I stood, transfixed on the surreal scene, a handful of people, watching as they slowly lowered the casket into the muddy grave.

“From dust to dust…”, my step faltered, tripping over the wooden slates at the cold grave. In silence I mourned, for his faith was sealed, long before this day!

Only a few days ago, sleeping next to him, our bodies cold, our fingers numb, clinging to an empty bottle…our only warmth on that cold winter’s night.

“Jou ma se…” I exclaimed as I strangled a cat sized rat off my ear! Bloody hands wiped my face, bright lights blinded me as yet another car drove pass, flooding the curb side where we slept.

I reached under his soaked blanket, pried the bottle from his frozen hands, struggled with the top and brought it to my lips. Two drops was all I got. Angry, I threw it to the ground! Turned my back on him, “voetstjek jou gemors, jy los my vokol wyn!”.

The next morning, a warmth between my legs woke me up, “hel, ek het my weer nat gepis!”. Slowly, leaving him to sleep, I walked to the street corner, morning duty called…

Standing on my crutches, my dirty hands outstretched, “please sir, all we need is food”, he looked the other way, and sped off the minute the light turned green.

The rain, like icicles on my face, I stood drenched to the bone, begging for food, but no one gave. That night I again, crawled in next to his cold body…hunger eating away at my mind. I’m sure I saw him get up, limping into the darkness…I heard him mutter, “please sir, can I have some more…”

Caught in the light, a truck hooting, brakes screeching, “please sir, can I have some more…”

I thought it a dream, until I awoke to sirens and medics. A cordoned off road as the remainder of his body were being scraped from the gutters of the sidewalk. Our home since 2010!

Now, standing here, an emptiness strangling me. He’s gone. My only friend, my only family. Tonight, I go home to an empty pavement and an extra blanket…soon my time will come.

I’m 48 years old, I’m homeless and hungry. I’ve not been on my ARV’s since I lost my shack, for a third time in a township fire…a month after my only child took a stray bullet to the chest.

People walk past me every day, they don’t see me…

On the streets  I’ve been raped, beaten and robbed. I am the “nuisance” bringing property values down…While the drug dealers are welcomed into their homes with a grin on their faces… “Please sir, can I have some more…”

“Please Sir, Can I Have Some More?”,  is written as part of a tandem blog challenge. Three Bloggers, one topic…Follow the below links to read my fellow Bloggers interpretation of this topic below.

Celeste: Surviving Jonkersville

Shelley: Thedealis

You can help stop the cycle…give responsibly, support local reputable NPO’s in your community who offer services to street children and homeless people. On the street, everything has a monetary value, always remember this. Contact the City of Cape Town’s dedicated social development call centre on 0800 872 201 should you know of a homeless person who needs/wants assistance or refer them to a relevant NPO. Also note that only a SAPS/Metro Police Officer/Social Worker may remove a child at risk, with care, from the streets.