“Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come.” ~ 2 Corinithians 5:17

Gerald Johnson was born in the Joodsekamp area of the Knysna township in October of 1990.  This was just a couple of months before our second son was born.  Had we been living in the same part of the world at the time, Gerald could have grown up with my boys.  I imagine they could have thrown the baseball around or played video games together.

Instead, my boys grew up with a very different childhood than Gerald.  Upper middle class.  Taking so many things for granted… a home, food, transportation, education, family, sports, and endless opportunities.

For Gerald, life was much different.  He was the son of a Xhosa father and a coloured mother in a poverty stricken township.  The child of a marriage not accepted by his Xhosa grandparents.  To make matters worse, when Gerald was only 2-years old, his father died in a work accident (he worked with a tree feller).

This set Gerald’s life trajectory in motion.  His dad’s parents decided to start selling off everything Gerald’s father owned… including his home.  They said his mother had no claim to any of it, as she was “just” a coloured woman.  A nothing.  And within the next couple of years they even managed to take her children from her (Gerald and his half-sister), pushing her out of their lives.

This was hard for Gerald.  He loved his mom.  He needed his mom.  But he had no choice in the matter.  He was just a small boy.

Gerald doesn’t complain about the years with his grandparents.  They kept food in his stomach and a roof over his head.  And although his grandfather was strict, he cared for him well.  It wasn’t enough for Gerald.  This young boy missed his mom terribly.  So at the age of 9, he ran away to find her.

From that time on, Gerald found himself in and out of the foster care system.  Sometimes he was placed with families, other times in the government orphanage.  He even had a short stay with his mom.  But she is an alcoholic and could not care for him.  He always landed right back in foster care.

By the age of 13, Gerald took off running.  Running from the system.  Running from the pain.  Running from Knysna.  He ended up in a town called Sedgefield about a 30 minute drive from Knysna.  There he came across some boys he knew from the orphanage and joined them sleeping on the streets.  Their only means of survival was to steal.  Mostly food.  They just needed to eat.  It was a horrible life.  But it was his life now.  Then Gerald made the mistake of robbing the wrong man one day.  A man who was known for beating kids to death if they stole from him.  When Gerald realized this, he ran.  He ran all the way back to Knysna in fear of his life.

Some of his story gets a little foggy.  I say this because Gerald’s coping mechanism was to escape his life by smoking marijuana and mandrax.  He does know that in 2004 he somehow ended up in a school for wayward boys.  And sometime in 2005 he was back living on the streets in Knysna.  A 15-year old boy, sleeping in a cardboard box in the taxi rank in town.  It breaks my heart when I stop here and remember what my boys were doing at 15… attending a good high school, playing on sports teams, working a part-time job, learning to drive, and much more.  Certainly not sleeping in a cardboard box and wondering whether or not they will have food to eat.

One day while hanging out in the taxi rank, a coloured woman (Blanche) recognized him from when he lived in the orphanage.  She was a Christian woman and used to lead Bible Studies there.  She opened up her home to Gerald and he lived with her family for about 1-1/2 years.  He was back in school, had a roof over his head and food in his stomach.  Yet, because he couldn’t understand the love this family was offering to him, he ran.

He traveled all the way to Capetown this time (a 5-hour drive away).  There he slept on the streets.  He was a beggar and a thief.  He started to learn about prison number gangs, the 26s, 27s and 28s.  He soon aspired to be part of one.

Meanwhile, back home in Knysna, Blanche had different plans for Gerald’s life.  She tracked him down in Capetown and brought him back to live with her family in Knysna again.  It didn’t last.  Gerald soon ran back to the streets.

“Why?” I asked Gerald.  “Why would you throw such a great opportunity away?  A bed, food, education, a family?”  He tried to explain it to me.  What he came up with is that he didn’t understand nor could he accept their love.  He wasn’t worthy of it.  And he feared disappointing them.

