“Sleep well, enjoy your bed”.

It is night, around 9 p.m., dark, very foggy; I drive at a speed of 20 km in the mountains.
Fog … here in the mountains it feels like driving into a cloud. You can hardly see 2 meters; the way which is normally so familiar becomes completely strange.
Where was that one pit, where did the road turn … and before you know it, you are stuck in that pit and stand in the grass because you missed that one turn …

To Molweni, that’s where I have to be. After an emergency call of a woman from the village, I jumped into my car to examine the situation on the spot.

A man, a little boy of two sleeping on the back of a lady, a volunteer of Khulani Simunye and a third lady stood there, waiting for me in the dark, foggy road.
The man had been thrown out by his drunk and aggressive landlord. The wife of the landlord had said: “You don’t have to go; he won’t remember this in the morning.” But the man explained that the landlord had a gun and that all he could think was: “My son, I have to get out of here with my son.”

In the dark night, rain and fog he took his child and some of his stuff and went to the other side of the mountain to get help. He was looking for a place to spend the night, yes he worked, and he had a little bit of money, but not enough to pay the rent of a room. One room 2,5 meters on 1,5… R110-00 (EUR 9).

The little boy slept, breathing heavily and coughing now and then. “That little one needs to be in bed”, is the only thing I thought, “as soon as possible”.
We all stood there in and around the room, an empty room, no floor, no electricity, there was a little tap with water “somewhere”, no bed, only four bricks on the ground.

“Do you have blankets” one of the ladies asked.
“He cannot sit here with his child on the wet ground?”
As far as I could see, everybody nodded; I had only the small light of my telephone …

To my opinion, the man seemed very good-natured. I saw no evil at all in him. The love he showed for his son was so warm, so paternal. I couldn’t understand … a man with a two year old child …. the ladies told me that he takes his son everywhere he goes.
“He is a good man” and everyone nodded again.

“What to do now?
“I don’t know; I don’t know; I don’t know” … three times.
“We called you for help” one of them said.

“You know I really want to help, but what do you expect from me in this case?”
“I don’t know”: three times.
The man said that tomorrow he would get money from a lady for whom he built a house. Then he can pay the rent.

"But do you want to spend the night with your son here on the floor?”
“I have no other choice” he answered.

My heart cried. I saw real uprightness in the man’s eyes. He didn’t want this; he wanted things to be better for his son.

I decided!
“Tonight you and your son can spend the night with me, but only for 1 night”
One of the ladies started to cry: “Siyabonga kakhulu” (we are so grateful).

Together with the man and his little son I drove again into the dangerous dark fog. This time I didn’t drive into the pit nor did I miss the turn.
Once at home I took the sleeping boy out of the car and put him on the sofa.

A nice warm cup of tea, safely inside, and the man started to talk, told me his entire life.
How he also has two daughters, a twin,
Who live in a orphanage, they only speak English …
How his wife left him for drinking and all things relating to it.
She abandoned her children.
How he raised his little son from since he was only 2 months.
Washed his little cloths, taught him to walk, and taught him to talk
How he got into crime:
He had to steal to survive, he didn’t want to steal.
How he got into prison twice, convicted to 15 years, but released after 7 years.
That in prison he was maltreated and abused …
How he did little jobs for people.
He is good in electronics, is known for repairing refrigerators and TV’s.
How he sees his people, his own race, his own colour.
Black people are not good people, they maltreat and they abuse.
How he looks up at white people.
Whites have no traditional rituals, they do not abuse, they do not cut hearts out of bodies of children, they do not cut the skull open to cook the contents of the head, no, white people don’t do that.
How he wants to help.
He wants to talk, he wants to tell where he comes from, and he wants to say that crime is wrong.
how …
how …

The man talked and talked and talked for two hours.
I had an enormous respect for this special man. Now and then I got tears in my eyes.
Strong, powerful and yet very soft and kind, enormously respectful.


I offered him to take a shower before going to sleep. The little boy already slept deeply.

Meanwhile the cottage was ready and they could go to sleep. With the little one in my arms again into the dark night to the cottage.
The father affectionately took his son over from me and put him to bed.

“Sleep well, enjoy your bed”.