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A story about a homeless man who struggles with the corona fiction lockdown in the streets of Johannesburg. He struggles with his mental health and this in turn makes this particular lockdown situation rather difficult for him.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020
I’m going to die tonight. I am certain of that. Tonight, is the night I bid farewell to my mama. She will dream about me one last time on her bed my father left her when he passed on. Her body will tense in the night as my life escapes my cold and inhuman form. In that hour she will know that I am finally gone. She will not be able to mourn. Nor will she be able to wear that traditional blanket over her body. This will all be hard for her to articulate because she will have no confirmation of my death.
I can see it clearly now, the cops looming over my decaying body. The stench will be too much for the rookie and he will puke all the pap and nyama he consumed from the street vendor. I wonder, as I lay there cold, is he puking due to my body or is it the meat that was already putrefying when he ate it. They will call me a ‘John Doe’, as I lost all my documents a long time ago. Most days I am so far up in the astral plane that I have no understanding of what this world is offering or not offering.
My name is Vusimuzi Bamphile Khumalo. I am from Umlazi in KZN and I am a nyaope addict. This is the part where you say, ‘Hello Vusi.’ I have come to my own AA of sorts in my mind with multiple versions of myself.