This blog tracks 3 podcasts where firstly I tell my story of how I came to pay a living wage, this is followed by Loice Chaza telling the story of how it impacted her life. Loice worked for us as a domestic worker for several years. After she stopped working for us, she worked for BeanThere Coffee Company who also pay a living wage. BeanThere made a decision to pay a living wage several years ago after reading this blog. Jonathan Robinson in the third podcast tells his journey of how they as a company came to pay a living wage and have come to answer the question what does it mean to live justly. 23 Feb The Wage to Live CLIFFCENTRAL.COM | THE MA(I)DE SESSIONS — Mbali Njomane and Tuliza Sindi Nigel "the white guy they don't want you to know about" Branken discusses how he got to pay a living wage, rather than the minimum wage to his then domestic worker, Loice. He helps us understand how this is no small feat, by tying into what we've come to know as our very networked economic machine. 19 Oct The Other Side of the CoinCLIFFCENTRAL.COM | THE MA(I)DE SESSIONS Loice Chaza has been able to move from one living wage to another. Hear how she used to hustle before she earned a reasonable wage and what her dreams look like now that she has some financial breathing room. Whilst last week's show walked us through how to implement a living wage, this week's show reveals the impact that it has on the receiver. 12 Oct Being Fair There CLIFFCENTRAL.COM | THE MA(I)DE SESSIONS Founder of one of Johannesburg's most beloved coffee companies, Jonathan Robinson, is in studio to tell us how he got his 40-strong staff body onto living wages. We get his take and approach on equity, bonuses, overtime, training and more.
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Podcast 1 - Tuliza and Mbali discuss the poem Robert Botha is a middle-aged white South African male who wrote a poem about a special person, probably a domestic worker, standing outside a gate in time. Don't miss his pearls of wisdom on identity, connection, servanthood, and the power of silence. Enlightened doesn't even cut it! Podcast 2 - A follow up with the poet himself Robert Botha is a middle-aged white South African male who wrote a poem about a special person, probably a domestic worker, standing outside a gate in time. Don't miss his pearls of wisdom on identity, connection, servanthood, and the power of silence. Enlightened doesn't even cut it! Also - sign up or follow this podcast - it is a source of amazing stories and gives insight into the life of domestic workers
As a little side note, Robert Botha is the founder of the James 1:27 trust who administer our finances. You can read more about him here. You can read the poem on his blog here... Deeply stirred by this poem… oh how we need folk to move into neighbourhoods like Hillbrow all over the world… it is long but worth a read Light in the Asphalt Jungle - Written by Vincent Harding I I had a dream. And I saw a city, A city that rose up out of the crust of the earth. And it’s streets were paved with asphalt, And a river of dirty water ran down along it’s curbs. It was a city And its people knew no hope. They were chased and herded from place to place by the churning jaws of bulldozers. They were closed up in the anonymous cubicles of great brick prisons called housing projects. They were forced out of work by the fearsome machines and computers, And by the sparseness of their learning. They were torn into many pieces by the hostile angers of racial fears and guilt and prejudice. Their workers were exploited. Their children and teen-agers had no parks to play in. No pools to swim in, No space in crowded rooms to learn in, No hopes to dream in, And the people knew no hope. Their bosses underpaid them. Their landlords overcharged them. Their churches deserted them. And all of life in the city seemed dark and wild, like a jungle, A jungle lined with asphalt. And the people sat in darkness II I had a dream, And I saw a city, A city clothed in neon-lighted darkness. And I heard people talking. And I looked at them. Across their chests in large, golden letters-written by their own hands- Across their chests were written the words: “I am a Christian.” And the Christians looked at the city and said; “How terrible…How terrible…How terrible.” And the Christians looked at the city and said: “That is no place to live, But some of our people have wandered there, And we must go and rescue them. And we must go and gather them, like huddled sheep into a fold; And we will call it a City Church.” So they built their church. And the people came, And they walked past all the weary, broken, exploited, dying men who lined the city’s streets. Year after year they walked past, Wearing their signs: “I am a Christian.” Then one day the people in the church said: “This neighborhood is too bad for good Christians. Let us go to the suburbs where God dwells, and build a church there. And one by one they walked away, past all the