Things were not always this bad for Sandile Nxongo. Just a few years ago he was a typical teenager, full of life. He went to the same high school in rural KZN, outside Pietermaritzburg, with his girlfriend Xolile Mcineka. Xolile fell pregnant while Sandile was in Grade 11. Her parents disowned her; chased her out of their house. Sandile’s mom had no choice but to take Xolile in.

Sandile’s family is poor. His father passed when he was toddler. His mother is sickly, but not sick or old enough to receive a state pension. When Xolile got pregnant, Sandile’s mother looked at her son with a mixture of sympathy and disappointment.

“My son, I see that this situation calls for drastic measures,” his mother said. “I wish I worked at a good job so you don’t have to drop out of school to look for work. I wanted you to finish high school, Sandile, and get a tertiary education.”

“That is also my wish, Ma, but what can we do?” said Sandile. “This child has to eat and Xolile needs money for good food and taxi fare to go to the clinic. A man has to do what he has to do.”

Sandile’s cousin, Smanga, was already working in Johannesburg. “There is plenty of work in Jozi,” Smanga would say, every time he returned home for the holidays. “If you are not picky about work I can always organise a job for you.”

So when Smanga was next home Sandile went to him and said, “I need a job, mzala (cousin). I am not picky. I need to feed Mama and my pregnant girlfriend.”

“We leave in two days, mzala. Leave everything to me and you will be alright,” said Smanga.

Sandile kissed his pregnant girlfriend goodbye, hugged his mother, and left for Johannesburg with Smanga.

The Johannesburg Smanga lived in was not the one Sandile had seen on television soapies. Smanga lived in the shacks of Alexandra township. Sandile first realised things were not going to be as rosy as Smanga had promised, when they knocked on the door of his shack.

“Shouldn’t you have the key to your own house, Smanga?” asked Sandile.

“Don’t worry. My lady is–”

His girlfriend opened the door. She took one glance at Sandile with his bags and her expression changed to rage.

“No ways, Smanga! Where is he going to sleep? What will he eat? I can’t take any more of this,” Smanga’s girlfriend shouted. “Is it not enough that my hard-earned money is spent on you? Now you bring this stranger, when you don’t have a cent to your own name!”

Smanga turned to Sandile. “Wait here,” he said. He entered the shack and closed the door.

Sandile heard the most disrespectful war of words between Smanga and his girlfriend. It was obvious that he was not welcome in her shack.

Sandile decided to leave, even with no place to go, no place to sleep. That is how he he came to be sleeping on the streets of nearby, rich Sandton.

***

Tell us what you think: Is a life in Joburg better than a life in a small town or rural area? Why/Why not?