Many SA households don't have enough food to eat — study
Over 23% of SA households experienced inadequate or severely inadequate access to food, a recently released report on food security has revealed.
The report, Food for Thought: Reflections on Food Insecurity, — which was launched by the Socio-Economic Rights Institute (Seri) on Tuesday, — aims to better understand how vulnerable communities in the country experience hunger and food insecurity, particularly in the wake of the Covid-19 pandemic.
The results of the report comes from interviews Seri conducted with partner organisations representing informal workers, recyclers, domestic workers, and residents in informal settlements. The report also exposes the harsh realities of food poverty in both rural and urban settings.
While SA produces enough food to feed its population, the report highlighted that economic access, not food availability, is the biggest barrier. 'Many households may 'move in and out of hunger' during the course of the month as they have to make decisions about food based on their income. In addition to economic or direct access, another way in which households or individuals are able to access food in dire economic circumstances, is through food aid,' read the report.
Low wages, rising food prices, and structural inequalities leave many unable to afford nutritious meals. This not only affecting the unemployed but also working-class families earning minimum wage, the report added.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
eNCA
11 hours ago
- eNCA
'Survive, nothing more': Cuba's elderly live hand to mouth
HAVANA - With a monthly pension barely sufficient to buy 15 eggs or a small bag of rice, Cuba's elderly struggle to make ends meet in one of Latin America's poorest and fastest-ageing countries. As the communist island battles its deepest economic crisis in three decades, the state is finding it increasingly hard to care for some 2.4 million inhabitants -- more than a quarter of the population -- aged 60 and over. Sixty is the age at which women -- for men it's 65 -- qualify for the state pension which starts at 1,528 Cuban pesos per month. This is less than $13 at the official exchange rate and a mere $4 on the informal street market where most Cubans do their shopping. "Fight for life, for death is certain," vendor Isidro Manuet, 73, told AFP sitting on a sidewalk in the heart of Havana, his skin battered by years in the sun, several of his front teeth missing. AFP | YAMIL LAGE "I manage to live, survive, nothing more," he said of his meagre income that allows him to buy a little food, and not much else. As he spoke to AFP, Manuet looked on as small groups of people walked by his stall carrying bags full of food. They were coming out of Casalinda, one of several part government-run megastores that sells goods exclusively to holders of US dollars -- a small minority of Cubans. Most rely instead on informal stalls such as the ones Manuet and other elderly Cubans set up on sidewalks every morning to sell fruit, coffee, cigarettes, candy, used clothes and other second-hand goods. - 'Things are bad' - Near Manuet's stall, 70-year-old Antonia Diez sells clothing and makeup. "Things are bad, really bad," she sighs, shaking her head. AFP | YAMIL LAGE Many of Cuba's elderly have been without family support since 2022, when the biggest migratory exodus in the country's history began amid a crisis marked by food, fuel and medicine shortages, power blackouts and rampant inflation. More beggars can be seen on Havana's streets -- though there are no official figures -- and every now and then an elderly person can be spotted rummaging through garbage bins for something to eat, or sell. The Cuban crisis, which Havana blames on decades of US sanctions but analysts say was fueled by government economic mismanagement and tourism tanking under the Covid-19 pandemic, has affected the public purse too, with cuts in welfare spending. As a result, the government has struggled to buy enough of the staples it has made available for decades to impoverished Cubans at heavily subsidised prices under the "libreta" ration book system. It is the only way many people have to access affordable staples such as rice, sugar and beans -- when there is any. Diez said she used to receive an occasional state-sponsored food package, "but it's been a while since they've sent anything." - 'No future' - This all means that many products can only be found at "dollar stores" such as Casalinda, or private markets where most people cannot afford to shop. According to the University of Havana's Center for Cuban Economic Studies, in 2023 a Cuban family of three would have needed 12 to 14 times the average minimum monthly salary of 2,100 pesos (around $17) to meet their basic food needs. Official figures show about 68,000 Cubans over 