South African Shelter Seeks 'Account Adopters' to Stay Open

For 36 years, Yokhuselo Haven has been the place where battered women and their children find safety in Gqeberha, South Africa. Now this lifeline shelter is asking the community for help in a creative new way.

The haven needs more than R50,000 monthly (about $2,750 USD) to keep running. That covers food, electricity, water, baby supplies, and security for women fleeing domestic violence.

Treasurer Antonette Hamman says companies often offer to paint walls or install systems, which helps. But the shelter's real struggle is paying monthly utility bills on time.

So Yokhuselo Haven launched an "adopt an account" campaign. Businesses and individuals can sponsor a specific monthly expense like the electricity bill or water costs. As a registered nonprofit, the shelter provides tax certificates to donors.

Attorney Daryl Burman and his wife Olga founded the haven in 1988. Burman, one of the region's most respected lawyers, passed away in February at 88, but his legacy of protection continues.

Unlike similar shelters, Yokhuselo Haven receives no government funding. Every rand comes from donations, even though they must still file annual reports with government departments.

House mother Rochelle Norris-Botha helps women open criminal cases against abusers and obtain protection orders. Women typically stay up to three months while the shelter helps them find jobs and rebuild their lives.

Some cases require extraordinary measures. Norris-Botha once helped a woman whose abuser kept threatening her from inside prison. The shelter partnered with transport company Intercape to safely relocate the victim to relatives in another province.

The Ripple Effect

The shelter's impact echoes through generations. Hamman remembers a mother who arrived from the Karoo region with her daughter who has Down syndrome.

When they arrived, the daughter couldn't speak or feed herself. Three months later, she was talking, eating independently, and laughing.

The mother found work at a school. Her daughter enrolled in classes designed for her needs.

Another former resident became a police sergeant, now helping others the way Yokhuselo Haven helped her. "That is why we do what we do," Hamman says.

The shelter recently introduced a modest contribution system where residents pay what they can based on income. No one gets turned away for lack of money, but the approach teaches financial responsibility for life after the haven.

After more than three decades of quiet service, Yokhuselo Haven hopes more people will learn it exists and choose to adopt an account that keeps vulnerable women and children safe.