A Women’s Day celebration by Volunteer Food Handlers in Gauteng on 9 August 2024. Volunteer Food Handlers address NSNP issues, food sovereignty, and better working conditions at LRS Power Up! feminist safe spaces, aiming to make their jobs visible, recognised, valued and remunerated.
Women’s Month should be a time for action, not just empty platitudes. It should prompt us to confront difficult issues, like the lack of recognition and value for care work performed by women. The experience of Volunteer Food Handlers in the National School Nutrition Programme (NSNP) highlights the issue of care work being undervalued and underpaid.
It is exactly the kind of issue we need to talk about – loudly – because, in 2024, care work’s lack of value is used to justify precarious working conditions, low pay, limited training, and inadequate social protection measures for Volunteer Food Handlers.
Volunteer Food Handlers prepare and serve food daily to over 10 million learners through the NSNP, which is vital in improving school attendance and learning outcomes. These women demand more than flowers or heart emojis on Women’s Day. They seek concrete action and accountability. They want to know the progress being made towards valuing and recognising the work they do, not patronising compliments.
Volunteer Food Handlers are not just the unseen ‘hands’ and ‘heart’ of the programme; they are essential players in creating a decolonised and socially just school food program.
The firsthand perspectives of food handlers challenge public and institutional views that dismiss their work as low-skilled and of little value. To truly understand their fight for recognition, we must listen to their stories – stories that connect past struggles to present-day realities.
Over the past three years, a group of food handlers in Gauteng have used feminist safe spaces created by the Labour Research Service (LRS) to discuss their issues with the NSNP, promote food sovereignty in their communities, and organise for better working conditions.
On Women’s Day, the food handlers reflected on their dual identities – as mothers, wives, and guardians in their private lives, and as workers in public spaces. They participate in a programme that requires them to be workers, yet they lack the recognition and identity of being workers.
Invoking the strength of 'Imbokodo' - Honouring ordinary women on Women's Day
The isiZulu word ‘imbokodo’ means ‘rock’ and is used in the saying “Wathint’abafazi, wathint’imbokodo, uzakufa! Ubobhasopa!” (“You strike women, you strike a rock, you will be crushed! You should be careful!”), to capture the strength of women through their collective and collaborative efforts. The idea of imbokodo also represents resilience and is associated with the chant from the 1956 Women’s March, which we recognise on Women’s Day.
For the food handlers, invoking “imbokodo” allows them to connect their current struggles to those of the past. Their heroes – the women who shaped them – are essential in understanding food handlers’ passion for their work under the NSNP. Their stories show how values, skills, and resilience are passed down through generations, helping to shape women’s identities in private and public spaces. Food handlers used unique symbols to describe and honour their heroes:
This totem represents the power of women in my clan to accomplish vast and unattainable tasks. My grandmother, a domestic worker, was an outstanding cook known as the "black madam" of the neighbourhood. She made even the simplest meals with love. I am an amazing cook because of her. Thanks to her training, cooking in the NSNP was not difficult for me. Being in LRS spaces, interacting with food differently, and wearing an apron all remind me of her and the vital, spiritual role food plays.
We are strong like the women of 1956. I felt down when my contract expired, but my grandmother’s encouragement motivated me to remain positive. Then I got a job as a cleaner at the school, assigned to clean the toilets. I worked so thoroughly that the teachers preferred using those toilets over the staff facilities. No one appreciated the invisible work I did, but it made me visible. Now, the principal has assigned me to clean the staff room as well. Previously, as a food handler, I monitored the toilets during breaks to ensure no plates were discarded there. I shared how the LRS and Power Up! helped me value my work with fellow food handlers and I encouraged them to value their jobs.
I brought this traditional Pedi pot, a gift from my grandma. It keeps meals at the perfect temperature, whether hot or cold, much like a flask. My grandma raised me and taught me much of what I know today. As a single mother of three, I’ve relied on the knowledge and wisdom she gave me to raise my children.
I brought this butternut because it reminds me of my mother, who loved farming pumpkins and using their shells to make decorations or traditional beer cups. She taught me how to cook pumpkin without water - just clean it, add a bit of butter, cover, and simmer on low heat until tender. Every time I see a butternut, I think of her. I kept this one from our last meeting to remember how we scooped out the flesh and dry the shell to make a cup.
My grandma loved these plates and bought them for the whole family. They are useful because they keep water cool, and I use them to connect with my ancestors. These photos are of my family and me. After my husband passed away young, my grandma helped me to raise my children and after she died, my grandfather and aunts stepped in. I often felt invisible, but the love and support of my family have always been there. Power Up! and the LRS have taught me to value and respect myself. Now, because I love and value myself, people recognise and appreciate me and my work.
I have two salt and pepper containers from my mother-in-law, who loved me like she would a daughter. Her support meant the world to me, especially as a non-citizen, and she always insisted people call me her daughter, not "makoti." This is my first Women’s Day filled with joy and no fear. After my husband's death and the difficult eight months of mourning, I never thought I’d feel this happy. Last week, I received a letter from Home Affairs with my marriage certificate and an SMS to collect my ID. I’m happy to finally be recognised after feeling invisible for so long. But even if others don’t see me, I value myself, and my journey has made me strong.
