'There's hope'- chance encounter with a homeless man

Walking in Company Gardens, close to St George's mall in Cape Town today; I met a man with the saddest eyes I have ever seen. Yet it wasn't his sad eyes that made me stop to listen to what he had to say, it was his spirit. Listening to his life story I was reminded of one of my favourite India Arie's songs; 'There's hope'.

"There's hope it doesn't cost a thing to smile, you don't have to pay to laugh- you better thank God for that, there's hope."

While taking a quiet walk in the park, I turned to the pleasant voice that asked from just behind me; why I looked so familiar. Now this is one of those strange questions that people on TV always get, and each time its a difficult one to answer. I politely said I'm not sure why I look familiar to him and I carried on with my walk. He kept walking behind me, and within a minute, he said; "I think you are an actress." I laughed and told him that I think he's right. All hope of a quiet walk with just my thoughts to keep me company, quickly dissipated then.

Michael Sasin (yes, I actually asked him to spell it for me), has been living in Cape Town for five years now. He is a well-spoken, tall, African man with a hard face that has been ravaged by the streets on which he sleeps; as well as the pain and turmoil that he has seen in his life. He says his Father was of Jamaican descent and his Mother was a Tswana woman from Mafikeng. He is an orphan whose mother died soon after child birth and whose Father died when he was just two. His grandmother couldn't care for him, so he was adopted illegally by a friend of his father. This meant that he spent a few years of young life living in Czechoslovakia. It was the last formally schooling he had, before he was deported back to South Africa.

The few years of his life in Mafikeng included living in abject poverty and caring for sick relatives who died because of AIDS. He says he was a slave, and his mother's family did not allow him to go to school, and lived in perpetual fear of the bullying he endured as a result of his only speaking English. He cried himself to sleep for many years, and learnt to grow a thick skin. He suffered a mental breakdown, which he described to me as brain damage. God stepped in just in time, and his foster father from the Czech republic came looking for him again. This time they moved to France and Michael joined the military; it is here where he learnt to read and write, and also learnt all sort of interesting things that have to do with weaponery, intelligence and warfare. He was too young to be deployed to any war zones, but I could tell from the way he spoke that those were the best years of his life.

I saw the light in eyes when he told me stories; and although I saw that he was hurting; what stood out was that he was positive, his stomach was empty but he had a strong will to survive. Pain was etched into his features, yet I still saw a light there that can only come from hope. India Arie's song played in my head the whole time I walked beside Mike and listened to him speak.

On our walk, we passed by a McDonalds and I walked inside. I only had a R10 note in my pocket because I had planned to buy myself a can of colddrink on my way back to the flat. I offered to buy him coffee, but I didn't have enough. Very embarrased about bringing him inside and not being able to buy him anything, I sheepishly looked at him and said. "I don't suppose you have like R3 to buy some tea?" As it turned out he had R7. We paid for his cappucino and he asked me if I had the time to sit with him while he drank his coffee, and so we did.

We sat for another hour in the warm restaurant shielded for a minute from the harsh Cape Town wind. I am so glad I spoke to him, because although he made my heart bleed when I heard all that he had gone through; I know that he was my reminder to appreciate even the little things that are so easy to take for granted. It was quite obvious to me that Mike just needed someone to talk to, cynics may even say that he saw a soft target in me and he was guilting me into giving him some money. What I choose to remember about this chance encounter is that when I asked him how it felt to live in the streets, Michael's response was one of the most thought provoking answers I have ever heard. He said; " It is like being a bird in a birdcage crying out for freedom, thrashing against the sides of the cage, not realising that the door has been open all along.

"...That's when I learned a lesson

That it's all about your perception
Hey-are you a pauper or a superstar
So you act, so you feel, so you are
It ain't about the size of your car
It's about the size of the faith in your heart...There's hope."

Thank you, Mike.