BY SILENCE MUGADZAWETA SEKURU George Sigauke braves the rains, rummaging through reeking heaps of garbage scattered around Mbare, Harare’s oldest suburb, for empty plastic bottles for recycling. The old man appears sluggard and spiritless to many who rush past him on the streets. Having been homeless for over 20 years, calling Ardbennie shopping centre his home, he wishes life was different. He has no children to talk of, all five of them having disappeared into thin air without trace, an honest-to-goodness case of family estrangement. “I had five children, I’m not sure maybe they died or just disappeared into the world,” he says. With no identification documents to confirm his age, name, or even village, Sekuru Sigauke only remembers his age. At 74, the visibly old man staggers carrying bulky bags of empty plastic bottles that he sells to recycling companies to earn a living. Clad in tatty clothes, and their musty odour, the old man trudges to reach Petreco Zim Trading, a recycling company where he sells his daily pickings. He gets $50 per 15 kilogrammes, which he uses to buy food. The old man goes into deep thought as he counts five $10 notes expressing dissatisfaction. You could read a book from his face, piles of sad stories manifesting. In a good week, Sekuru Sigauke delivers his wares three times. He has a strange appearance, almost as if it was contrived. The old man tries to remember his youthful days, scratching his head in deep thought, but he can only retrieve snippets, as the rest has been wiped out. He has never benefited from government’s social services or the COVID-19 non-formal sector fund. His memories are as cloudy as his eyes. The old man has one wish, only one wish: to get his pension and have a go at life. “If only I could get my pension, and as long as I can stand, I can make an effort to fend for myself,” he says. The desire to live still flares as bright as a star-flame. He takes us through vivid memories of his employment history, which began when he was employed by the Rhodesian Wattle Co Ltd for five years. He says he later came to Mabelreign in Harare, where he worked for a white family for three years. For 37 years, he was employed by Phiona Smith doubling as a cook and gardener. In his entire employment history, Sekuru Sigauke is bitter about the Smith family. He says they ran way without telling him, leaving him stranded and destitute. He wishes someone could help him locate the Smith family so he could claim what is due to him. “All I want know is how to find my former employer,” he adds. As it stands, there are no close family members to look after him, or check on his health. The chapters of his life are written there to read: strength of character and memories of lost loves tinged with sadness because he is alone in the world now. Sekuru Sigauke says he hails from Mutambara village in Chimanimani, and is of the Chihwa, Bonga totem. Having last visited his rural home in 1951, he confesses that he was swallowed by the city. For years, Sekuru Sigauke has endured the vagaries of the we