Chapter 1
I’m twenty-seven years old and I’m already a ghost. It’s funny if you think about it. I got a man’s body but the life of a stray dog. I don’t know what my face looks like never had a reason to check a mirror but I know it’s ugly. I know because people look at me like I’m some disgusting, rotting animal.
I see it in how they cling to their bags when they pass me, or how they hold their children tight when they see me coming. How I wish my mom had held me that tight. I don't even know why I still call her that. She didn't just leave; she threw me away like a piece of trash that was smelling up her house. Tossed me to the vultures and went back inside with no guilt about how I would survive.
I see men in suits go past me and they look at me with pity, or disgust, or just pure arrogance. And I look up and wonder why God keeps blessing them while He just side-eyes people like me. It pains me how they think I’m always looking for a handout. It pains me how they throw food at me like I chose this life.
But you know what I hate the most? I hate how they assume I’m here because of drugs. They think I smoked or drank my life away. To be honest... some days I wish it was like that. I wish I had a high to hide in. But I don’t. I’m wide awake for all of it. A big, weak man who can’t even read a street sign, with a voice that sounds like a stranger's .
"Ahemmm..."
He is brought back to earth by a girl who looks like she's in her early twenties. She’s standing too close,close enough that he can smell her soap, a scent that doesn't belong in his world.
He looks up, his face hardening into a mask. "A wu sabi ukuthi ngi nga Ku bamba inkunzi?" (Aren't you scared I might rob you?)
He expects her to flinch, to grab her bag and run like the others. But she just lets out a small, tired laugh. "If you were going to do that, you would’ve done it the last ten times I walked past you sitting here. I've seen you many times... I think you’re just a man who’s lost his way."
He looks at her like she’s speaking a language from another planet. His heart is hammering against his ribs, but his tongue feels heavy. "Angi kuzwi mina," (I don't lunderstand you) he mutters, turning his head away. He wants her to leave before she sees his "dirty nails and fingers "the words are starting to shake.
She puts the food and the money down on the ground. She doesn’t throw it. She places it there with respect, like she’s giving it to a human being, not a dog.
He looks at the ground. He wants to be angry, but he’s just tired.
She turns to leave, but then she stops. She looks at him and says, "Ngingu Nonkululeko."
He watches her walk away into the crowd. He feels his chest tighten. He needs her to know he isn't just a shadow. He forces his voice to work, shouting it out before she disappears.
"Ngingu Sinqobile!"
The "ghost" finally has a name.
