Opinion | What about the children?

Recent calls by communities across South Africa for the removal of undocumented foreign nationals have ignited intense public debate.

Community members have raised concerns about unemployment, the occupation of trading spaces intended for local entrepreneurs, pressure on public services and deteriorating conditions in some urban centres.

Many citizens argue that employers who hire undocumented workers contribute to local unemployment, while others express frustration about informal trading arrangements and the perceived lack of enforcement of immigration laws.

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Whether one agrees or disagrees with these sentiments, it is difficult to deny that many of the concerns being raised are genuine and require urgent attention from government. Communities have a right to expect that laws are enforced fairly and consistently.

They have a right to demand economic opportunities, safe neighbourhoods, and orderly public spaces. Yet amid the noise, anger, and political rhetoric, one group remains largely invisible. The children. Who is speaking for them?

Who is protecting them when parents are forced to move from place to place in search of safety and shelter amid allegations of intimidation, displacement and violence?

Who is considering the emotional and psychological impact on young children who find themselves trapped in conflicts far beyond their understanding? Children do not choose where they are born. They do not choose their parents’ nationality. They do not choose their immigration status.

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Yet they often bear the harshest consequences of decisions made by adults. As a social worker, I have witnessed first-hand the pain experienced by many families caring for children whose circumstances have become entangled in immigration and documentation challenges.

Behind every statistic is a real child, a real grandmother, and a real family struggling to survive. Particularly troubling are cases involving children born to South African fathers and foreign mothers who later disappear, abandon their children or return to their countries of origin.

In many such cases, the children are left in the care of paternal grandparents who willingly assume the responsibility of raising them despite having very limited financial means. Historically, the Department of Social Development had mechanisms that assisted in tracing absent parents.

Newspaper advertisements were often used as part of court processes to locate biological parents before children could be placed in what was then known as court-ordered kinship care.

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These processes often enabled children to obtain the necessary documentation and eventually access social grants and other services. Today, many of those pathways have become increasingly difficult to access.

One of the most significant barriers is the requirement for paternity testing in situations where a child’s mother cannot be located or where Home Affairs requires proof of paternity before registration can proceed.

While the principle behind verification may be understandable, the practical implications are devastating for poor families. DNA tests are expensive. For grandparents surviving on old-age pensions or households already struggling to put food on the table, these costs are simply unaffordable.

The result is that many children remain undocumented for years. Without birth certificates and identity documents, they face difficulties accessing social grants, education, healthcare services and other basic rights guaranteed under our Constitution. These are not merely administrative challenges.

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They are social justice issues. They are child protection issues. They are human rights issues. Our Constitution is clear that a child’s best interests are of paramount importance in every matter concerning the child.

This principle should guide all institutions and departments that interact with vulnerable children. For this reason, stronger collaboration between the Departments of Social Development, Home Affairs, and Health is urgently needed.

Government should explore mechanisms to provide free or subsidised paternity testing for indigent families where documentation barriers are preventing children from accessing their constitutional rights. Expecting impoverished grandparents to fund costly DNA tests is neither realistic nor compassionate.

It fails to recognise the social determinants of vulnerability that shape the lives of these families. Poverty, migration, family breakdown, unemployment and limited access to services often intersect to create circumstances far beyond the control of the child.

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I recently encountered a grandmother who eventually managed to obtain a paternity test for her grandchild through a public health facility. The cost was substantial. Knowing the sacrifices that elderly caregivers make daily, I could not help but wonder what essentials had to be sacrificed to afford that test.

Was it food? School uniforms? Transport to medical appointments? These are the difficult choices that vulnerable families face every day. As a society, we must be capable of holding two truths simultaneously.

We can acknowledge legitimate concerns about immigration management while also protecting the rights and dignity of innocent children. We can demand accountability from government while ensuring that our responses do not punish those who are least responsible for the challenges we face.

Children should never become collateral damage in political, social or economic disputes. Regardless of where their parents come from, every child deserves protection, identity, belonging and the opportunity to reach their full potential. As the immigration debate continues, let us not forget those whose voices are the quietest. Let us not forget the children.

Njabulo Madlala is a social worker and mental health specialist employed by the Department of Health. He writes in his personal capacity.