South Africa mends safety net for elderly
Life after apartheid was supposed to be better for South Africa's elders, most of whom scrape by on $67 a month.
JOHANNESBURG, SOUTH AFRICA
Once a month, old women in brightly patterned dresses begin gathering outside a government building in Soweto with the first rays of the sun. Some will wait for hours to collect their pensions in what has become a regular, if unpleasant, ritual for three-quarters of South Africa's elderly.
Joanna Hadebe, a former maid, is typical of Soweto pensioners. Walking with a cane, and partially blind, she is still the breadwinner in her family. Both of her grown daughters are unemployed, and Mrs. Hadebe's pension of 540 rand, or $67, is all she has to feed, clothe, and shelter her family of five for a month.
"It's never enough when you pay for everything," Hadebe says, tallying up the month's expenses: She owes $6.50 to a friend who lent her money last month, $12 for the gas bill, $8 for rent. She worries that once again, her family will spend the last days of the month hungry.
Life in the new South Africa was supposed to be better for the country's elderly, many of whom bore the brunt of apartheid in their youth. But AIDS, unemployment, a falling rand, and declining foreign investment have hit the country's elders hard, leaving many with the responsibility of providing for their families long after such burdens should have been passed on to younger generations.
"You can't just leave your children without anything to eat," says Jabuleli Thambekwayo, who considers herself blessed: unlike her neighbors, she has no family to support. "The pension is so small, but they have to support their families. Not because they want to, but because there is no work in South Africa."
Intended to be a limited poverty relief program for the aged, the pensions system in South Africa has turned into a social welfare program relied on by young and old alike.
Like Hadebe, many seniors support children who are among the 37 percent of South Africans unemployed. Others, like Anna Maseloane, have been left to care for grandchildren after watching their children die of AIDS.