ORANGE FARM, SOUTH AFRICA — In a modest home south of Johannesburg, 17-year-old Refiloe Motloung wakes before sunrise.
While most girls her age are still dreaming, she prepares for her day at school — quietly packing her books and uniform so as not to wake her two-year-old daughter, Oratile.
Refiloe is one of many teenage mothers in South Africa navigating the complex terrain of motherhood, education and survival.
According to the Department of Education, 67,389 girls delivered babies in the first quarter of 2025. According to Angel Khanyile, a member of South Africa’s parliament and the Democratic Alliance party, teenage pregnancy contributes to the cycle of poverty.
“Pregnant learners are at high risk of being school drop outs and limited economic opportunity,” she said.
Refiloe’s journey began when she became pregnant at just 15 years old.
“I was scared, but I knew I didn’t want to drop out,” she said. Now in Grade 11 at Siyaphambili Secondary, she is determined to finish school — but every step is a struggle.
Her daughter’s care is a delicate balancing act made possible by her mother, Nthekeleng Rebecca Motloung, who looks after Oratile during the day. The family survives on a child support grant of 530 South African Rand (less than $30) per month — and occasional part-time work done by Refiloe’s father.
“It’s not enough, but we stretch every cent,” says Nthekeleng. “She’s still a child herself, but she’s doing her best.”
Without access to formal early childhood development (ECD) centers, Refiloe is constantly juggling the demands of study and parenting.
“Some days, I come home from school so tired, but I still have to take care of Oratile, do chores and study. If there’s no electricity, I revise by candlelight,” she said.
Why are we running a story on child care in South Africa? Source Media Properties is in the midst of a series examining child care in north central Ohio. The series title borrows from a famous African proverb, “it takes a village to raise a child.” As part of this special project, we’ve partnered with journalists in South Africa to offer an international perspective on the importance of high quality child care and how communities are meeting that need. These stories will run daily from August 18 through 22.
South Africa’s youth unemployment rate (workers age 15 to 34 years old) currently sits at 45.5 percent, according to the Republic of South Africa’s department of statistics (StatsSA). Meanwhile, more than 42% of ECD centers remain unregistered. This leaves families like Refiloe’s reliant on grandparents, neighbors or informal child care centers called crèches — if they can find one.
leFormal crèches are often unaffordable, while backyard centers, typically unregulated, operate under difficult conditions. In many cases, older siblings and even child-headed households must step up to care for the young.
“There are children raising children in this community,” a local teacher said. “They slip through the cracks because they try to avoid social workers — afraid of being separated.”
Refiloe dreams of becoming a social worker or an ECD practitioner herself.
“I want to help girls like me — because we’re not lazy. We just need support,” she said.
A few streets away, 27-year-old Mpho Motaung shares a similar story. In 2022, during her second year at Vaal University of Technology, Mpho gave birth to Onalerona and Onkarabile.
“I never planned to become a mom then,” she said, “but I knew I couldn’t stop studying.”
Unable to afford childcare, Mpho initially left her twins with their father while she attended classes. It was far from ideal. Later, her mother, recently unemployed, took over the caregiving role.
“I trust my mother more than any crèche,” Mpho says. Her concern was heightened after a tragedy in the community — where a toddler at an informal daycare died after ingesting rat poison.
“That changed everything,” she recalled. “My mother said, ‘No more risks.’”
Despite financial and emotional challenges, Mpho completed her coursework and recently secured a placement through her university’s Work Integrated Learning program.
The journey of young mothers like Refiloe and Mpho underscores the essential — but often invisible — role of child care in enabling women to work, study and survive. According to the South African Department of Statistics (StatsSA,) more than 40% of households in South Africa are headed by single mothers, many of whom juggle informal work and caregiving without external support. While the child support grant offers a lifeline, it rarely covers actual costs of raising a child.
Still, many find ways to make it work. Across South Africa’s informal settlements, child care is not a service, but a community survival strategy.
In these neighborhoods of shack dwellings, resourceful residents band together to make up for a lack of government investment through hard work and helping each other.
“You’ll see older siblings taking little ones to school, helping with homework or even skipping school to earn a few rands to buy bread,” says a social worker in Orange Farm. “That’s the reality.”
But these stories are not only about hardship — they are about hope. They reveal the quiet strength of mothers, grandmothers and young caregivers refusing to give up on education, dignity or dreams. They are the unseen pillars of South Africa’s informal economy, propping up households, feeding communities and shaping the next generation.
Their struggles expose the urgent need for safe, affordable, and community-anchored child care solutions. But they also remind us that transformation does not only come from policy or institutions — it begins with everyday resilience, lived experience and fierce love.
Because in the end, as the old proverb says, it takes a village to raise a child and these mothers, grandmothers and young caregivers are that village.