Princess Madikizela laughs without joy: “R10? No that’s too little,” she says of Finance Minister Trevor Manuel’s budget speech announcement of an increase in the child-support grant to R200 — her tone one of dismissive resignation rather than disbelief.
Madikizela (34), a domestic worker and single mother with four young mouths to feed, doesn’t believe the combined extra R30 a month she will be receiving from her child-support grants will make much difference to her family’s situation.
“I earn R700 a month and with the grant I have R1Â 300 to pay my rent [R250 for a one-room mjondolo in a nearby settlement in Bottlebrush] buy food, clothes, and, at the beginning of the year, it is worse with school for my children,” she says.
Her two eldest children, Asanda and Amanda, are 14 and 13 years old, respectively and Madikizela is worried about what will happen in the next two years when their age disqualifies her from receiving the child support grant.
Madikizela’s youngest, one-year-old Andiswela, is adopted: a stranger abandoned the one-month old baby at her shack last year and the application for a foster-care grant is still being processed: “I made an application in March and they said I must wait, I’m waiting,” she says, feeling the extra R620 foster-care grant will bring some relief.
Nestled on a grassy hill between council flats and working class homes in Crossmoor in Chatsworth are 13 shacks. There used to be almost 60, until the eThekwini Municipality hired private security guards to demolish them last year. The 13 remain because the community managed to get a court interdict to prevent further demolition — the charred remains and debris of former shacks still lie all around.
There are almost 300 people in this community, living eight to 10 in a shack, in the stairwells of nearby flats and under the sky.
The treasury has pledged R5-billion more for the delivery of free basic services and a further R7,8-billion for public transport, water and other municipal infrastructure, but will it filter down to Crossmoor?
“We appealed to the municipality’s humanitarian side, we asked for our basic rights: water, sanitation and electricity and they refused, because the court case is still ongoing. We know there is money but what we don’t know is why they only want to build stadiums,” says Premi Pillay (32).
Pillay says the community relies on water donations, on the goodwill of people in neighbouring flats to bathe and they have hired one portable toilet, which is cleaned once a week: “We rent the toilet for R570 a month, but we are already in arrears,” she says.
Rosalyn Nthobeni (54), legs swollen and prone to bleeding, supports her three children, including two unemployed twentysomethings, with her disability grant, now increased to R870 a month: “R50 more is not enough, I pay R250 rent for my one-room shack, if we had an unemployment grant it would help feed my children and myself,” says Nthobeni, who believes she is still better off than when she was working as a domestic and earning R200 a month, four years ago.
The property boom is negatively affecting the poorest of the poor. Even in the mjondolos in Chatsworth, rent has become exorbitant: one-room shacks average R250 a month, single-rooms in flats and houses are rented out at anywhere between R700 and R1Â 300 excluding electricity and water.
Premi Chinsamy (42) and her husband, Alan (47), each draw disability grants and with most of the money going on rent (R700 for a one-room basement, excluding utilities).
Premi says she won’t feel the extra R50 a month increase. But the new compulsory social security tax currently under discussion may have alleviated some of her financial woes: “We had insurance, but it all lapsed when my husband fell ill three years ago. He has sugar [diabetes], pressure [high blood pressure] and heart [angina or a heart attack] and is going for a bypass in March,” says Chinsamy, who was employed as a dispatch operator earning R600 a week before she was medically bordered four years ago.
For Premi Pillay, her struggle is for a roof over her head. With a further R2,7-billion allocated for housing, does she believe she will be any closer to her dream?
“This area was zoned for housing in last year’s municipal budget, where are the houses? There is so much allocated for housing, but what are they doing with that money? There is no housing list, apparently that was scrapped. They told me there are no more houses for Indians and before the last [municipal] elections they said if we voted ANC they will give us houses,” says Pillay.
Pillay’s shack was demolished last year, and she and her family currently share a shack with another family: “There are eight of us living there and sometimes we have to sleep sitting up,” she says.
Pillay’s husband, Suren (43) earns R1Â 500 a month working in a chemical company. If he works overtime, his wages increase to R2Â 000. Will having to not pay income tax alleviate the financial burden: “Yes, R2Â 000 is not much if you have two eating children,” says Pillay. The community here either cook outside on the open fire, or occasionally get their meals prepared at nearby flats.
“Trevor Manuel gives them the money, but the municipality would rather see us suffer in the streets than going into a house,” says a shackless Tasneem Maurera (25), clutching her one-year-old baby, Ishaan, to her chest.