Streetwise, 2007

We left stunned and silent, each buried in thought. I found myself wondering whether what we had done might change the life of even one of those boys sufficiently to stop him ending his days as we had just witnessed. I prayed that it would.

In Summer 2004, when Father Peter Clucas visited ‘Streetwise’, a project for homeless boys outside Durban where volunteers from the Oblate Youth Service (OYS) were working, he couldn’t help but notice the awful conditions — no proper lighting, sewerage system, or bathing and shower facilities.

On his return, he recruited Padraig McIntyre, a member of the OYS who works for his father’s construction company, to go on a fact-finding mission, to determine what, if anything, could be done to help.

When Padraig returned to Ireland, he was like a man possessed. He immediately set about recruiting local tradesmen, and launched a massive fundraising effort in Birr. The plan was to fly out to South Africa in November 2005 to completely renovate the shelter’s shower block, re-tile the kitchen area, and provide lighting throughout the building. We would have two weeks to complete this daunting task.

Life for many children in South Africa’s vast townships is, to say the least, bleak. Homes are made of whatever they can get their hands on, from sheets of corrugated iron to packing cases and odds and ends of timber. There is no such thing as running water or plumbing, and large families live together in houses the size of a small bedroom. HIV/Aids is a blight on these communities.

It is hardly surprising then, that so many children find their way onto the streets. From talking to the boys in Streetwise, it became clear that neglect, abuse and betrayal had been part of their short lives. Some had been kicked out because their families could no longer afford to feed them. Some ran away to escape abuse at the hands of frustrated parents. Some had been abducted, sexually abused, and abandoned, with no idea of where they were or how to get home.

For many though, escape to the streets was not an escape. Boys as young as 8 or 9 living on the streets were unable to fend for themselves and were regularly sexually abused. Most were beaten daily; almost all sniffed glue to mask constant hunger pains. 

Streetwise outreach workers spend their days on the streets, talking to the boys, feeding them, trying to protect them from predators, and encouraging them to come to a rehabilitation centre. The Centre is located in Marianhill, outside Durban, in a building that was formerly a mill, built around 1900. It is home to 30-40 boys, ranging in age from 10 to 15. Where circumstances at home are reasonable, social workers try to reunite boys with their families.

Streetwise guarantees the boys hot food, education and a bed at night. Perhaps more importantly, they enjoy something like family life with lots of brothers, and social workers to whom they affectionately refer     as ‘Auntie’.

By western standards their living accommodation was awful. The light was already beginning to fade when our team arrived in late afternoon, but we couldn’t wait to get started. After a quick look around, we pitched in, digging up floors in preparation for the next morning. There was a sense of urgency, as we realised just how much there was to do. 

Next morning, we were up at the crack of dawn, eager to get started. The boys were up before us and treated us to an impromptu concert of traditional African music as the project got underway.

Work continued at a fever pitch for the rest of the first week. Initial shyness over, the boys insisted on helping. They padded over rubble and sharp broken tiles in their bare feet, carrying heavy blocks, pushing wheelbarrows that even I would have struggled with, and shovelling sand into the cement mixer. They painted, brushed, and held things when we ran out of hands.

We could all sense that they were proud to be able to help, and grateful that somebody was doing something just for them. A strong bond developed between the kids and the grownups, although that didn’t keep them out of mischief! For children who had been through so much, they were certainly fun-loving.

The work was hard, and the sweltering heat made it even harder. Through the efforts of Father Peter and Sister Helena (who insisted on bringing down meals from her convent several times over the fortnight), we were well fed. Rest was another matter. Work usually continued until the early hours, and we didn’t so much go to bed as pass out on top of our bunks.

An Ireland vs. South Africa soccer match on the Saturday, our day off, was supposed to be a ‘friendly’ as the burgers cooked, but those kids took no prisoners! Within five minutes we were down 3-0. Through the efforts of Danny and Fabi, on loan from Germany, we managed to keep things to a ‘respectable’ 8-1 defeat.

Renovations were ahead of schedule. While the plaster dried, we painted the hall where the kids spent most of their time; the gas hob was repaired; sewers were unblocked; the roof was waterproofed. Every-body pitched in, and when we saw something that needed fixing, it was fixed.

By the end of the second week, the shelter was unrecognisable. The shower area was tiled and painted, and the boys could now have showers under hot water. The kitchen was also newly tiled and painted; toilets flushed; the hall was freshly painted in bright colours. The place was brightly lit, no longer the gloomy, drab place of two weeks earlier. 

We felt we had achieved something worthwhile. It may have been a drop in the ocean, but to the Streetwise kids, it was a big deal. Every day, they drew us pictures, wrote us cards, painstakingly crafted detailed replica cars from wire and drinks cans. They had nothing, but whatever they had they wanted to give us. It was a truly humbling experience.

On the last day, some of us took the afternoon off to see other projects in Durban supported by the Oblate Youth Service. The children in a crèche, also run by Streetwise, were adorable and delighted to see us. They all wanted to get their photos taken.

The Sukuma Wenze Aids Clinic, however, was a shock. We knew that many of the boys in Streetwise were HIV Positive and would almost certainly contract the disease in the future, but here was the stark reality of what Aids did to people.

We walked through ward after ward of human skeletons, all genuinely pleased to see us. Those who had the energy to do so, sat up, shook our hands and chatted. The others tried to smile or wink.

The most beautiful baby I have ever seen was lying in a cot in the hallway. One of the nurses told us that the child’s mother was dying in the next room. The baby wouldn’t last much longer. He was losing his eyesight and hearing, and Aids sores were beginning to break out on his delicate features.

We left Sukuma Wenze stunned and silent, each buried in thought. I found myself wondering whether what we had done at Streetwise — not so much the building work, rather what we had done with the kids — might change the life of even one of those boys sufficiently to stop him ending his days as we had just witnessed.