The Pavement Bookworm

by Philani Dladla

  My own boys, my friends who lived under the bridge with me, came in numbers with new faces to attack me. They were led by Simon, popularly known as Lesiba – another heartless street king. After Bongani was stabbed to death, Simon replaced him. It was like the devil sent him to give me a hard time. He never liked me and he said I thought I was better than everyone else since I managed to quit drugs successfully. He expected me to relapse again and when that didn’t happen he started abusing me every day, calling my feeding scheme a Mickey Mouse business. He physically attacked me many times but I never fought back because he was expecting it, and then he would kill me with the okapi knife he kept in his pocket. I still have scars on my head, which are reminders of how he once broke a bottle on my head.

  As soon as Twanji and the crew arrived it was like a tsunami. The cameraman was setting up his camera while Twanji was busy introducing herself. I couldn’t believe what happened next and that I got to live and didn’t die that day. Simon started beating me and said he was going to kill me because I kept on calling the media people to come annoy them with their big cameras. He claimed that he knew that the video they were about to make was going be shown on TV to show their families and friends where they were hiding. They said I was embarrassing them. They never wanted to see me again. They told me that if they saw me on Empire Road or at the Mandela Bridge again they would skin me alive. Simon said he would be more than happy to ‘personally organise my trip to hell’. I believed him.

  The camera man tried to explain that they were only going to interview me and only tell my story and video me. But the guys didn’t understand his explanation and it only made things worse and they carried on beating me. Everyone ran for their lives and the crew gave me a ride in their car and dropped me off far away from the nyaope guys.

  The interview didn’t happen that day, and from then on I was no longer welcome on Empire Road. Hate drove Simon to turn it into a no-go zone for me. Since I was forcefully removed I knew if they ever saw me there I would die like Bongani. Since that day I have never stepped foot there again. Things had turned sour once again; I didn’t know where to go from there. Mandela Bridge was my home and Empire Road was paying my bills. Without both those things I had to start all over again.

  Fortunately my good friend Henry introduced me to a friend who had a friend who had cheap accommodation to rent. Henry paid my first month’s rent because I had used all the money I had saved to travel to KwaZulu-Natal. There was nothing sexy about my new home. We lived in an abandoned building with no electricity or running water. The only good thing about it was that I only had to pay R100 as monthly rent and I didn’t have to worry about a bed or a blanket because my landlord was kind enough to share his bed with me.

  It helps having good friends like Henry, but he was not going to feed me. I had to make my own money and take care of myself. My problem was that I was used to being my own boss, I didn’t like the idea of working for somebody else. Even if I wanted to go job hunting it was a big joke because I had lost my Identity Document and I had no Curriculum Vitae or a reference from a previous employer. I had many books that I could’ve sold but I didn’t know where to sell them. The people from Wits University were my friends and they supported me. I missed them. I wanted to go back there but I knew my friends-turned-enemies would murder me. Since I stopped doing drugs I valued my life more than money and, although some people from Wits still owed me money, I was afraid to go back.

  I love God. He did a good job by creating the lucky fool I am. That day he proved to me just how much he loved and cared about me. My friend Peter Walters called to tell me we had to meet in Greenside because he wanted to give me my share of his first salary. I didn’t know where Greenside was and he said to take a taxi to Randburg and ask the driver to drop me off at a restaurant called Doppio Zero. I did as instructed and when I got there he was already waiting. We had lunch at Doppio Zero then we went to an ATM where he withdrew R1000 for me. He showed me around Greenside and it was peaceful and quiet there that day and I liked that place. I only saw a man in his seventies begging. I knew an old man like him was not doing nyaope so I didn’t expect any trouble. The following day I packed my books and took a taxi to Greenside. I chose Gleneagles Road.

  Many people knew about my famous pile of books and me. They didn’t waste time and started supporting me right away. There were a few rotten potatoes that looked at me like I was crazy and made racist comments. They didn’t know that I had seen and heard worse. I just didn’t care. I looked at them like ‘hey fool, do you even know who I am?’ and continued doing my thing. I made some cash, had lunch at a nice restaurant and took some cash home. I fell in love with Greenside from day one.

  The thing that broke my heart was that every day on my way to Greenside, the taxi went via Empire Road and I would see the guys who forced me to leave my street corner and my friends from Wits. They still did everything they used to do when I lived on the streets with them, begging for money and smoking it up and then getting back on the streets to beg for more – a monkey’s game. Some hadn’t bathed for a year or two and I don’t know where all the others went but I knew that some were dead or doing time in jail. They were gambling with their lives. They saw their friends dying every day but continued doing drugs while waiting for their turn to die, like the guy who has sex with a girl who tells him ‘Hey Mister, I’m HIV positive’ and he says, ‘Liar! How can a beautiful lady like you be HIV positive?’ When HIV becomes AIDS and he gets sick he says, ‘Silly me, what was I thinking? She told me but I was blinded by her beauty.’ Drug addicts know that drugs will kill them but only regret it when it’s too late to turn back.

