When Retirement Is Not Enough.

2026-08-21

When You’re Old and Still Have to Work.

Sometimes retirement is not the end of working. Sometimes it is simply the beginning of working because you have no choice.

The Price of One More Day.

This Friday morning, I am sitting at City Deep again.

I am still sick.

The fever seems to be easing, but my mouth is dry, my body feels terrible, and there is a part of me that knows I should still be lying in bed.

But I cannot afford another day off.

So here I am.

Working.

There is a strange contradiction in reaching retirement age: you may finally qualify to rest, but the cost of living may make rest impossible.

This morning I needed airtime.

Not for entertainment.

Not for scrolling endlessly through social media.

I needed it because I need to be able to communicate.

I had to ask the man at the shop to give me R40 Telkom airtime on credit.

I will have to pay it back later.

That R40 might sound insignificant to someone with a comfortable income.

It isn’t insignificant when every rand already has a destination.

It is the difference between having a phone that can communicate and having a phone that becomes useless when you are out on the road.

For someone working alone on the road, communication is not a luxury. It is part of staying connected when something goes wrong.

This morning I have two men with me who both have phones.

That helps.

But later I may be sent out alone.

And then the question becomes very simple:

What happens if something goes wrong?

Who do I call?

How do I tell the shop where I am?

How do I contact the people who need to know that something has happened?

A mobile phone is only a communication tool when there is enough airtime or data to actually use it.

That is something easily forgotten by people who have never had to count every megabyte and every rand.

I Was Supposed to Be Retired.

I am old enough to remember when retirement was supposed to mean something.

You worked.

You contributed.

You raised your family.

You survived the difficult years.

You paid your bills.

You built something.

And eventually, you reached the point where you could sit back and enjoy at least some of the fruit of all those years.

That was the dream.

But dreams collide rather brutally with arithmetic.

Rent costs money.

Food costs money.

Electricity costs money.

Transport costs money.

A telephone costs money.

Medicine costs money.

And the cost of simply existing does not stop because a person has reached retirement age.

The problem is not that older people do not want to work. The problem is that many cannot afford not to work.

Look Around You.

I only have to look around at the drivers here to see that this isn’t just my story.

There are older men working.

Men who have years of experience behind them.

Men who have probably spent decades getting up before sunrise and going home tired.

Some of them should be sitting at home with their grandchildren.

They should be telling stories.

They should be fixing something in the yard because they want to, rather than because somebody is paying them.

They should be enjoying the quieter years.

Instead, they are working.

Because the bills have not retired.

A person’s working life may end on paper, while their financial responsibilities continue marching forward.

And I suspect this is not unique to one community.

Across South Africa, many older people face the same uncomfortable mathematics.

A pension may provide some assistance.

But assistance and financial security are not the same thing.

When accommodation alone can consume a substantial portion of an older person’s income, there is very little left for food, transport, communication, unexpected expenses and the ordinary little things that make life bearable.

The Dignity of Work.

There is nothing shameful about working.

I want to make that clear.

Work has dignity.

Work keeps the mind active.

Work gives a person purpose.

Work can provide companionship.

For some people, retirement would actually be difficult if they had nothing meaningful to do.

But there is a profound difference between choosing to work and being forced to work because you cannot survive without the income.

That difference matters.

Work is dignified. Being denied the possibility of rest after a lifetime of labour is another matter entirely.

I don’t want pity.

I want people to think.

When you see an older man driving a vehicle, carrying goods, cleaning premises, guarding a gate, serving customers or doing manual work, don’t automatically assume that he simply enjoys working.

Maybe he does.

But maybe he has a pension that does not stretch far enough.

Maybe his rent increased.

Maybe somebody depends on him.

Maybe his electricity bill arrived.

Maybe his grandchildren need something.

Maybe he simply looked at his bank balance and realised that retirement was not financially possible.

The Generation That Built the Country.

There is something particularly sobering about seeing older people still working when you know how much of their lives they have already given.

They are part of the generation that built businesses, maintained infrastructure, raised families, worked factories, drove trucks, repaired machines, cleaned offices, built houses and kept communities functioning.

They contributed.

They endured.

They carried responsibilities.

And now many are still carrying them.

A society should not measure the worth of its older people by how many hours they can still sell.

Perhaps we need to rethink what retirement is supposed to mean.

Perhaps the question should not simply be:

“How much money can an older person receive?”

Perhaps we should also ask:

“What does an older person actually need to live with dignity?”

Those are not necessarily the same question.

Even Airtime Becomes a Serious Issue.

That might sound ridiculous.

R40 airtime.

What kind of serious social problem can be represented by R40?

Quite a serious one, actually.

Because it represents something bigger.

It represents the daily calculation that poorer people make.

Can I afford this?

Can I afford that?

If I spend R40 here, what happens tomorrow?

Can I get to work?

Can I phone someone?

Can I put food on the table?

Can I pay the person who helped me today?

Poverty is not always a dramatic event. Sometimes it is forty rand of airtime that you have to borrow.

That is the part that bothers me.

Not the airtime itself.

The fact that something so small can become something that requires a calculation.

Still Working. Still Trying.

And so I sit here this Friday morning.

Still sick.

Still working.

Still trying to earn.

Still trying to create.

Still trying to write.

Still trying to build something that might eventually give me a little more independence.

I could be bitter.

Sometimes I am.

But bitterness does not pay the bills either.

So I keep going.

Some people work because they are ambitious. Others work because stopping is financially impossible.

I think we need to remember the difference.

And when we see older men and women still working long after we think they should have retired, perhaps we should not simply say:

“Good for them. They are still working.”

Perhaps we should ask:

“Why do they still have to?”

That question is harder.

And perhaps that is exactly why we need to ask it.

A Quieter Kind of Poverty.

There are different kinds of poverty.

There is the poverty that everyone can see.

And then there is the quieter kind.

The person who owns a phone but cannot afford airtime.

The pensioner who has somewhere to sleep but worries about the next rent increase.

The older worker who smiles at customers while wondering whether the day’s income will cover tomorrow’s expenses.

The man who should be sitting with his grandchildren but is instead waiting for another job.

These people are not necessarily destitute.

They are simply one unexpected expense away from trouble.

Financial insecurity does not always look like poverty. Sometimes it looks like an elderly person who simply cannot afford to stop working.

We Should Do Better.

I don’t pretend to have all the answers.

But I believe we can start by looking.

Really looking.

Look at the older workers around you.

Look at the pensioners still earning money.

Look at the people doing jobs that their bodies probably wish they no longer had to do.

And remember that behind every person is a lifetime.

A history.

A family.

A collection of sacrifices.

A story.

Perhaps retirement should not mean becoming wealthy.

Perhaps it should simply mean becoming safe enough to rest.

Safe enough to say:

“I’ve worked long enough.”

Safe enough to spend time with grandchildren.

Safe enough to pursue a hobby.

Safe enough to write a book.

Safe enough to sit quietly with a cup of coffee.

Safe enough to have R40 available for a telephone call without needing to borrow it.

After a lifetime of labour, wanting a little peace should not be considered an unreasonable ambition.

For now, I am still working.

The fever may be going.

The worries are still here.

But so am I.

And perhaps that is the most honest thing I can write this morning.

Still here.

Still working.

Still trying.

✍️ Othello Cody Verrocchio