Johannesburg - Danny Monyatsi Letlhage walks tall. Oops, maybe he cannot walk because he is a dead man – and dead men, need we say, do not walk. Neither do they talk.

But he speaks to us, in the flesh, and tells the tale of how a system error at Home Affairs declaring him dead has wrecked his life. According to Home Affairs records, Letlhage died in 2009.

His life ever since has been one of constant struggle and hardship: “I cannot renew my driving licence,” he says.

He makes his living by driving hearses at a local funeral parlour in Kagiso, west of Joburg. This is a menial job for a man who says: “I have an education. I should not be doing that kind of work.”

When he found out he was “a dead man” 14 years ago, he first got excited and thought the gods were answering his prayers. “I went to find out why my loan repayment had stopped at the bank,” he says. Upon further inquiry, he was told his R40 000 loan was covered by insurance as he was deceased.

“I went home and thought all was well,” he says, looking back. But everything would prove to be not honky-dory. After working for a total of 13 years for several companies, he wanted to claim his unemployment insurance fund (UIF). That’s when it occurred to him that being dead - and alive - was no fun.

“I don’t exist,” he says, ruefully.

Letlhage walks around today with an official letter from Home Affairs that avers: “This is to confirm that the above-named person was allegedly reported as deceased. However, after a thorough investigation and positive proof that the applicant is the holder of this identity number, the death particulars in respect of the above-named person have been cancelled from the computerised register of the department.”

The officialese that says “a thorough investigation and a positive proof” would be laughable were it not that a grown man’s life has been brought to a halt by an official mistake.

It pains him that he is not bankable. “I cannot do anything official.”

Conversation breaks as emotions get the better of him. But what he says between sobs is that “I am not alive, I want to live again”.

“I am renting an RDP house,” he says, regaining his composure. “I could easily have afforded my own house.”

The foremost thought in his head is: “What becomes of my children when I’m gone? Where do my UIF benefits go to?”

He has lost count of the number of times he’s been at the Home Affairs offices in Mogale City, his hometown: “They even know me by name. I do not stand in queues. But they are talking to a ghost, according to their records.”

It is not easy to speak to Letlhage as he sobs constantly. But a curious question remains: who is the medical examiner who signed off on his “death certificate” declaring that he succumbed to “natural causes”?

“I am not dead. I am alive.”

Attempts to get an official comment from Home Affairs proved unsuccessful. All a living man wants is to be recognised as such “so that I can look after my children”.

The Sunday Independent has committed Letlhage to see to the successful resolution of his matter.