The complexity of the South African Food Landscape

I have been sitting on the idea for this blog for months, and started formulating it in my mind 100 times, yet I have not gotten to the place of writing it, because I am both uniquely qualified and completely unqualified to write this. BUT, I cannot shake the feeling that this needs to be said, and I cannot write the guest blog about how we can save money on our grocery bills that I have promised to do, without firstly acknowledging the truth of where we as a country find ourselves in terms of food inequality.

I am an almost 40-year old white South African woman, and I am a qualified Health Coach. Much of my life over the past 15 years has been devoted to learning about food and nutrition, even when I was working in other industries. I have spent big portions of my life in full-time ministry working with people that come from all walks of life. I have visited people in their shacks and I have walked the streets of Madagascar where we chose to buy fruit with a thick peel like a banana or a litchi from street vendors to minimize my chances of getting cholera, and hoped that the meat that I was eating while visiting people was not what I just saw covered in flies in the market square. I have been trying to create experiences where I could share in the food culture of my fellow South Africans. I have stared poverty in the face in these moments and I know what it does to people, but if I have to be honest with myself, even though I don’t feel like I am rich at all, I have never been poor, and I most certainly have never been hungry. I had the privilege of living in a brick house, having my own bed, and having food available to me every day of my life: heck, I could even choose what I wanted to eat!

But I love, and live in, a country that is known as the most unequal country in the world.
In South Africa, the poorest 40% of the population have only 7% of the total income. The richest one per cent have 22% of total income. The richest 10% have 50% of total income. This is a country where many families have only one bread-winner (or perhaps more accurately one maize-winner). The median wage in South Africa is R3300 and is statistically used to support 3.5 people (that comes to R30 per person per day) – yes, that’s cheaper than your daily cappuccino! (source)

Siya is not unique in these experiences, but he is the exception to the rule, because he got out of those circumstances, and is doing a bloody good job at telling his story and trying to change precisely this reality for many people. But MANY like him are still hungry. Some are hungry because they stuggle to find work, and others are hungry despite the fact that they work.

The reality is, even though I don’t feel it, I have no idea how rich I am. But while I was studying to become a Health Coach, and I was learning about the amazing benefits of eating a wholefood diet, I started wrestling with how this would be rolled out to the 40% that share only 7% of our country’s wealth. How do we make it accessible for that 40% to actually eat well and be nourished, when right now they are barely eating something. When moms are skipping meals so their kids can eat, or feeding their kids sugar water before bed?

I am an almost 40-year old white South African woman. I am a qualified Health Coach. And I don’t have the answer to this question… yet. All I know is that I need to find a way to do something. I love that there are so many institutions and individuals working on this problem from all angles, and I am puzzling how what I do can become a part of this wave of change. I don’t just want to see a South Africa where everyone is fed, even though that alone would be a giant feat! I want to see a South Africa  where every single person is nourished.

I don’t know how we will do it, BUT I do think there is hope, because…

I love, and live in, a country where you can find a fresh fruit & veg vendor around every corner. Whether it’s a stall in amongst a few shacks where you can see a few bunches of marog (green leafy vegetables) hanging and buy a roasted sheep’s head, or whether it is an old beat-up bakkie at the side of the road close to the train station that sells fruit and veg from the market. I know that other countries, like America, have what is called food deserts where you literally can walk for miles and not find any fresh produce. It gives me hope that food is nearby.

I love, and live in, a country where no matter the colour of your skin, or the size of your bank balance, I know there is resilience pulsing through your veins. We are people that find a way, or make a way.

I love, and live in, a country where people are starting so many initiatives to change the South African Food Landscape for the better, and I want to be a part of the change.

Every South African deserves to be nourished. How are we going to make that happen?

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