weary, broken, exploited, dying people. They walked fast. And did not hear a voice that said: “…the least of these…the least of these…” And they walked by, and they went out, and they built a church. The church was high and lifted up, and it even had a cross. But the church was hollow, And the people were hollow, And their hearts were hard as the asphalt streets of the jungle. III I had a dream. And I saw a city, A city clothed in bright and gaudy darkness. And I saw more people with signs across their chest. And they were Christians too. And I heard them say: “How terrible…how terrible…how terrible. The city is filled with sinners: To save sinners, To save sinners. But they are so unlike us, So bad, So dark, So poor, So strange, But we are supposed to save them… To save them, To save them.” And one person said: “Can’t we save them without going where they are?” And they worked to find a way to save and be safe at the same time. Meanwhile, I saw them build a church, And they called it a Mission, A City Mission: And all the children came by to see what this was. And the city missionaries who had been sent to save them gathered them in. So easy to work with children, they said, And they are so safe, so safe. And week after week they saved the children (Saved them from getting in their parent’s way on Sunday morning). And in the dream the City Missionaries looked like Pied Pipers, with their long row of children stretched out behind them, And the parents wondered in Christianity was only for children. And when the missionaries finally came to see them, and refused to sit in their broken chair, and kept looking at the plaster falling, and used a thousand words that had no meaning, and talked about rescuing them from hell while they were freezing in the apartment, and asked them if they were saved, and walked out into their shiny care, and drove off to their nice, safe neighborhood- When that happened, the parents knew; This version of Christianity had no light for their jungle. Then, soon, the children saw too; it was all a children’s game; And when they became old enough they got horns of their own, And blew them high and loud, And marched off sneering, swearing, into the darkness. IV I had a dream, And I saw the Christians in the dark city, And I heard them say: “We need a revival to save these kinds of people.” And they rented the auditorium, And they called in the expert revivalist, And every night all the Christians came, and heard all the old, unintelligible, comfortable words, and sang all the old assuring songs, and went through all the old motions when the call was made. Meanwhile, on the outside, All the other people waited impatiently in the darkness for the Christians to come out, and let the basketball game begin. V I had a dream. And I saw Christians with guilty consciences, And I heard them say: “What shall we do? What shall we do? What shall we do? These people want to come to OUR church, To OUR church.” And someone said: “Let’s build a church for THEM, For THEM, They like to be with each other anyway.” And they started the church, And the people walked in. And for a while, as heads were bowed in prayer, they did not know. But then, the prayers ended, And they people looked up, and looked around, And saw that every face was THEIR face, THEIR face, And every color was THEIR color, THEIR color. And they stood up, and shouted loudly within themselves: “Let me out of this ghetto, this pious, guilt-built ghetto.” And they walked out into the darkness, And the darkness seemed darker than ever before, And the good Christians looked, and said, “These people just don’t appreciate what WE do for THEM.” VI And just as the night seemed darkest, I had another dream. I dreamed that I saw young people walking, Walking into the heart of the city, into the depths of the darkness. They had no signs, except their lives. And they walked into the heart of the darkness and said: “Let us live here, and work for light.” They said, “Let us live here and help the rootless find a root for their lives. Let us live here, and help the nameless find their names.” They said, “Let us live here and walk with the jobless until they find work. Let us live here, and sit in the landlord’s office until he gives more heat and charges less rent.” They said, “Let us live here, and throw open the doors of this deserted church to all the people of every race and class; Let us work with them to find the reconciliation God has brought.” And they said, “Let us walk the asphalt streets with the young people, sharing their lives, learning their language, playing their sidewalk, backyard games, knowing the agonies of their isolation.” And they said, “Let us live here, and minister to as many men as God gives us grace, Let us live here, And die here, with out brothers of the jungle, Sharing their apartments and their plans.” And the people saw them, And someone asked who they were, A few really knew- They had no signs- But someone said he thought they might be Christians, And this was hard to believe, but the people smiled; And a little light began to shine in the heart of the asphalt jungle. VII Then in my dream I saw young people, And I saw the young men and women Those who worked in the city called Chicago, Cleveland [Johannesburg], Washington [Bangkok], Atlanta [Nairobi], And they were weary, And the job was more than they could bear alone, And I saw them turn, turn and look for help, And I heard them call: “Come and help us, Come and share this joyful agony, joyful agony, Come as brothers in the task, Come and live and work with us, Teachers for the crowded schools, Doctors for the overflowing clinics, Social workers for the fragmented families, Nurses for the bulging wards, Pastors for the yearning flocks, Workers for the fighting gangs, Christians. Christians who will come and live here, Here in the heart of the darkness, Who will live here and love here that a light might shine for all. Come.” I heard them call, And I saw the good Christians across the country, And their answers tore out my heart. Some said, “There isn’t enough money there.” Some said, “It’s too bad there. I couldn’t raise children.” Some said, “I’m going into foreign missions, where things don’t seem so dark.” Some said, “The suburbs are so nice.” Some said, “But I like it here on the farm.” Some said, Some said… And one by one they turned their backs and began to walk away. At this moment my dream was shattered by the sound of a great and mighty whisper, almost a pleading sound; And a voice said: “Come, help me, for I am hungry in the darkness.” And a voice said: “Come, help me, for I am thirsty in the darkness.” And a voice said: “Come, help me, for I am a stranger in this asphalt jungle.” And a voice said, “Come, help me, for I have been stripped naked, naked of all legal rights and protection of the law, simply because I am black in the darkness.” And a voice said: “Come, help me, for my heart is sick with hopelessness and fear in the darkness.” And a voice said: “Come, live with me in the prison of my segregated community, and we will break down the walls together.” And the voices were many, And the voice was one, And the Christians knew whose Voice it was. And they turned, And their faces were etched with the agonies of decisions. And the dream ended. But the voice remains, And the choice remain, And the city still yearns for light. And the King who lives with the least of his brothers and sisters in the asphalt jungle… Yearns for us So it is now official that the Branken family are full time in our community work. The model we are using to fund our work is mainly through the contribution of friends. At the moment, we are still quite short of our monthly budget and so would really value you considering a monthly contribution to our work or a once off financial contribution to get us started.
Here are the details of how you can contribute. 4 years ago today on the 15th July 2012... As we were arriving home from church, about a block away from our home, there was a large crowd gathering. I got Trish to drop me off and went to see what was happening. I noticed that a man was standing on the 8th floor ledge of a building. The windows behind him to gain access back into the building were closed. People were just standing around watching and taking pictures with their cell phones. I phoned the emergency services and first spoke to the fire brigade who said "what can we do?". When I said "get out here and help the man", they put the phone down. I then spoke to the police. At this point the crowd had started shouting at the man... some even encouraging him to jump. The police then also put the phone down as they could not hear me over the crowd. I then tried them again and this time they agreed to come through but they could not tell me how long they would take. I realized I needed to intervene before the man jumped. I went to some security guards, told them I was a social worker and asked them to come with me. We ran up the 8 flights of stairs and realized that he was on the ledge outside a locked flat. The flat tenant was not there so we broke the security gate and door of the flat and went inside. I spoke to the man from a distance and then got closer to him. I tried to keep him calm and just kept sharing love with him. He had a large gash in his neck and he told me some people were trying to murder him and that he wanted to tell his story to the court. I told him I would help him to tell his story. About 20 minutes in to talking to him, the police arrived - they told me that they did not have a negotiator nearby and asked me to keep talking to the man. I shared with him God's love. We spoke for over an hour and I ended up praying with him. He was encouraged and even asked me to look him up on Facebook while he was on the ledge. As I looked at his profile on my blackberry, he seemed to relax and agreed to come in. He then came in through the window to the cheers of the crowd below. As I walked with him to the ambulance most of the, by now massive crowd cheered in excitement, I could not believe, however, what other people were saying to him. They shouted at him saying that he was stupid to try to take his life and swore at him and generally insulted him. All the time I held the man. In the ambulance, the very caring emergency staff treated his neck and then we took him to check his wounds at the emergency unit at the Hillbrow clinic. Some of his family members were there and they agreed to stay with him. The doctor I spoke to said that she would refer him to the hospital and admit him as she was concerned he would try to take his life again. I then left him in the care of the hospital staff and his family. About 2 1/2 hours later, I received a call from a family member to say he had run away from the hospital and was threatening to jump again. A friend, Sifiso, and I rushed back to the building, but we were too late, he had jumped. His body was still breathing and so we touched him and spoke loving words and his life ebbed away. We spent a little while comforting his father and brother who were in disbelief about the events and then we returned home. I am deeply saddened by all that happened today, but know that he experienced some love during all the trauma. These are difficult times with few workers to care for the hurting and broken in this city. Rest well Delight Ndlovu!
We went out onto the streets on 14 July to stand in solidarity with the people of Zimbabwe as they marched to the embassy demanding change in the country. I have never been to a march with so much emotions. It felt as if people were worn down after so many decades of corruption and abuse of power. The cries of people in this video reminded me of many of the biblical cries of the Egyptians in exile and Moses crying out... "Let my people go!"
Just a few days before I spoke to Advocate Gabriel Shumba to ask what we could all do to support Zimbabweans at this time. Here is the interview with him where he gives some background to some of the human rights abuses and crimes against humanity in his country and calls for international solidarity.
This logo designed by Josiah Wedgewood in 1787 was designed for a UK based slavery abolitionist NGO. "Am I not a man and a brother" then became a catchphrase for the movement to end slavery in both the UK and America. It calls us to recognize the humanity of those who were enslaved, many of whom were from Africa. This work for dignity is rooted in the belief that human beings are created in the image of God and as such have infinite worth. When we dehumanize people and treat "them" as "the other", it allows us to diminish the value of precious image bearers of God and treat them in ways that fail to recognize us and the image of God in them. When we say#BlackLivesMatter in the USA, we are joining in this historical call to affirm the humanity of #BlackLives, many of whom are the descendants of those who were victims of the dehumanizing slave trade. We are joining the centuries long struggle and calling for the treatment of all people as valuable image bearers of God. We are saying that the systemic racism that allows dehumanization, prejudice, stereotyping and all the abhorrent abusive and violent acts that follow must end because #BlackLivesMatter... they did in 1787 and they do now in 2016! #BlackLivesMatter!!! A "computer to each home" was started by my buddy Benjamin van Zyl... The idea he had was to refurbish second hand (but not e-waste/ too old) computers and get them into as many homes in our neighborhood as possible. Today we handed out 11 computers to neighbours who have been attending our computer course... The computers were refurbished by another neighbor. Payment was made by a commitment to #PayItForward About 6 years ago (in 2010), our domestic worker came to us and asked for time off to take her child to the dentist. I decided to go with her to the visit. The child's teeth were rotten and the dentist asked "Why is your child not brushing her teeth?", To which our domestic worker devastatingly replied "I can't afford a toothbrush!". At the time, we were paying our domestic worker R3500 per month. We thought this was not only fair but actually a high wage as our friends and neighbours were paying on average R2000 per month. At the same time I had been working with a group of blind and disabled Zimbabwean illegal immigrants and refugees. A friend, who works in marketing, approached me and explained that a client of his required 10,000 scarves to be made for a marketing campaign. The client was prepared to pay R30 for the labour component of each scarf. He had worked out that to knit a single scarf would take approximately 4 hours. This meant that a person could knit two scarves in one day and be paid R60 for the day's labour. This seemed very low. I said to my friend that I would go home and pray about it. I searched through the Scriptures, looking in the concordance for words like wage, labour, work, worker, employer and exploitation. What I discovered was eye opening and left me deeply convicted. Throughout Scripture, the onus for setting wages is the responsibility of the employer and Scripture repeatedly warns against those who exploit workers. One Scripture which stood out to me was Isaiah 58. The context for this text is set in verse 3, which says "you live with your pleasures while you exploit your workers". The text then goes on to talk about five areas:
