Why MyDomestic...

 

We were living at the Waterfront in Richards Bay, KZN when I first learned how thin the line is between survival and collapse.

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There was a painter named Mhlongo. He worked with the only tools he had, with his hands, with his body. He had a wife and five children—two of them twins, twice over. A full house. He was a good man who loved his family dearly, and a hard and dilligent worker.

One day, working on a roof, he fell.

 

He lived. But he never truly came back.

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Something in his mind was left behind on that roof. The man who returned to his family was not the man who had climbed up that ladder. There was no UIF. No Workmen’s Compensation. No safety net waiting beneath him - only concrete.

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My mother was not his employer, yet she tried to help where she could. But goodwill is not a system, and kindness cannot replace protection. There were days when the twin babies were fed only sugar water. Not milk. Not food. Sugar and water - because that was all there was.

I still remember their mother.

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She was a graceful, serene, beautiful woman. The kind of quiet strength that does not announce itself. The kind that bends again and again until, one day, it breaks. The weight of financial stress, of fear, of carrying everything alone crushed her slowly. Eventually, she passed away.

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And then the children were left to fend for themselves.

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That story never left me.

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Years later, I became a single mother myself. For a long time, I managed alone - too stretched, too careful with every rand to afford help. Eventually, I was able to allow myself one small mercy: domestic help once a week.

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For my domestic worker, this is her only employment.

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And that matters.

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There are moments in life when we are able to step up - not because we are wealthy, but because we are aware. Protecting our domestic workers as much as we expect to be protected ourselves is not a burden; it is a privilege. It costs so little - about 2% of wages for UIF and Workmen’s Compensation combined - but that small amount can be the difference between dignity and desperation, between stability and disaster, between life continuing or quietly falling apart.

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It is only when you live on the edge, counting every coin, that you learn how precious each one truly is.

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This is not a naïve story. The truth is, not every worker is a blessing. Some become a hindrance rather than a help. And kindness without structure can leave you vulnerable. Doing things properly - dotting your i’s, crossing your t’s, following the law - protects everyone. It can save you enormous pain if a disgruntled employee turns to the CCMA. Fairness works both ways.

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But systems matter. Protection matters. Accountability matters.

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MyDomestic was born from the understanding that compassion and compliance are not opposites. They belong together. When we choose to do the right thing - quietly, consistently, lawfully - we create a world where fewer children are fed sugar water, where fewer families fall through invisible cracks, and where dignity is not left to chance.

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Sometimes, doing the right thing doesn’t change the whole world.

But for one family, it can change everything.