Poverty glazed in honey is not sweet!

I travelled down to Hermanus by road last week. All I can say for the 32nd millionth time is; "What a fantastic country we live in."

Why by road? Well, to put it politely: I hate having someone "too big" sitting next to me in a plane.

They give you a taste of "Land Reform" by having their body on your side of the seat...that you paid for. In a twisted way, driving one's own car gives you an "individual's experience" of what some revolutionary political parties are talking about in our country. So I prefer to be my own president...in my own car...so to speak.  

Just before I got to Ixopo, an hour or so into my journey, I encountered homeless kids almost every 500m showing cars driving past something that was on a cardboard plate. I did what most motorists do when someone is trying to sell you something...cranked up the volume.

I couldn't stand to see the look of disappointment in their faces as I drove past. Dying with guilt, I pulled over 200m away from this one boy, thinking he won't be willing to walk up to my car. And no he didn't walk up to me...he ran like a runaway slave to me. 
 
He very respectfully greeted me" "Sawubona bhuti omdala".(Good afternoon big brother) "Eita..." I replied, trying to be cool. All the way that he sprinted, he didn't spill anything. What he had in this cardboard tray was pieces of wild honeycomb, straight from the hive.

I have not seen that since I was 12-years-old, growing up in the rurals. YES, I have honey at home...in a jar, but not in its natural state. He must have been no older than 13 years old. So I asked him where did he get it from? "...ehlathini (in the forest) he said.

Ooh yes, I clicked! It's honey harvesting time. Bees don't make honey in winter, there's no flowers or nectar for them. So you get the most perfect honeycombs, also, if you harvest or hunt for honey on a winter's morning, you won't get stung so much by bees, as they are somewhat lazy... (those were our theories back then.) 
 
Unlike his clients, I was not interested in the honey...but rather taking a pic of it. I requested this and he obliged. I then asked him, through all the dangers of potentially being stung to death by wild bees for a few grams of sweetness, how much does he sell each piece for? R20, he said! I took a long stare into space and sighed.

Okay, I said. I walked to the car, took R20 out of my wallet and gave it to him. He then asked to choose which of these pieces I want? No thanks, that's for you, I said. 
 
As I got back in the car, I had so many questions to ask him, but I realised it would be unfair to cross examine him...after all he's just a kid making a sweet deal. Looking around at the endless hills of sugar cane, this indeed is a sweet part of the country. How sweet is it though, for a kid to risk death with bees for R20 a pop?

Each kilometer as I drove closer and closer to Ixopo, my eyes were met by human settlements, in what I perceive as possibly the worst for anyone. Outside toilets...in this cold! Electricity....at a distance! And school kids hussling by selling honey on the side of the main road just to make some money, of which being on a road as a pedestrian is suicidal on its own. 
 
What if my child was to sell honey like that to make a living or support my family? I wondered if the Dept of Social Development actually knows about this? I grew up in the rurals, all my family members stayed in one hut, made a fire on the floor to cook and keep warm...as per the norm. The reason for us to hunt for honey was for our entertainment in between cattle herding duties (on weekends). It was a pastime activity! Yes we brought it home to share...just like we did when we found mushrooms. But it was not for commercial purposes. My family members were too proud to have us (kids) working for an extra buck. My aunt and older cousins would work the maize, beans and amadumbe fields...while we worked the milking and herding of cattle (little boys' chores.)  As a bonus, my mother was working in the city contributing in hard cash what she earned there. 
 
I guess times have changed drastically, or perhaps I live in a bubble in my bachelor flat in Umhlanga, with ALL the services that I don't even need...typing this away  on a R6000 mobile computer. I think poverty has intensified greatly in the rurals from what I knew and experinced, so much so that you can't do the single most important thing for a child. To play! You actually need to have a job, no matter how dangerous it is...just to make R20. 
 
All in all, I must commend these boys, the entrepreneurial spirit is there! Perhaps, if the big boys (forestry and environment companies) could come in and make "Honey Farming" (not honey hunting) a business for these communities, the future could be more hopeful for these brave souls, who hunt bees with no protection and risk being knocked down by us motorists on the side of the road.

Here is the honey pic that cost me R20: