A blanket the prize, a life at stake

Calvin was stabbed tonight. For a blanket, and his earnings of the day. Another homeless guy he talks with was there too, but did not come to help him. Four holes in the right hand, one under his jaw, and one above the right eye. For a blanket and at most R30.00.

I met the dominee, a good hearted man. A real person. It’s refreshing to meet real people. People who see life as it is, and face it. He asks “How did you know to come tonight?”. I didn’t, but here I am just at a time when my friend really needs me. “Perhaps God knew” I hear myself say. “Ja, perhaps God knew”.

His body aches and groans escape as he relates how the fight had been. Bottles had been stored behind the aloe, bottles that were smashed on his head. Four bottles. He laughs. “I have a hard head”, he says. I reply “You’ll have a hard headache tomorrow”. We laugh. “Ja, it’ll have to be a big grandpa tomorrow. I’ll sleep under the palm tree.”

Glass crunches beneath my boots as I climb back onto the bike. I sms Melissa with the news.

“Calvin was stabbed tonight. 6x. He’s alright. He is most upset because he was trying to keep himself tidy for Alice’s visit. Is it still this weekend?”

The dominee has let him sleep in a room tonight, but with strict instructions “Lock the door behind you, and make sure you are out before the office staff arrive. Please keep it clean.”. Calvin gratefully takes the key, but stands outside with me. I tell him to go in, to which he replies, “Not until you go”. It’s after midnight, time to go.

Good night my bru. Come visit me again. You’re the only friend I’ve got. Humbling words.

It is refreshing being with him. There are no pretences. I know who he is, what he is now. I guess at what he could be. Life is what it is. Problems at work, and an imminent meeting I dread melt away as meaningless in the face of a life on the streets.

Life that is meaningless when there is a blanket at stake.
A blanket the prize, a life at stake.