The Squatter Camp Animated Chronicles

 Written by Emmanuel Kaitona

It’s a windy morning. Taxi hoots illuminate a gloomy squatter camp so early in the day. Loved aunties, a group of volunteers, under the auspices of Martina Stickling, prepare soup in the kitchen of the Hamilton Street community centre, a distance from this informal settlement. An innocent child, 6-year-old Elijah, sits against the shack walls. Litter scattered around him, showing the neglect and pollution of the environment. “Mama is sick and there is no food,” says the boy to his sister, next to him. “Don’t worry,” she said, “it’s Wednesday, we can go to aunty Tina.” Quick scenes from the previous day could be seen all around him. His mother, the mother of four, was a well-known breadwinner in the neighbourhood. Glimpses of the dark figures who orchestrated her booze as a favour to quench her worries had abused her last night. “Why me Lord, why is my life like this?” was her prayer as she nurses her bruises that morning.

She used to work for a big company before the pandemic. During lockdown, things fell apart and turned to the Hamilton Street shelter for a couple of months. But moved to the squatter camp to be closer to her friends. That is how Elijah got familiar with Soul Outreach Community Upliftment soup kitchen’s schedules. The colour returns, the child rises, determination in his eyes as the thought of aunty Tina and a fresh meal crosses his mind. He prepares for the day, following his routine as his mother instructed him. The clock on the table signals the start of the line of hungry kids. An exodus of young sojourners heading for Soul Outreach Community Upliftment in Hamilton Street for a meal. Crossing the streets and dodging oncoming traffic, they got to their destination.

As Martina Stickling opens the gate and calls, “Food is ready. Kids come in first.” In a second, the yard is full of youngsters, the air thick with anticipation. Elijah, amid other children, with empty lunch boxes, plates and spoons in hand, stands in a single file with confident anticipation. They are not just hungry; they represent the outcomes of a community struck by economic meltdown since the days of COVID-19 lockdown. As the feeding begins, loud music plays from a distance. The shadowy figures present a twisted version of events. We see ghostly images of the real perpetrators, the instigators, in the background. Their smirks and whispers tell of their next conspiracy as they share the green and brown bottles. The unemployed, who gave up trying, tackle their days guzzling from dawn to dusk. All they are left to do now is to let life’s frustrations and trauma pass through a haze of booze. With heavy hearts, they sing the well-known song of Micheal Jackson. Lamenting about work, providing for their families, instead of being on the street. “Heal the world, make it a better place, for you and for me and the entire universe.”

Stomach full, Elijah takes to the streets again. Music welcomes him back into the squatter camp. Facts and evidence appear around him as he walks down the dusty streets. An accurate picture of an abused mother and an absent father figure. Highlighting the cruel irony of being neglected by those who should be their stronghold. “We need more donations, not only food but clothes and blankets. Also, a safe home for the abused kids.” This has been Stickling’s anthem for years. Aunty Tina, as she is known by the children in her area, sweats as the gravity of the burden bears down on her. Scenes flash through her mind’s eye. The reality of the injustice, the neglect and abuse and the empty faces of the children whose youth have been stolen. The spoon in her hand feels heavier as each child’s story is unearthed. “The thing is,” she told herself, “l cannot give up on my community. They need me. This is my calling.” Time slows down as she went to the office of the social workers. With a strike that echoes, she demands justice for the child, calling for social workers’ investigation into the perpetrators. 

“Enough is enough. Something needs to be done for this child,” she said to other volunteers at the centre. When the intervention of the authorities finally came, the community erupts in animated cheers as a smiling Elijah, mother and sister, steps out into the sunlight. The horizon promising a new chapter in their lives.

“Thank you, aunty Tina.” Elijah said, as they cross the doorpost at the centre. “As I feed the children, a thousand stories are told,” she repeated with a heavy sigh. “Be part of your community!” Tina says to everyone who cares to listen. The soft sound of rain signifies the cleansing and hope of the day as Elijah and his family unpacked their belongings for this new phase.