Shimane, 56 - Warehouse Assistant

“I grew up in the village. There in Limpopo. My father died when I was six. My mother tried to raise us. She was trying her best, but we were seven children. She had no job. She cleaned people’s houses and washed clothes to feed us. When I was just 14, my mother also passed and I was forced to leave school. I wanted to finish, but I had no choice.

My older sister, she worked as a domestic worker in Johannesburg. I was in my early twenties when I went to join her. She supported me until I found work. I took any job I could find — a delivery driver’s assistant, working at a panel beater, machine operator in a factory. I worked for 26 years at this factory. It was a very nice job, until my boss was too old and closed the factory.

My sister passed away. I was left alone and had nowhere to stay. I had to move to a skwatta camp. It was a hard time. You work all your life, and then you have nothing. I had no more support here. I wanted to give up. But what must a man do? I carry on

I found a casual job at a warehouse — just a few days a week — but things began to slowly get better. I now live closer to work and I own a stand in the township, which means no rent. I live there with my son, and my wife is in the village. Life in the township is difficult. People live on top of each other. There’s too much of them. These people, they are just drinking, having drugs, doing crime. I’ve been robbed many times. They take my TV, my cups, my pots, my food.

If I have my TV, I am good. My TV is my treasure. Watching football is the only time I feel happy. I don’t have friends — I like it this way. I am a man alone. But I wake up lonely and sometimes cry. But when there’s football, I forget these things, my problems. It is peace. It makes me happy, and I like it this way.

I wake up every day at 5 a.m. and catch a taxi to work, not because it’s far, but because my shoes are so old and broken down it hurts to walk. I’m proud of my job. If work starts at 8, I’ll be there by 07:15. When it’s payday, I still come to work for the next day. Other people, they just don’t come anymore because now they have money. Not me. I will always be there. It’s very difficult to get a job, so I will make sure to do things properly.

I have a very old car on my property, back in the village. I’ve had it for 12 years — it just needs four shocks and two tyres. If I can sell it, I will have money to buy a small bakkie, maybe a Nissan CHAMP. With this bakkie, I will drive to Louis Trichardt, buy bananas and oranges, some other fruits, and sell them in my village. There’s no fruit there. I will have chickens too. The people will buy, and life will be happy and good to me. Oh, and I will drive it to Johannesburg every month to buy things cheap and sell them in the village. This is my dream.

I feel proud of my house back home. It has 6 rooms. God blessed me this time. In two years, I want to go back to that life. It’s a simple life. You know, it’s a rural place. Not the city. I just need four shocks and two tyres. Then, if the engine is good, I will sell it, I hope. I trust God with this, but He is taking His time. Maybe He will bless me when I am very old.

Life is better back home. There, I help the people, even if I have little. I’ve been struggling always, so I must help if I can. Maybe I give R10 to the small boy who is hungry. He can get some bread. I can give just one cup of sugar to my neighbour. That is this thing of Ubuntu. It’s being a friendly man. Only God sees what you do. Maybe one day He will bless me. If you don’t help, He can punish you. My neighbour has eight children. They are always struggling. They don’t get government grants because none have ID’s. Every month, I will buy them 12kg of mielie meal. I don’t ask questions. I just help. How can I not help these people who have nothing? If you have money in the pocket, you must give some to help them.

I don’t regret anything in my life — not the loneliness, not the struggle. If I could go back, I will learn mechanical engineering. I want to make things with my hands. But no regrets. I still like helping others. I’ve struggled. I know what it feels like. But for me, now, it’s just God and Church. That’s what helps me and gives me happiness. God is taking His time, but I believe He will give me this miracle in my life. I know nothing, but God knows everything. He knows I want the four shocks and two tyres.”