60 rely on soup kitchens run by the state Family Assistance System for one warm meal per day. At one such facility, "Las Margaritas," a plate of food costs about 13 pesos (11 dollar cents). Pensioner Eva Suarez, 78, has been going there daily for 18 months. "The country is in such need. There's no food, there's nothing," she told AFP, adding her pension is basically worthless "because everything is so expensive." Inflation rose by 190 percent between 2018 and 2023, but pensions have not kept pace. Some are losing faith in communism, brought to the island by Fidel Castro's revolution, and its unfulfilled promises such as a litre of subsidised milk for every child under seven per day. "I have nothing, my house is falling apart," said Lucy Perez, a 72-year-old economist who retired with 1,600 pesos (about 13 dollars) a month after a 36-year career. "The situation is dire. The nation has no future." It's not just the elderly suffering. Cuba was rocked by unprecedented anti-government protests in 2021, and students have been rebelling in recent months due to a steep hike in the cost of mobile internet -- which only arrived on the island seven years ago. In January, the government announced a partial dollarisation of the economy that has angered many unable to lay their hands on greenbacks. by Rigoberto Diaz
The Citizen
2 days ago
- The Citizen
Tongaat's Missions Ablaze NPO hits momentous 30-year milestone
Tongaat's Missions Ablaze NPO has distributed a staggering 78.9-million meals to an estimated 3.6-million people over its 30 years of operation. The organisation currently provides over 2 500 meals daily through its soup kitchens and steps in with clothing, blanket and stationery distribution across Tongaat and surrounding communities when donations allow. It celebrated its 30th anniversary on June 1, marking three decades of impact along the North Coast. Missions Ablaze began on a dusty construction site in Matchana, Empangeni, where founder Tinus Lindeque received a vision while building a church. He saw an eagle rising above a cross, accompanied by the simple but powerful message, 'we feed the poor.' After several years of moving between locations, the organisation eventually settled on a fittingly named piece of land near Tongaat – Eagle's Rise. In the early days, the team faced many challenges. Eight missionaries used two kombis to deliver 300 meals a day, often scraping together fuel and food through faith and the generosity of well-timed donors. 'Support came from unexpected places. Dr Conrad Mershon and Robin Read, both from Georgia, USA, brought a team of 50 volunteers and breathed momentum into the young ministry,' said Tinus. The organisation has since grown into a major support hub, partnering with retailers and churches to expand its reach. Missions Ablaze played a vital role in feeding and supporting communities during the KZN riots, floods, the Tongaat tornado and the Covid-19 pandemic. Gerda Kaljee, a volunteer from the NG Kerk in Ballito, said she was most impressed by Missions Ablaze's consistency. 'Many organisations do fantastic work in the first days and weeks following a disaster, but the need extends far beyond that time. Missions Ablaze has been on the ground every day for decades,' she said. The Section 18A-registered organisation is always in need of support, whether through monetary, food or clothing donations, or volunteer time. Visit to find out more. Stay in the loop with The North Coast Courier on Facebook, X, Instagram & YouTube for the latest news. Mobile users can join our WhatsApp Broadcast Service here or if you're on desktop, scan the QR code below. At Caxton, we employ humans to generate daily fresh news, not AI intervention. Happy reading! Stay in the know. Download the Caxton Local News Network App Stay in the know. Download the Caxton Local News Network App here
IOL News
2 days ago
- IOL News
When it comes to Freedom of Expression, the WHO Pandemic Agreement says nothing
The writer says that the next time a pandemic strikes—and there will be a next time—we cannot look to Geneva for guidance on how to preserve open debate and protect democratic norms. Image: File THE World Health Organization's long-awaited Pandemic Agreement has finally been adopted. At over 30 pages, it is comprehensive in ambition - addressing everything from vaccine access to supply chain resilience. But when it comes to one of the most critical ingredients for effective public health in a democracy - freedom of expression - the Agreement has remarkably little to say. In fact, it says almost nothing. Take, for instance, this key provision: 'Each Party shall, as appropriate, conduct research and inform policies on factors that hinder or strengthen adherence to public health and social measures in a pandemic and trust in science and public health institutions, authorities and agencies.' This sounds constructive. But read it again. 