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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required My Bothers and Sisters (Street Kids) We grow up in public landfills, train stations, under the bridges of towns, victims of all kinds of abuse, but we still had rights… because of conflicts with our relatives, we did not want to return to families. The public is unfair towards us; they regard us as street kids and a danger to society. They also label us 'thieves ', 'dagga smokers ', 'glue sniffers ' and 'alcohol abusers ', while they have no idea who we are." We lack the basic necessities of foodstuff, health care and a safe place to stay. We eat unhealthy foods such as ice cream, cakes, etc. known as vagrants, rag-pickers and glue-sniffers and blot out the violence we faces on a daily basis. we share the same name- street kids. It is painful to be called 'a street kid' when we are not responsible for our situations. Yes, some of us ran away from home, but others like me are orphans, and our relatives are not prepared to live with us. They laugh at us as we ate food from the dust bin, we are often dirty and infested with fleas. We are felt stigmatised, homeless, hungry and abused, surviving by begging, finding odd jobs, scavenging rubbish sites, or prostitution. We had huge suffering, we are abandoned... going to the streets is an act of despair. We are not only homeless or roofless, but we are also culturally rootless. clothe crop-dusted with dirt and orange crumbs, as are our shorts, shoes, hair, faces. Our hair is still damp with perspiration, and beads of sweat streaked little paths in the dirt on the sides of his face.
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