  I was making some money in Greenside, but it didn’t make me happy because I was used to making people smile. I suppose I could’ve started another feeding scheme but my black brothers had broken my heart when they showed me how ungrateful people can be. After all the things I had done for them they still didn’t like seeing things going well for me. So I decided to invest in our future leaders instead, not that I was making a fortune, but I saw myself as blessed for surviving what I had survived. One of the many things I have learnt is that while you can fast and pray or go to church and pray as a way to thank God, there’s no better way to thank God than by doing things for others. I realised that I didn’t have to wait until all my prayers were all answered. I did not need to wait until I had more than I needed; anyone can start by sharing the little you already have. I often hear rich kids saying ‘poverty is contagious’. Well, that’s bull. Don’t wait until you’re rich to change the world; start with what you can do today. God will prove to you that givers never lack. I decided that no matter how little I was making I would share with others. My mother taught me that giving is a gift to the giver; so when I need a gift I give somebody a gift. You won’t be poor when you give a hungry kid some food to eat or a homeless man some clothes to wear. You see, good reader, happiness is the gift I get from giving and it is highly contagious … as contagious as a smile is.

  Building a happy sandpit: My book club takes off

  REMEMBER I ALREADY TOLD YOU that the two kids who carried my parcels for me in the Central Park apartment when I first came out of Sterkfontein were the first members of my book readers’ club? Well, I asked them to meet me at Joubert Park with their friends one day after school. We made more friends in the park and every day new friends came to join us. Our family started growing rapidly, even though some kids took our books and never came back. The kids told their friends, their friends liked the idea and they invited their friends. Our club was growing. We were growing faster than I could make the money to buy more children’s books for our club, so I asked my customers to exchange as many children’s books as they could for a single adult’s book. They brought lots of children’s books to exchange. Most simply donated and took nothing in exchange. That’s how we grew from those first two members to having more than 50 members by the time I did my TEDx talk. We are growing stronger every day and we ha
ve more than 250 kids in downtown Johannesburg under our wings, all interested in books. Do yourselves a favour: next time you are anywhere near Joubert Park, ask any kid you see about the uncle that gives them books. Their answers will be proof of the impact that The Pavement Bookworm has made in many of their lives.

  Greenside took longer than I had hoped to fall in love with the Pavement Bookworm, but I had fallen in love with Greenside and needed to find a way to make it work. Yes, people were buying my books but I needed more customers. So I decided to make my new spot just as famous as my old spot at Empire Road. I called the guys from SABC 3’s breakfast show Expresso to do the interview we didn’t do on Empire Road. That interview worked like magic because after the interview aired more people came to buy books from me.

  Maybe I was getting greedy because I was still not satisfied. I needed more customers. I received a call from the producer of Jenny’s Book Show on Talk Radio 702, saying they were interested in doing an interview with me. As I needed more free advertising for my new spot in Greenside I grabbed the opportunity and gave her the green light. It was a smart move because the Pavement Bookworm was introduced to more new friends.

  One of them was DJ Sbu, a famous South African DJ. He really is a man with a golden heart and he played a big role in the life of the Pavement Bookworm. DJ Sbu got hold of me and asked me to do an interview on his show on Metro FM. After that our friendship grew from strength to strength. After the interview he called and said he’d like to help pay my expenses so I could re-write my Grade 12 and help grow my readers’ club. Every day was a good day for me from then on. He gave me more media exposure and introduced me to famous people and powerful entrepreneurs. One day he interviewed me on the same day that he interviewed a gentleman named Colin J Browne, the author of the book How to Build a Happy Sandpit. It teaches entrepreneurs how to hire the right man for the job and how to make the people who work for you more productive and happy at work. What can I say about Mr Browne other than that this world needs more people like him and that we’re still friends today. That cool cat gave me the gift of a VIP ticket to attend the Global Success Summit, an event held at Sandton Convention Centre where he was one of the speakers. The summit was packed with rich people, business minds and movers and shakers. I was the ‘poorest’ guy who attended that event – I didn’t even have a bank account. This didn’t stop the Pavement Bookworm from mingling with the rich and famous and it was a great experience.

  Introducing me to Mr Browne wasn’t the only thing that the legendary DJ Sbu did for the Pavement Bookworm. He didn’t like the place where I lived. Although I had a roof over my head he thought it was too dangerous for me there and that it was only slightly better from being a street kid. I was getting robbed and once I got stabbed while a robbery was in progress.

  Just like his name Sibusiso, DJ Sbu was a real blessing to me. He paid my lodgings at Johannesburger Hotel on Twist Street, just to keep me safe and away from thugs. He also wanted to find me accommodation near a school where I could go to complete my Grade 12. DJ Sbu did not give up easily and he worked hard to get me enrolled. Rental can get expensive, so he took me into his home to live with him and his wife and their daughter.

  Through DJ Sbu, I got a glimpse of the good life. He bought me fresh clothes and food and new books. He helped me get a new Identity Document and managed to get me into a school and a place to live. We used to travel together visiting schools and doing motivational talks. Life was good.

