It’s a way to escape from this existence ‘I once saw a guy get a whole R20 note from a motorist!’
SBUSISO Ntombela may have grown up in a mud house with a leaking roof in rural Empangeni, but it was home and a far cry from the shop front in Overport where he sleeps now.
“We didn’t have much, even for a rural family. My mother used to gather and sell firewood to put food on the table for me and my mentally ill brother.”
Last year, when he was 21, he came to Durban, with a waterproofing company that he worked for. He was sure that was the start of a financially stable life ,which would allow him to fulfil his role of being the breadwinner for his family.
“I lived in a shack in Kennedy Road with a guy from back home; we shared the R350 rent each month and I sent money home.”
He stayed on when the waterproofing contract ended, thinking he had a better chance of finding a job in the city than back home.
“I spent my first Christmas ever away from home. We would usually slaughter a chicken for Christmas but last year, I had tinned fish for Christmas lunch.”
When his room mate returned after December break, it was three months since Ntombela has last paid rent or contributed towards groceries.
Ntombela had been unsuccessful going door to door in neighbouring suburbs looking for gardening work: “We had already talked about the fact that I would have to move out so one day I was walking around not wanting to be in the house as things had turned sour, I saw a guy being handed a whole R20 note by a driver on the street.”
When things came to a head with his room mate, Ntombela packed his clothing, which fitted into a single plastic bag, and headed for the same street corner.
He still wears the same pair of navy pants that he arrived in Durban with. “My best pair,” he calls them.
On the streets for a few months now, he is too afraid to even send word home.
“What will I tell my mother? When I left she gave me her blessings and I thought I would return in my own car, with the boot full of groceries and would eventually build her a brick house. How could I face her like this?” he says pointing at his dirty toes in worn flip flops with a glittery strap – a gift from a passing motorist.
“We were poor but she always made sure we were clean, neat and tidy.
“My worst fear is that by the time I get myself together my mother will have died and I won’t know. Even if I somehow found out I probably wouldn’t be able to afford to go bury her? It would be my responsibility as the oldest.”
What Ntombela wants the most is a source of income that is stable enough for him to be able to save for a trip home.
“But I wouldn’t buy a ticket if I had nothing to show for my time in the city, I don’t want to disappoint my mother,” says Ntombela
“That’s why I’m so excited about this Paper Money project. I will do my best to make it work so I can save enough to go home with groceries and come back and continue with something I know she would be proud of me doing,” he says hopefully.