Faith, 61 - Domestic Worker

“I was born in Queenstown in the Eastern Cape. There were 11 children in my family. My father worked as a miner to support us. Times were tough, but we were happy. We were always laughing, doing things together. Being with my siblings made life full. We lived by the spirit of Ubuntu. We were raised to help each other, to carry each other. ‘Umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu’ – ‘I am who I am because of others.’ That’s Ubuntu. That’s how we were raised.

I did manage to complete matric. I’ve always dreamed of becoming a teacher. I didn’t want to just do nothing and have babies like some of the girls around me. I wanted something different. I wanted school, but that chance never came. Financially, we just could not afford to go study.

I was 19 when I came to Johannesburg to join my sister. She was working as a domestic worker. I started with part-time cleaning jobs and, after 6 years, I started working full-time for a family — and I never left. ‘15 December 1989.’ That was when I started working for them. My son was four months old. That date changed my life.

I’ve been here for 36 years now. This family, they are more than just my employers — they are family. They’ve given me everything.”

They helped with my children’s school fees, with their clothes, with many things. They even gave me a home to live in without rent. They’re the reason I survived.

Life has always been a struggle. I raised both of my sons as a single mother. My greatest pride is that both my children completed their education. Even in my very large family, not one did get a degree. My eldest, Lance, finished a BCom degree and got a job working as a bank manager. But it wasn’t long before he died in a car accident. He was only 25 years old. That was the hardest thing I’ve ever lived through. It’s a pain I suffer with every day. All of my siblings have also passed away now. There’s no one left.

There have been many times where I wanted to give up, but I must keep going. I don’t want to retire. If I sit and do nothing, I will get sick. Work is like exercise. It keeps me going. I would love to go home someday – to live the simple life. But when I get there, I cry. It’s too painful for me. It’s empty. There are too many memories. For now, I am happy that I am still able to wake up and go to work every day.”