On street corners across Cape Town, men and women wait for work, often spending the whole day there without luck. Some have been coming to these spots for years. The luckier manage to get work for one or two days a week.<\/p>\n
In the city centre, from the corner of Buitengracht and Strand streets towards Rose Lane, men begin gathering around 07:00. By 09:00 there are about 30 men waiting and watching as the cars pass by.<\/p>\n
Every time an empty bakkie pulls up, the men sprint to it.<\/p>\n
A few minutes later the bakkie pulls away with at most a couple of men in the back, on their way to work as tilers, painters, bricklayers or general labourers.<\/p>\n
The rest of the men trudge back to their spots to wait for the next bakkie.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe are too many here [to all get work],\u201d said one.<\/p>\n
Vusi Gefe, 37, has been coming to this spot to look for work since he was 30. He travels here every day from Khayelitsha.<\/p>\n
“Sometimes, I don\u2019t get a job and have to go back to Khayelitsha with nothing,\u201d he said. The last time he got work was more than a week ago.<\/p>\n
Vusi Gefe, centre, says that if he doesn’t get a job he is forced go back to Khayelitsha with nothing. Photo: Masixole Feni<\/p>\n
Seven years ago Gefe lost his job as a cleaner. He now specialises in tiling but mostly gets work as a general labourer.<\/p>\n
His girlfriend works in a restaurant and she supports him and their 19-month-old son when he doesn\u2019t have work.<\/p>\n
“When I\u2019m tiling I charge R250 to R350 a day, but when I’m working in general work they pay me R150 to R180,” said Gefe.<\/p>\n
“I hope one day I will get a permanent job because I don\u2019t want to stand here the whole day,” he said. \u201cI have to support the kid; I have to buy clothes and food \u2026 So if I don\u2019t find a job, I will be frustrated.”<\/p>\n
Kevin Dalmain waits down the road where it is less busy, looking slightly out of place in his smart shirt.<\/p>\n
Dalmain is 50 and has two children. He lost his bricklayer job about a year-and-a half ago when the company he worked for moved overseas.<\/p>\n
\u201cI couldn\u2019t afford to go overseas, because what would happen to my family?\u201d said Dalmain.<\/p>\n
He lives with his girlfriend, who is also unemployed, in Woodstock.<\/p>\n
He has been coming to this corner for about three months.<\/p>\n
\u201cSometimes people [who] come here pay good money, so then you ask for a regular job and, if the luck strikes, then it is good. But sometimes, the people just pay R50 or R60 a day. The most is R150 a day for bricklaying,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cSometimes it\u2019s embarrassing, because what do people think about you?\u201d<\/p>\n
Donald Mutasa, 35, came to the country from Zimbabwe seven months ago hoping to train as a truck driver.<\/p>\n
For the past four months, he has been coming to this corner looking for work.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere are no jobs in Zimbabwe,\u201d he said. He has been saving for his training, but with the little money he earns and with having to support his family, this is hard.<\/p>\n
Mutasa has a wife and four children back home in Zimbabwe. He manages to send money to them though he works only one or two days a week for R150 a day.<\/p>\n
\u201cI try my best to send what I have,\u201d he said. He doesn\u2019t want his family to come to South Africa until he gets a permanent job.<\/p>\n
He has been saving for his training, but with the little money that he earns and with having to support his family, this is hard.<\/p>\n
Mutasa, 35, has a wife and four children back home in Zimbabwe. He manages to send money to them though he only works one or two days a week for R150 a day.<\/p>\n
\u201cI try my best to send what I have,\u201d he said. He doesn\u2019t want his family to come to South Africa until he gets a permanent job.<\/p>\n
Amos Dube, 25, sits on the pavement alongside a truck that is offloading goods for a liquor store.<\/p>\n
Dube is an auto-electrician but he has not worked as one for two years. He has had to work as a plasterer and a general labourer.<\/p>\n
He says he has been coming to this spot for two months, travelling from Philippi.<\/p>\n
If fortunate, he works three times a week earning R150 a day.<\/p>\n
He walks around, handing out his CV to prospective employers, but he has not received a response for more than a month.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can\u2019t manage a good living with that money,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
His wife works at a restaurant, earning R400 a week, which they use to support their 18-month-old child.<\/p>\n
Less than a kilometre down the road, opposite Cape Town train station, a small group of women wait on the corner of Strand and Lower Plein streets hoping for domestic work.<\/p>\n
Esther Mahwehwe has been looking for work for a month since she moved to Cape Town from Durban.<\/p>\n
A relative told her she should come and look for work here.<\/p>\n
A widow, Mahwehwe, 48, is Zimbabwean. She worked in Durban for four years but then her boss died and she lost her job.<\/p>\n
She has now managed to secure work for two days a week, but said: \u201cYou can\u2019t survive on two days’ [work]\u201d.<\/p>\n
She has to support her children and grandchildren in Zimbabwe.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey don\u2019t have jobs. They don\u2019t have money,\u201d she said. \u201cYour blood pressure can go high [when you are unemployed]. I can\u2019t sleep, just thinking how can I get a job \u2026 I need to have money to survive.\u201d<\/p>\n
Another woman from Zimbabwe, Mary Chigodora, also waits on the corner. She has been in Cape Town for five years and has been looking for permanent work for the past two years.<\/p>\n
She said she is \u201csick and tired\u201d of coming to this spot.<\/p>\n
\u201cI buy a train ticket every month, but I won\u2019t get a job here. The children, they need to eat. I just come here to struggle,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
Chigodora works two days a week as a babysitter for two families.<\/p>\n
Despite her constant worry about making ends meet, Chigodora makes the other women laugh at her jokes as they wait around for work.<\/p>\n
Terry Ncube has been looking for work for the past two months because she could not make enough money from her clothes-trading business to support she and her son in Zimbabwe.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy brother sometimes helps me with rent and food,\u201d said Ncube, a 49-year-old widow.<\/p>\n
Her biggest worry is her son in Zimbabwe, she said. She hasn\u2019t seen him for two years. He lives with his grandmother.<\/p>\n
\u201cI am so stressed,\u201d said Ncube. \u201cMy son is supposed to go to university but I can\u2019t manage to pay.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her son wants to study computer sciences and did very well in his A-levels.<\/p>\n
\u201cI used to send money back and some food but now I can\u2019t \u2026 I just need to get something so that he will be able to look after himself,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
GroundUp<\/a><\/p>\n This graphic shows the shocking state of employment in South Africa<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n Unemployment a bigger scar than apartheid: \u2018racist\u2019 economist<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\nMore on unemployment<\/h3>\n