Red curtains and ceiling drapes create a pink-tinged glow in the dilapidated community centre, an hour south of Johannesburg, where Palesa Hlohlolo tells her neighbors about her experiences of domestic violence.
“I’m not a punching bag and I never will be. For anyone,” she said, grabbing a tissue from a rapidly emptying box.
Every Wednesday, 30 women meet here at Orange Farm township for an hour, their notebooks decorated with stickers that spell out “COURAGE“. Each letter represents a session’s theme in an eight-week group counseling program, which asks participants to reframe trauma as stories of survival and strength.
It’s the brainchild of Ncazelo Ncube-Mlilo, a Zimbabwean psychologist who has devoted her career to developing “culturally sensitive” therapeutic tools.
her charity, Phola, reaches more than 10 000 women, men and children in townships around Johannesburg every year. And the need is enormous: one in four experiencing depression or anxiety in a country still plagued with high unemployment rates and violenceand ranks among the lowest worldwide for mental well-being.
“Today we are on the second R of COURRAGE: ‘Reframing’,” says Karabo Ramabulana, the session facilitator. “Why do these problems exist in our lives?” Previous meetings included to “celebrate” survival and “remember” the hardship..
Penelope Mokgele (43) talks about her son’s drug use. “It’s a pattern: my brother used to smoke, and now it’s my son,” she says.
“I think we as black people are hurt, and we bottle it up. The more we talk – not just as a person, but as a family, a group – the more it will help.”
Hlohlolo raised her hand. Thirteen years ago, she was caught in the crossfire of a shooting on her way to work. She woke up in a body bag after being taken for dead. Severely injured, it took her months to learn how to walk again.
“After all the challenges I’ve been through, I’m grateful because now I can be open to helping others,” she says.
The sessions were an “eye-opener”, says Hlohlolo. “To come here and see that I’m not alone, that someone else’s problems are bigger than mine, but we have the same mentality, it helps.”
Mental health in South Africa is rooted in past oppression, believes Ncube-Mlilo.
“Not enough has been done to respond to the impact of apartheid on people’s lives: the trauma was left unresolved and had ripple effects in communities, families, schools and everywhere.”
With less than one psychologist for every 100,000 people, mental health support at state clinics focuses on the most acute conditions. “When we talk about dealing with stress, anxiety and depression on a daily basis, there is very little [help] available,” says Ncube-Mlilo. Stigma compounds the problem.
In the early 2000s, Ncube-Mlilo worked with HIV/Aids orphans and found that accepted therapeutic tools were poorly suited for these children, so she designed the Tree of Life, a program that uses the tree metaphor to talk about heritage, hardship and to talk dreams.
to newsletter promotion
The method has since been used in more than 40 countries, including the UK. “My work is better known internationally than in the country I live in,” says Ncube-Mlilo. In 2016, she founded Phola – “genes” in Zulu – to offer “an African solution for African people”.
“It’s about moving away from the therapist being the expert, and locating expertise within communities,” says Ncube-Mlilo.
She first drove her campervan around Johannesburg to hold sessions. Now 40 staff run programs in schools, clinics, trailers and community halls, with a limited budget.
Funding comes mainly from international donors and foundations – government support stopped this year budget cuts bite.
Participants went on to form their own support groups. “This is exactly what I was hoping for: that people can move from vulnerability to a place of strength,” she says. “To me, that’s evidence of healing.”
Lerato Magongwa (40) joined an 11-week Phola program called “OUTRAGED” after losing his job in 2022. “As a man you grow up with many expectations: you have to be a leader, a provider, a protector.”
Sessions gave him “an opportunity to roar out my anger and problems”.
“After that storm is gone,” says Magongwa, “you can see clearly and move on with your life.”
He now runs a men’s forum in Orange Farm. “Now we are there for each other,” he says. “If one of us is going through something, we’re just a phone call away.”
