Yesterday, I enlisted the help of three boys from Eluxolweni Shelter to help me shoot video for a project I'm hoping to piece together about Grahamstown and its inhabitants. 14-year-old Bramwell, 16-year-old Sinathemba and 16-year-old Samkelo accompanied me all day; they shot video, they carried the tripod, microphone and camera case, and they made sure none of it was taken by opportunistic, desperate people hoping to get some cash for drugs, or perhaps, to feed their families.
After the day of shooting, I told them I'd spend 35 rand on each of them and we could do whatever they wanted. They chose to go see "Spiderman." A good friend of mine from home, Heather Flay, gave me more than a hundred dollars from turning in pop cans she'd collected. Each weekend, I use some of that money to take the kids to eat, take them to the movies, or take them for an ice cream. It's a treat for them.
On our way to the theater, there was an older woman sitting in the shade of a tree, on a flattened cardboard box, begging for money. She sits there everyday. She must be in her 70s, and it doesn't look as though there is much life left. Her face is hollow, her body emaciated from years of not having enough. She sits in the same spot each day, looking up at people, relying on the kindness of strangers; of people like myself, of anyone who is passing by and might have a couple coins, or an apple or leftover slice of bread for her.
As the four of us were making our way to the theater, Bramwell stopped in front of this woman. Looking down at her and reaching into his pockets, his serious, somber look slowly morphed into a half-smile. I was about to pull him away because I really wasn't quite sure what he was doing, or planning on doing.
Before I could grab him and move along, he pulled from his pockets four or five coins that probably added up to no more than a rand. He dropped them into the little cup by her side, smiled again at her and walked toward me.
These couple coins came from a kid who hasn't been dealt a particularly good hand in life either. His family life isn't the best. He lives in a shelter where he's fed, and that,for him, is enough.
In the moments where we were passing by this woman who's probably passed hundreds of times per day, something clicked in Bramwell's mind. He must have recognized he didn't have much use for the coins, or perhaps, that she needed them more.
A few minutes later, he looked at me, and said "Jay-SEN! Did you see what I did?"
I certainly did.
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