PRETORIA, SOUTH AFRICA — The smell of soft porridge filled the air as children tumbled out of taxis and into the arms of teachers at Mshengu Learning Centre. It’s 6:30 a.m. in Nellmapius, a township in the South African capital city Pretoria, and another day of Ubuntu child care was beginning.
Ubuntu, the deeply rooted African philosophy that “we are all connected,” isn’t just painted on the walls. It lives in every interaction, every adaptation made for children who learn differently, every parent supported through challenges they can’t face alone.
In this bustling township of 56,000 people, community care means something deeper than anywhere else.
Here, where 95% of residents are Black African and Sepedi (the local language) echoes through the streets, the ancient wisdom of collective responsibility meets modern child development needs.
Thabo Mthembu drops his 3-year-old daughter off each morning before heading to his construction job.
“I can go to work knowing she’s in good hands,” he said. “They don’t just watch her, they really care about who she becomes.”
For Nyeleti Shipalana, watching over 20 little ones isn’t just a job. It’s Ubuntu in action.
“I don’t have a child with special needs myself, but it brings me peace knowing parents don’t have to face this alone,” the bubbly 38-year-old teacher said. “We’re here to help raise their children.”
That philosophy gets tested daily. One 4-year-old boy, likely on the autism spectrum, won’t eat unless someone feeds him. He struggles with textures and prefers to play alone. Another child arrived last year with hearing loss, needing extra help to communicate with classmates.
Most centers might find excuses. Mshengu finds solutions.
“It’s often difficult to feed him because he’s very picky. It would be easier to make the same food for everyone,” admitted Shipalana’s co-worker, who wished to remain anonymous. “But we’ve found ways to help him eat.”
When the system fails families
Many children in areas like Nellmapius struggle to hit early learning milestones. Across Pretoria, centers often lack basic ramps, accessible toilets and trained staff, leaving children with special needs behind. Most early learning workers in South Africa either have no formal training or learned from organizations that aren’t officially recognized.
Shipalana didn’t start with special training. But she sought it out, completing programs on caring for children with disabilities and learning how to spot developmental challenges.
“Every child deserves a chance to learn and grow,” she said.
Beyond the classroom walls, children learn through jumping, singing and playing Kgati, a traditional South African jump rope game that connects them to their roots. After lunch, sleeping mats cover the floor where tired little bodies rest before parents return.
The law says every child deserves the best care possible and centers like Mshengu are making that real. South Africa’s Children’s Act covers everything from basic safety to nutrition standards, creating a safety net for the country’s most vulnerable children.
But the kind of individualized care found at Mshengu is rare in South Africa’s fragmented early childhood landscape. Across the country, 60% of early learning centers operate unregistered, often not by choice but due to complex compliance requirements. Only 40% are registered centers are fully compliant.
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 23.
Community leaders step up
In Nellmapius, as in many South African townships, community leaders aren’t elected officials. They’re volunteers who emerge organically to keep neighborhoods functioning. These unpaid champions coordinate everything from street cleaning to conflict resolution and increasingly, they’re advocating for better child care.
Sarah Ndlovu is a respected community leader who has lived in Nellmapius for more than two decades. She spends her days helping residents navigate government services, mediating disputes and organizing community meetings. Like many township leaders, she stepped into the role because someone had to. A formal government presence in places like Nellmapius often feels distant.
“The paperwork alone stops many people from opening centers,” Ndlovu said. “But we need more places like Mshengu.”
Getting registered as a child care center means jumping through hoops with multiple government departments. Owners must get approval from South Africa’s Department of Social Development, obtain health certificates from the municipal government and coordinate with the national Education and Health departments.
Meanwhile, finding quality, affordable child care in townships like Nellmapius often feels impossible. Many working parents earn too much for government subsidies but not enough for private centers, a frustrating middle ground that leaves children without options.
For families seeking help with child care costs, the process starts at Social Development offices, where they prove their income eligibility and join waiting lists.
Finding solutions in tradition
In 2022, South Africa transferred all early childhood development responsibilities to the Department of Basic Education, a move designed to create better coordination and stronger support for young children. The department now focuses on expanding access to quality programs, especially in underserved communities like Nellmapius, while strengthening practitioner training and developing better infrastructure standards.
They’ve increased funding for Grade R (kindergarten) classes, raised training requirements for teachers and set better nutrition standards for facilities getting government support. But there’s still more to be done.
“We see what this center is doing, it’s changed our street,” said neighbor Rebecca Molefe, watching children play outside. “Kids are happier, parents stress less. If more places worked like this, imagine what could happen.”
Shipalana dreams of that too. She’s seen how Ubuntu and the philosophy of ‘it takes a village’ transforms not just individual families, but whole communities.
When children with different needs play together, when parents support each other, when teachers go the extra mile — that’s when real change happens.
“If centers got training like we did, kids across Gauteng could benefit,” she said. “It’s not about having the fanciest building or the most toys. It’s about seeing every child as our child.”
What makes the difference
The boy who wouldn’t eat now sometimes feeds himself. The girl with hearing loss has learned to communicate through gestures her classmates understand. These small victories ripple outward.
As the afternoon sun filters through windows decorated with children’s drawings, another day winds down at Mshengu. Parents arrive to collect sleepy toddlers and chattering preschoolers who’ve spent hours learning that differences aren’t obstacles — they’re just different ways of being human.
“This is what community looks like,” says parent Nomsa Khumalo, scooping up her son. “We’re all in this together.”
In a country still healing from division, places like Mshengu quietly prove that caring for each other’s children isn’t just noble, it’s necessary. Every child who learns to read here, every parent who goes to work without worry, every teacher who refuses to give up on a struggling student is building something bigger than themselves.
They’re building the village that raises the child. And in Nellmapius, that village is working.
Zanele Makola is South African journalist with Student Living SA, a publication of MeD8 Media.