, I have always felt confident I used to be called vain before actually (he laughs). I know I am worthy despite what the world tells me. And they tell me a lot I am not enough, I am not good enough, but I know I am. I just wish I could show it“.

• Do you feel more free post-apartheid?

“For sure. But not enough. I mean yes, I have more freedoms in terms of segregation, like I can go to white people beaches and use the same transport, but there’s a lack of opportunity, there’s so much poverty still and lack of employment and education. There hasn’t been sufficient empowerment, especially for us. And then socially also, so much still remains from those days”.

• Do you feel that you have a voice that is heard?

“No”.

• Why?

“It falls on deaf ears. Because the people in charge, they don’t care about my opinion. They don’t care because of my colour and my situation. First, I’m not white enough now I’m not black enough. In apartheid and post-apartheid, I am not considered enough. But I am!“

• What are your hopes for the future?

“I hope for a better life, a stable income, a roof over my head, and sufficient food. Now that I am off drugs I also have an appetite again! I am hungry. I have a little belly and that makes me happy. I don’t need much, I just want to be able to live in safety, in warmth, and with basic amenities. Most importantly, I hope to have my beautiful daughter in my life. Every day I think of her“.

• What do you think you can do to change this?

“Prove myself to people, that I am capable of doing what I say I can do. I am a hard worker, and I don’t give up, I am persistent and resilient, and I won’t give up easily, despite what life throws at me. I get up every day and try to find work. I am selling these heart stickers with the hopes of saving enough money so I can find a place to board. It’s not safe and there’s so much drug abuse, it’s triggering for me. I want to get away from that. I’m also 52 now, I can’t be living on the streets“.

• What could society and the government do?

“Try and accommodate to people who are trying to better themselves through low-income housing, government social support, in terms of housing, access to resources food.  And for people to be more open to giving second chances. Also just socially, yes, I’m homeless but don’t treat me like rubbish. I am a human still am I not?”

• If you could change one thing in South Africa. What would you change?

“The government”.

• If you could change one thing in your life. What would change and how?

“The past. If I had a chance to go back, I would be a better person, especially to the people I have harmed and hurt throughout my addiction. I have sought forgiveness but I still carry the heaviness of the things I have done and remorse for the pain I have caused. People forgive but don’t forget, and it weighs heavily on my heart”.

As our conversation drew to a close, I was struck by the depth of Alan’s resilience and the magnitude of his hope. In his eyes, I see a reflection of the beauty that persists amidst the ugliness of the world—a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there exists a glimmer of light, and the option to reconcile.

Alan’s story is not merely a narrative of hardship and despair; it is a testament to the transformative power of compassion and connection. In bearing witness to his struggles and aspirations, I am reminded of the profound impact that empathy and solidarity can have in bridging the gaping divides that threaten to tear our society apart. The power of empathy and solidarity stands far stronger than the divides that separate us and can serve instead, as the thread that unifies us.

In Alan, I found not only a subject for inquiry but a friend—a beacon of hope whose resilience and kindness inspire me to strive for a better, more compassionate world. As we bid farewell, the only request Alan shares is that I stay in touch, emphasizing he needs someone to believe in him and I do.

“Please stay in touch, I need support and it does not purely have to be financial but kind words and words of encouragement being treated like a human being it does me the world of good. I need someone to believe in me”.

I make a solemn promise to stay in touch, to offer whatever support and encouragement I can muster in his ongoing journey toward dignity and empowerment.

For Alan, and countless others like him, the fight for democracy is not merely a concrete political struggle; it is a deeply personal quest for recognition, justice, and the opportunity to reclaim humanity in a world that too often seeks to deny it.

As citizens of a democratic society, it is our collective responsibility to heed their voices just as much as we heed those of different colors of those of different classes. To amplify their stories, and to work tirelessly toward a future where every individual, regardless of race or circumstance, is afforded the dignity and respect they so rightfully deserve.

This is not the end of Alan’s story. Despite so much hardship, discrimination, and pain, his determination, positivity, kindness, and spirit for life are the personification of Mzansi (Mzansi is the Xhosa name for South Africa).

In celebration of 30 years of democracy in South Africa, on 25-29 August 2024, the IYTT ran a Nobel Symposium and Youth conference dedicated to empowering the next generation of leaders, who will hopefully rise and challenge the status quo and work towards a South Africa our parents and grandparents dreamed of 1994, – one where all of us can prosper regardless of race.

Rabia Turnbull, Youth Fellow, IYTT

Photo by the homeless “Alan”