8/19/2019 Andrew Otis Varsity Yank on My Stoep

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Opini

ANDREW OTIS

“BROTHER, sorry brother. Can you help me?”

“Two rand for milk and bread?”

 I look at him - the beggar with abright neon security vest, guardingcars - shake my head, and walkinto the 7-Eleven, looking for skimmilk, which doesn’t really existhere. There’s only whole and 2%. Damn it.

“I live on the streets. You and me,when we die, we all go to the same place,” he says.

I turn the corner back to myhome here in Cape Town, SouthAfrica. Another bergie comes upto me. “Hey brother, sorry brother.I just want to talk brother. Can youhelp me?” They all say the samething. You become inured to it.

Every day it’s the same thing.

It’s the same route home. It’s thesame bergies that follow you fortwenty feet begging. Sometimes,though, it’s a bit different.

As I’m walking into Shoprite –

!"#$#%& ( )(*+ ,* -. &/

looking for skim milk again – aCanadian comes up to me. Heasks, “Can you help me? Give me$20? Me and my three buddies

 just had our wallets and passports

stolen on a minibus taxi. We needto get to Stellenbosch to get tomy embassy.” He still has hiscellphone. So they stole everything

 but his cellphone? Why would theCanadian embassy be in the town

of Stellenbosch, over an hour awayfrom the city of Cape Town?

Bizarre things happen. Theft isrampant. My friend Dan had his

cellphone stolen on a minibus taxi.He was the last off, and the driverasked to borrow his phone. Danended up running down the streetwith his hand still on the phone asthe taxi drove away.

Or it’s the refugee. One day Iwas followed home twice for akilometre by the same man. Thefirst time I saw him he asked formoney for food. When I saw himagain he had a shopping bag full offood. I didn’t ask how he got the

 bread and milk. “I’m a good man.I’m a Christian man,” he says.“Can you help me? Let me tell youmy story. I’m from Zimbabwe.I need money to get an identity

 photo for work...”

There’s a drug here called tik.It’s like meth, but mixed withhousehold cleaners. I was on atrain to see the Jackass penguinsin Simonstown. There was a mantripping. He made a grab for my

 bag. Another man behind mekicked him down the train car,shouting in Afrikaans.

People see you, an American.They see dollar signs. Theywonder how to get the dollars outof ‘this one.’

My homestay mother relates thestory of how her daughter’s fiancé,Brett, was kidnapped with his thengirlfriend and driven around thecity by a group of black people andforced to withdraw the maximum

amount avIt was onl

 praying tthey let hi

I don’t more dangcountry isareas, andMurder iPoverty, here, if desperatio

There arrefugees, The Zimfor lowerThey’re nan organwhich woof refugeestudying aother orgaLeap, whtownships

I guess

But what  bread to thI volunteesituation w

I DREAMED OF AFRICA - South African beggars target foreign hearts.

   I  m  a  g  e  c  o  u  r   t  e  s  y  o   f  w  w  w .   f

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