Borneo Herald brings a story of Jinu Losukin, 39, a homeless Ranau Dusun in Kuala Lumpur

Jinu bin Losukin @Raju Homeless, odd-jobs worker, 39, Kuala Lumpur

In our February State of the Vision Issue, we asked the man on the street, from all walks of life, what they feel about the state of our country. Renowned journalist and documentarian Danny Lim travelled across Malaysia to speak to friends, strangers and demographics we would normally never sit and have a chat with. We present two extremes from this piece: Raju, a homeless man living in KL, and Dr Vincent Chian, an educator who is working to improve schools in Malaysia.

Walking along the concrete embankments of the Klang River in Kuala Lumpur (as one does) I stumbled upon the riverside-dwelling segment of KL's homeless community. Here, about 15 feet below street level you get all the concrete sights and cacophonous sounds of the big city but none of the crowds and traffic, like an abandoned city with piped-in soundtrack. Not to mention a blend of aromas that range from the nostril-busting ammonia-laden sewerage to fetid dead fish.

At one of the less odious stretches, under a bridge that linked Bulatan Kinabalu with the Kuala Lumpur Railway Station, were a bunch of riverside dwellers that were neither addicted to fishing nor heroin. There was a young Indonesian couple cuddling together on cardboard, eyeing me warily from behind their sarong blanket. A man from Hulu Langat, dressed like he had a modest office day-job smiled at me but declined extensive conversation. There was Din, the well-built glue-sniffing labourer who chatted incessantly and repetitively, hinting of autism. And then there was Raju.

His grandmother gave him the nickname of Raju, for reasons he cannot remember why. His real name is Jinu bin Losukin. Raju is a 39-year-old Kadazan Christian from Ranau, Sabah. "It's quite common for Sabahan Christians to have 'bin' to their names." Raju is the youngest of 12 children, seven of whom died before he was born, from what he suspects to be malnutrition. At various times, he's been a rainforest guide, a goat-herder, a masseur, a cook, a truck driver, labourer, mechanic, guitar-playing busker and glass-eating street performer.

He first came to KL to save his son—he has left and returned to the city many times since the 1990s, but he's hazy on details. "I had five children with my (now separated) wife, all sons. One of them had a heart problem, and I brought him to KL to get treatment from the National Heart Institute. Along the way I had some problems with my wife and we separated."

His current girlfriend, the 31-year-old KL-ite Rozeah fills in the blanks: "His wife ran away with another man, and took the kids with her. Raju went crazy and went back into his wandering mood." Rozeah herself was a runaway from her family. "Most of the people are here because of family problems. They've either been kicked out of home, or left themselves." Rozeah, new to this kind of life, turns fondly to Raju. "He's very friendly, everyone here knows him and likes him," she coos. " I'm often amazed by what he can do. Once he caught a snake with his bare hands that was slithering up from the river."

The perils of riverside living are many. Flash floods have swept away sleeping victims in its torrential tide. "People have been bitten by snakes and scorpions," says Raju. "Even motorcycles have flown off the flyovers and crashed near where we sleep!"

Raju however is not one to grumble much about the hardships they face. "It's all okay," he says resolutely. "There are no big problems, we can survive." While Raju ekes out a meagre living with odd jobs, Rozeah has done service work manning the counters at shopping centres, and fast food restaurants. Raju can earn RM50 a day, cash-in-hand from hauling goods for various businesses, but the work is inconsistent. "Living here by the river, I actually think a lot about the future," Rozeah says. "We sit here all day when there's no work, and go hungry if there's no food. It's bad. You end up worrying a lot. That's why I like to do work, I keep myself busy and forget my troubles." Can they have a family? "We can but we have to take it slow, we have to build a solid foundation if we want children." I turn to Raju. "I don't know what the future will be," he says slowly, imbibing in a bag of nefarious substance. "We'll see."