  For some reason, as soon as things were going my way things fell apart. I never really started school but I went to collect stationery and got my accommodation sorted. My granny passed away and uMa got sick so I had to go home for a few days. When I got home there was more family drama and problems. My head was messed up. I decided that my family was more important than flashy material things and school, all of which had to wait. My mother was there for me when we had nothing to eat and comforted me when malnutrition had ravaged my body. The least I could do was to be supportive to her; I was home for two months. Even though DJ Sbu had already spent a lot more than R15 000 on me I had to drop everything and rush back to KwaZulu-Natal; but he never gave up on me. He is still my good friend and is still very supportive.

  Next year I will go and write my Grade 12 again and he is behind me all the way. What I like about him is that he doesn’t just talk the talk. This year he is back at his desk doing his MBA. I know that young black South Africans who make things happen like DJ Sbu will always be an inspiration to me.

  The unluckiest lucky guy I know

  I GREW UP WATCHING MY MOTHER being kind to people that weren’t always grateful. But I am testament to what kindness from strangers can do to change your life. I have had people who didn’t have to help me go out of their way to help me. I’m afraid that this book will be as thick as a dictionary if I go into the details about how good people like Peter Walters have been to me. Not only did he have faith in me and give me R1000 a month from his first salary, he introduced me to my new family, the Bryanston Bible Church. I’m the luckiest unlucky guy I know because every time I pray to God my prayers always get answered. After each prayer is answered another challenge comes my way. Through my journey I have come to know and make friends with a number of really incredible people from all walks of life, and I have developed friendships that overlook racial lines. I value them all because they add value to my life and I learn something new every time I’m with them. What I like most about them is they make me smile when I felt like giving up.

  I continue to be amazed at the power of family. Even after the many years I spent without them, I love my family just as much as you love yours. We’ve been through a lot together; from having an abusive father to almost being killed by his crazy family members to no Christmas lunch; no fireworks to celebrate New Year’s like all the families in my hood always do to no money for taxi fare to go to the beach like all other kids do when celebrating first of January of every year in coastal KwaZulu-Natal. We lost many loved ones – our relatives and family members who we cried and laughed together with. I have been away from home for a very long time and only go home for family emergencies or for Christmas holidays. Yet, these are the people that know and understand me better than people who I spend almost the whole year with in Johannesburg. All the memories we made together, all the hard times we’ve been through, all the tears we shared and the situations we survived, money can’t buy all that.

  What I have seen and learned is that everybody wants to be successful; even a hobo wants to be successful. What I also learned is that success means different things to different people. To most people success means wealth, but to some it means recognition, while to some it means happiness, satisfaction and peace of mind. I know for sure that success requires sacrifice.

  One day DJ Sbu, PJ Speaker, another gentleman called Frederick K Mamabdo and I were speaking to the youth in Tembisa. All the words Frederick spoke to the youth were filled with wisdom. I was very impressed with what he had to say.

  ‘Sir, your words are filled with wisdom. Can I please ask you something?’ I said to him.

  ‘Why not?’ he said.

  ‘Cool! Tell me your definition of success?’ I asked.

  ‘Success is when one sets goals and progressively accomplishes them. Look at these definitions carefully, “Progressive” means that success is a journey, not a destination. We never arrive; after we have reached one goal, we go on the next and the next and the next. “Accomplish” means it is an experience. Outside forces cannot make me feel successful. I have to feel it within myself. It is internal not external. Mr Philani, success and happiness go hand in hand. Success is getting what you want and happiness is wanting what you’ve got! Existence alone is not success. Success is a lot more than just existence,’ he explained.

  I would’ve loved to learn more from him, but time was against us. DJ Sbu had to go do his radio show at Metro FM but I learned a lot that day from that wise man.

  The media introduce
d me to many people and opportunities. I don’t remember if that insert was shown on eTV News or on ANN7. All I remember is that the creative director from a marketing agency called Gullan and Gullan was watching an insert about me and she liked my story and said that they wanted to do something to help me. That lovely lady with a golden heart is Desiree Gullan. She sent Kathryn McConnachie to arrange a meeting with me. Kathryn followed me on Twitter and sent me a tweet saying, ‘Hi Philani. I’d like us to meet. My directors would like to help you take your project to the next level.’

  We arranged our meeting via Twitter, messaging each other. Two weeks and four days later we met for the first time at my favourite restaurant, Doppio Zero in Greenside. People call it my office because every time I have to meet someone we meet there. That meeting was the beginning of many good things. Kath asked me what I wanted help with. I told her that I really appreciated that they were so interested in helping me grow as an individual but the only thing I needed from them was for them to help me help my kids. She asked me how they could do that and who my kids were. So I told her about my family of children in Joubert Park and the kids readers’ club. I told her everything she wanted to know, like how many kids were members of my club, their ages, what grades they were doing at school and if they had parents or not. The more I explained about the kids’ living conditions the more she understood why I cared so much about them more than I cared about my own needs.