If it was possible, this time on the streets was rougher.  Gerald met people that had been in the Numbers Gangs in prison and he so wanted to belong to the group with them.  This required certain things.  One of which was to steal for them.  Well, that was no big deal.  He has stolen many times before.  But this time was different.  It wasn’t for food.  It wasn’t for survival.  It was for acceptance.  Acceptance into a gang.  And there just seemed to be a danger about it this time that he couldn’t shake.  He did it anyway.  And he was right.  The police showed up and he and his cousin/brother ran.  Both went different directions.  Gerald picked the wrong way.  He was caught and put into the police car.  As the police drove him around to the other side of the house, Gerald was horrified.  There he saw his cousin/brother.  Hanging on the spiked fence.  Dead.  It appeared that he slipped when climbing the fence and was pierced in through his rib cage and out through his neck.  A tragic, horrific site Gerald will never forget.

And so it began.  At age 16, Gerald was sentenced to 5 years at a juvenile detention center.  Not a place of rehabilitation.  Not even close.  This was the place he learned more about gangs.  More about crime.  More about drugs.  When he was released, he continued on a path of crime.

Gerald didn’t share all of his criminal activity with me, but I know he landed himself right back in prison for robbery.  Prison this time.  Not juvenile detention.  Prison, home of the Numbers Gangs! 

In South Africa, numbers gangs control the prison populations.  Once prisoners are sentenced by the South African Department of Corrections (DOC), they are classified into 3 different categories. These categories are either economic offense, sexual offence or a crime of violence. This determines what gang they will join upon arrival. The 26s are thieves, responsible for gambling, smuggling and accruing wealth in general. The 27s are the guardians of gang law, murderers.  And the 28s are the most senior gang, the warriors.  They accrue wifies within the prison population by raping new prisoners.  They are also in charge of the flow of food supply.  There isn’t a prison in South Africa without numbers gangs.  It is a nationwide brotherhood.  New prisoners are recruited upon entrance.

Gerald worked his way up the ranks of the 26s, eventually becoming a Judge.  This is a high ranking officer who decides the fate of those that break the rules.   Consequences can range from beatings, to rape, to death.  Even though Gerald was willing to tell me his rank in the 26s, he would not disclose what it took to move up in rank.  Nor would he share the many secrets held by each gang.  Members that betray the gang and share the secrets are not safe in any South African prison (or outside). The secretive nature of the gang makes their system of communicating to other prisons unknown. This is what makes them the most dangerous prison gang in the world.

A thug.  A gangster.  Gerald was released from prison in April of 2017 (now 27-years old).  People in the township knew who he was and “feared” him.  He was a high ranking officer in the 26s.  Non-ranking members of the 28s in the township feared he would steal their recruits because of his rank.  This led to an attempt on Gerald’s life.  In November 2017, a “soldier” of the 28s stabbed Gerald with a knife.  Left him to die.  And he should have.  It was plunged 2 inches deep into his heart.

God had other plans for our friend.  Gerald spent weeks in the hospital trying to survive and then recuperate.  Doctors convened trying to decide if his body could handle heart surgery.  They decided it couldn’t.  Instead, they inserted a drain and  after a month’s stay, Gerald was sent home.

Still bandaged up, he went back to his old way of life.  A thief.  This time, this theft, changed his life forever…

Gerald stole a phone from a younger boy (Danville) in the township. What do you know?  It was the wrong boy to steal from.  After the robbery, Danville was riding in the car with our friend Chris (a missionary now living in Knysna) and discretely pointed Gerald out to him.  Much to Danville’s horror,  Chris stopped the car to confront Gerald.  This was Gerald.  Judge of the 26s.  I’m guessing Danville slid down in his seat, out of site.  Well, funny thing.. not only did Chris get the phone back, but he took time to share something with Gerald that would change his life forever.  He shared Christ.

Hungry to hear more, Gerald met with Chris the following day.   He heard that his life matters.  He is highly valued.  God loves him so much, that he sent his son to die on the cross for him.  Gerald’s heart was finally healed, spiritually.  He accepted Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior.  And in February, Kurt and I had the privilege of watching Gerald publicly profess Christ at his baptism.

I wish I could say Gerald’s life is easier now.  It isn’t.  He still lives in a run down shack that costs about $25 U.S. per month to rent.  His long time girlfriend broke up with him.  His mother is still an alcoholic and losing her eye site to cataracts.  

What I can say is that his life is better.  He focuses on what he does have.  He has a brand new job at a glass company (his very first job ever).  He has a new family in Christ.  He has joy.  Most of all he has Christ!

A true story of God’s redeeming love.

Our God is an awesome God! ~ Tracy Cooper