'As appropriate'? According to whom? And what policies, exactly? The Agreement doesn't say. It offers no guidance on whether open public debate - complete with disagreement, critique, and messy facts - is essential to building trust in science and public institutions. Nor does it warn against the dangers of censorship during public health crises. It simply leaves it to each country to decide for itself what 'appropriate' means. In other words, it takes no position. And this is precisely the problem. In the name of trust, governments during the COVID-19 pandemic did not always build it - they sometimes undermined it. South Africa offers two powerful examples. First, Dr Glenda Gray, one of the country's most respected scientists and then-president of the Medical Research Council, publicly criticised aspects of the government's lockdown measures. The reaction from the Department of Health was swift: the Director-General requested that her employer, the Medical Research Council, investigate her. Video Player is loading. Play Video Play Unmute Current Time 0:00 / Duration -:- Loaded : 0% Stream Type LIVE Seek to live, currently behind live LIVE Remaining Time - 0:00 This is a modal window. Beginning of dialog window. Escape will cancel and close the window. Text Color White Black Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Opaque Semi-Transparent Background Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Opaque Semi-Transparent Transparent Window Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Transparent Semi-Transparent Opaque Font Size 50% 75% 100% 125% 150% 175% 200% 300% 400% Text Edge Style None Raised Depressed Uniform Dropshadow Font Family Proportional Sans-Serif Monospace Sans-Serif Proportional Serif Monospace Serif Casual Script Small Caps Reset restore all settings to the default values Done Close Modal Dialog End of dialog window. Advertisement Next Stay Close ✕ This wasn't scientific debate. It was an attempt to silence a dissenting voice. It was only after public uproar that the matter was dropped. Second, consider the ivermectin litigation saga. In December 2020, South Africa's medicines regulator, SAHPRA, triggered a controversy by incorrectly stating in a press release that ivermectin was 'not indicated … for use in humans', despite the fact that the drug had long been registered for certain human indications in South Africa. Some might label SAHPRA's statement as misinformation or even disinformation, but more plausibly, it was simply a careless - though consequential - error by a public authority. Yet the same press release went further, threatening with criminal enforcement against members of the public seeking to import ivermectin - an unnecessarily heavy-handed stance that swiftly provoked litigation. These are not stories from some distant autocracy. They happened here, in South Africa. And they highlight an uncomfortable truth: even well-meaning public institutions can slip into authoritarian habits under the pressure of a public health crisis. The antidote to authoritarian drift - and to official error - is freedom of expression. In Democratic Alliance v African National Congress, the Constitutional Court affirmed that freedom of expression is valuable not only for its intrinsic worth but also for its instrumental role in a democratic society. It informs citizens, fosters public debate, and enables the exposure of folly and misgovernance. It is also vital in the pursuit of truth—both personal and collective. If society suppresses views it deems unacceptable, those views may never be tested, challenged, or proven wrong. Open debate enhances truth-finding and allows us to scrutinise political claims and reflect on social values. This is why the South African Constitution enshrines freedom of expression - not as a luxury for peacetime, but as a safeguard for moments of crisis. Our Constitution was written with the memory of repression in mind. And it is precisely when fear and uncertainty tempt governments to silence dissent that its protections matter most. One might have expected an international agreement on pandemic response to affirm these same values. Yet the WHO Pandemic Agreement retreats into vagueness. It speaks of 'trust' and 'solidarity,' and warns against 'misinformation and disinformation,' but avoids the real issue: how should a democratic society respond when public health policies are contested? How do we protect space for critical voices? Instead of offering a principled stand, the Agreement offers a shrug. Countries are told to act 'as appropriate.' That could mean encouraging open dialogue—or it could mean criminalising dissent. The WHO doesn't say. And that silence speaks volumes. Professor Donrich Thaldar Image: University of KwaZulu-Natal