I decided to phone my marketing friend and tell him that I would not be involved in providing exploitative work and I resolved to immediately try to put this wage issue right with my domestic worker. To do this, I said to my domestic worker that I would cover all of her living expenses for the next three months. I also realised that this had to include her family. In her case she had a working husband and two children ages 6 and 14. I sat with her and worked out how much she needed in each of these five areas:
As part of this journey, I have begun to read quite extensively on this issue. I have learned that there is a huge difference between paying a minimum wage and paying a living wage. Minimum wage levels have never kept pace with increases in the cost of living. There are also many implications of us paying a wage which is below that which is required to live, including implications in health care, education, safety and security, and opportunities for breaking free from generational poverty. For me perhaps the most severe of these implications is shortened lifespans – in our HIV/AIDS ravaged nation, the life expectancy of the average South African is currently 52 years. For those who earn under R 5000 per month per family, this life expectancy is significantly reduced. In essence, this means when I pay a wage below a living wage, I am reducing the life expectancy of that person perhaps by as much as 20 years. In the back of my head is the question, “How is this different to murder?” I have also realised that most of my wealth, privilege, and opportunities have been provided to me because of the structural inequalities which exist and have existed for a long time within society. The South African National Planning Commission list nine challenges facing South Africa as 1) Poor Educational Outcomes; 2) High Disease Burden; 3) Divided Communities; 4) Uneven Public Service; 5) Spatial Patterns which marginalise the poor; 6) Too few South Africans are Employed; 7) Corruption; 8) A Resource Intensive Economy and 9) Crumbling Infrastructure. Underpinning all of these, they argue, are the two root challenges of A) Poverty and B) Inequality. Regarding poverty in Sub Saharan Africa, this region is the only region in the world where the number of poor people (people living below the poverty line) is increasing. Regarding inequality: the levels of inequality in South Africa have rapidly increased since 1994. Economists now tell us that South Africa has the dubious distinction of being labelled as the most unequal society in the world. This means both the number of poor and the gap between rich and poor has been getting worse, not better in South Africa since 1994. The issues we face as a nation are huge and are going to require considerable effort to overcome. Martin Luther once said: “If I profess, with the loudest voice and the clearest exposition, every portion of the truth of God except precisely that little point which the world and the devil are at that moment attacking, I am not confessing Christ, however boldly I may be professing Christianity. Where the battle rages the loyalty of the soldier is proved; and to be steady on all the battle-field besides is mere flight and disgrace to him if he flinches at that one point.” In South Africa, it is clear that the biggest battle for justice that we face has to do with the double-sided pernicious enemies - poverty and inequality. This is where we need to engage the world the most if we want to create a society which is just. I honestly believe, that paying a living wage to workers is not only just, but is probably the single most important thing we can do to address poverty and inequality in our country. Furthermore, as we pay a living wage, and workers are able to purchase nutritious food, live in decent shelter, buy adequate clothing, provide for all of their basic needs and have space in their budgets to save and invest so that future generations do not need to live in poverty, we will find not only is poverty and inequality being addressed, but we will also find a reduction in the other challenges facing South Africa. The time is now for us all to review whether we are paying a living wage. Update: Subsequent to this article, we moved into Hillbrow, Johannesburg and part of this journey has led us to no longer employ a domestic worker. We helped arrange alternative work for her at a local coffee roastery, where she is still being paid a living wage. |
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