I brought this beautiful scarf - it's from my mother, who loves crocheting. My grandmother, who used to knit, crochet, and make beads, also made the necklace I am wearing. As a child, I would sit by the fire with her while she cooked "idubhayi" (beans and maize). My mother taught me how to crochet and cook. My cooking skills have become exceptional, and my school team even notices when I am absent. I’ve also started a small garden at home, thanks to my grandma’s teachings. I also have a small garden at home, thanks to my grandma who taught me how to grow plants.
We food handlers, like the women of 1956, are strong and dedicated to feeding learners. I felt down when my contract expired, but my grandmother’s encouragement kept me motivated. This positivity led me to land a job as a cleaner at the school, assigned to clean the toilets. I worked so thoroughly that the teachers preferred using those restrooms over the staff facilities. No one appreciated the invisible work I did, but it made me visible. Now, the principal has assigned me to clean the staff room as well. Previously, as a food handler, I monitored the toilets during breaks to make sure no plates were discarded there. I shared how Power Up helped me value my work with fellow food handlers, encouraging them to value their jobs.
I brought my grandmother’s milk jar because she loved it. When my grandfather came home from the city, she would ask us to serve him milk with this special jar. In 2008, while I was pregnant with my fourth child, my grandma invited me to sleep with her. When I tried to wake her in the morning, I found she had passed away peacefully. I feel deeply connected to her and carry her strength with me.
Gogo taught me many things, including how to love people. When I arrived at PowerUp! I discovered that the love she taught was the same love that exists in this space. That is why I adore you all.
Exploring identity: What does it mean to be a woman and a worker?
“We are seen but we are invisible.”
The food handlers’ mapping exercise reveals a blending of their roles as mothers and workers in the NSNP. Their day starts before dawn, with tasks at home that mirror the tasks at school. They are seen and unseen – visible in their duties but invisible in their value, both at home and in the workplace.
The mapping exercise illustrated the blurring of roles. Each day begins before dawn, with tasks at home mirroring those at school. The same nurturing and caregiving that defines them as mothers extend to their work, reinforcing the perception that they are seen yet unseen, valued only in the execution of their duties but not in recognition of their worth.
The food handlers’ maternal instincts extend naturally to the children at school. They provide not just food but also emotional support.
“The children call us ‘moms’ at school, which makes me proud.”
“It reminds me of my aunt, a domestic worker who feels uncomfortable being called ‘auntie’ by her employer’s children. Being seen as family blurred the lines of her employment. Despite issues like late payment and being undervalued, she felt obliged to accept her employers as part of her family. How can she stand up for her rights without risking her relationship with them?”
While fulfilling, this maternal role also becomes a source of exploitation. The NSNP expects them to perform without compromising their worker identity. Yet, when a child is distressed in a classroom, food handlers are called upon, even though they have meals to serve.
“I spent thirty minutes in a Grade R class comforting a child who missed her mother. Every time the child cried, the teacher would come to get me from the kitchen.”
This nurturing is often taken for granted, seen as an extension of their identity rather than as work that deserves to be recognised and remunerated.
The food handlers feel disrespected by the school administration and staff. They are underpaid, overworked, and have no option for paid leave. When they take time off, they must find and pay for their substitutes from their already meagre stipend. The women also face inconsistent pay dates, which lead to late payments and financial strain.
"The school expects us to act like superwomen, ensuring that children eat every day, even when we are sick. We must make the same 'plan' we make at home to receive praise and recognition once a year from our children and spouses."
"After my husband passed away, I stayed home for three weeks. The NSNP coordinator wanted to replace me, but the principal asked me to return to work. I was happy despite concerns about wearing mourning clothes. My colleagues made adjustments for me."
Men, by contrast, face fewer challenges when doing similar tasks. Their work, whether in the kitchen or elsewhere, is deemed productive and valuable.
“We grew up seeing our grandmothers grow food for the entire family, yet their labour was never regarded as work. When men do it, for example, as gardeners in domestic work, it suddenly becomes valuable and paid.”
This sense of invisibility is what the food handlers articulated in their slogan: “We are seen but we are invisible.” Yet, there is an undeniable interdependence between food handlers and the NSNP. Without these women, the program would not function.
Volunteer Food Handlers propose integrating gardening into the school curriculum to teach students the value of food production and encourage responsibility for what they eat, while also enhancing community collaboration in food sovereignty.
The food handlers seek recognition for their essential roles at home and in the workplace. They want their labour to be valued, whether they are nurturing their families or contributing to improved school attendance and learning outcomes through the NSNP. Their struggle is not just for themselves but for all women whose contribution is undervalued, underinvested in, unseen, and taken for granted. It is a call for a world where care workers are essential for achieving transformative change in society.
