poverty – JACOB CLOETE

My Escape From Poverty – Part 8

After being an absent father for most of his life, my biological father decided to send me a friend request on Facebook. The irony of a friend request was not lost to me.

My Escape from Poverty – Part 7

During my escape from poverty, I did all sorts of work. Nothing was beneath me. I worked on a farm while still in high school. Many days I accompanied my grandfather on his tasks and daily routine.

My Escape from Poverty – Part 6

I later went home, but I was not accepted like the lost son I was hoping for. My Grandmother was glad to see me but wanted me to apologise to my uncle and my Grandfather.

My Escape from Poverty – Part 5

Five kilometres outside Bitterfontein, there was a reservoir next to the road. This was where I decided to quickly take a bath and wash my t-shirt. The sun was not out, and there was no time to wait until my t-shirt was dry. So I put it on wet and start walking to Bitterfontein. ItContinue reading “My Escape from Poverty – Part 5”

My Escape from Poverty – Part 4

It was this kind of sleep where you do not dream about anything. When I woke up, it was completely dark. For a moment, I did not know where I was, and then reality hit me. I was running away from home. It was then that I realised that I was busy with something stupid.Continue reading “My Escape from Poverty – Part 4”

My Escape from Poverty – Part 3

The first time I tried to escape was towards the end of 1998. My life as I knew it was falling apart. The school I just adjusted to was closing down, and I knew my grandparents did not have the money to send me to another school. I was frustrated and scared. So one morning,Continue reading “My Escape from Poverty – Part 3”

My Escape from Poverty – Part 2

My escape was also driven by a longing for freedom. And for that, I needed hope, but finding hope in the hopelessness was an indignifying process, an all-out psychological attack. To keep a sense of dignity and keeping the tender flame of hope alive became an all-out war—a war against all forces of society. ItContinue reading “My Escape from Poverty – Part 2”

My Escape from Poverty – Part 1

I think the worst part of growing up poor was called “arm” or poor. But then poverty always sounded better in Afrikaans. In English, poverty sounded terrible. It sounded like a disease, and it also felt that way. Society made sure they treated you that way. Growing up, I never thought that I would escapeContinue reading “My Escape from Poverty – Part 1”