Eunice Ndlovu is the sole provider for her household.

“I have four children and twelve grandchildren living with me!", Ndlovu said with a warm smile. “Somebody must feed them, and I [would] do anything for my babies!"

She hasn’t seen the fathers of her children in a very long time. Remarkably, she tries her utmost to mask any contempt or resentment she may be harbouring when she speaks of them: “I don’t know with those ones." she said abruptly; the only clue to her true feelings being the glaze of sorrow suddenly apparent in her eyes.

The journey from her home in Umlazi to Westville is a treacherous one, involving catching a bus and two taxis, for a total cost of R30 per day. “It’s hard to find work these days," continued Ndlovu, “because I’m very old and people haven’t got money where I come from." For someone with little choice but to spend one and a half hours traveling to work in the richer suburban areas, she carries her burden with an admirable sense of duty and importance.

“All I want is to help my family." she said, grinning from ear to ear.

Ndlovu is 60 years old, and the domestic servant for a family of four, who speak of her with the utmost respect. “Eunice has always done her job well. She’s on time every morning, has never stolen from us and she’s great with our kids" said James Fuller, her Westville employer. “After ten years of having her work for us I’ve developed a strong bond with her. She’s been a bit of a surrogate mother to my kids, while my wife Jane has been pursuing her career."

However, the money Ndlovu takes home in her weekly wages is scarcely enough to cover the expense of running her household. After she deducts travel expenses from her R100 daily wage, she is left with R70 in her pocket for an eight hour day. When questioned about this, Ndlovu’s attitude was saddening. “I can’t do anything now. There are many people who work for small amount. If I ask for more, there will be someone to take my job. My boss, he is very good to me" she said softly. “The government will help me and my family, and give us a nice house one day. It won’t be a long time now." she continued, with inspiring optimism.

A house is something her extended family is in dire need of. Section E, Umlazi is a daily struggle with many hundreds of people living in close confines without access to any water, electricity or sanitation. Her entire family co-exists in what can best be described as a shack, with only two rooms and precious little privacy.

Today she’s used most of her wages to buy a 5 litre tin of oil and some other essentials. She carries them in a packet balanced precariously on her head in the traditional Zulu way. “My arms are too tired, so I put these things up here." she explained gesturing towards the bag on her head.

To the unfamiliar observer, it looks like her goods may fall at any second; her day’s work shattering onto the road below. However, she assures me it’s never happened. As Eunice begins her afternoon walk back to the bus stop, it becomes clear why she worked through her lunch break today, and why the goods will never fall. Her small, scuffling steps will carry her at less than snail’s pace to the nearest taxi rank, adding an extra hour onto her journey.