Women as custodians of memory and architects of community philanthropy

Philanthropy in Africa did not arrive with wealth or institutions; it has always lived in the daily practices of ordinary women.

It is often found in meals shared with a neighbor, in the care of a child by a relative, or at community gatherings to support a bereaved family.

Long before it was named or documented, women carried this work, weaving together generosity and resilience as part of life itself.

This spirit was at the heart of the Centre on African Philanthropy and Social Investment’s (CAPSI) Adɔyɛ Dialogue Series in Johannesburg, which brought together four women to reflect on African philanthropy through the lens of women’s lived experiences.

The theme, “Women in Philanthropy: Liberation, Activism and Leadership,” framed a conversation that was as much about history and memory as it was about the future of African communities.

The panel featured Ms Bongi Mkhabela, Executive Director of the Barloworld Empowerment Foundation; Ms Gugu Xaba, Chief Executive Officer of Save the Children South Africa; Dr Barbara Masekela, activist, diplomat, and cultural custodian; and moderator Ms Theo Sowa, global advocate for women’s rights and philanthropy.

Together, they offered a rich meditation on what it means for women to be architects of community, builders of movements, and keepers of memory.

Redefining Philanthropy

For Bongi Mkhabela, the first step is challenging how philanthropy itself is understood.

Too often, she argued, it is presented as the preserve of the wealthy, stripped of the values that have long sustained African societies.

“Philanthropy has always existed in Africa; it’s as old as the hills,” she said. But she cautioned that recording philanthropy through imported models distorts its essence.

“The natural and organic work done by women often takes on a different face when filtered through who documents it.”

In her view, African philanthropy is inherently participatory. Communities give not from surplus, but from solidarity.

Yet formal spaces often exclude those without financial power.

“Access is often determined by wealth by your balance sheet rather than your contributions,” Mkhabela noted.

“This is subtle, but it reflects exclusion similar to that seen in other spheres, like gated communities.”

Her warning was clear: if documentation and practice center money and status, they risk sidelining the women whose everyday work sustains communities.

“When patriarchy dominates, philanthropy gets reframed around status, who is in the room, and with what resources, rather than community impact. Our work is to ensure the values of ordinary women remain central.”

Building a World of Possibility

Where Mkhabela underscored values, Gugu Xaba pushed the conversation toward possibility. To her, true philanthropy cannot be divorced from leadership and participation.

“When we talk about development, we are really talking to leaders because how can you architect something you are not part of and have not experienced?”

Her work at Save the Children is animated by the drive to restore agency to silenced communities.

“My focus is to ensure that communities that have not been given a voice are empowered to have one. The voice that was taken away from them, showing them only challenges and barriers, is now being restored. We bring back the world of possibility.”

She offered vivid examples from health and childcare: the idea of a “day mother” caring for several children so other mothers could work, or the care provided during the HIV/AIDS crisis, when women tended to bedridden patients while supporting their families.

Even the smallest acts mattered. “Washing a mother with only water and a face cloth, without soap, can significantly improve a patient’s condition,” she explained.

But Xaba also sounded a warning. Possibility vanishes when communities retreat into isolation.

She described the tragedy of a young child neglected by those around him, not for lack of awareness, but because neighbors and teachers chose to close their doors.

“That spirit of collective responsibility had left,” she said. “Our role as leaders is to restore it.”

Custodians of Memory

If Mkhabela spoke of values and Xaba of possibility, Dr Barbara Masekela reminded the audience of memory.

Drawing on her long life as an activist, she reflected on the ruptures of apartheid, when people were cut off from one another.

“We were not allowed to travel freely; we didn’t know what Africa looked like or what people ate,” she said, recalling how apartheid policies cut people off from one another.

“Many of us even called it a prison, particularly in the homelands, where people were so far from the cities.”

Yet, she insisted, communities still found ways to organize and to care. Women’s groups such as the YWCA and Zen Zen clubs embodied the principle of ‘do for yourself.’

And in everyday life, solidarity was instinctive. “When someone dies on a street, the whole street feels the loss,” she recalled.

Today, she sees an urgent need to recreate such spaces.

“It’s important to create spaces where women can meet, using churches, schools, or community halls as meeting places. People must gather.”

Masekela also pushed back against modern dismissals of elders.

“I was shocked last week by the ageism in South Africa. People questioned the value of older participants on panels, asking, ‘What good can they do?’ It reminded me of my childhood, when you’d sit under a tree with an elder and, often against her will, she’d share insights about history and life.”

Her words underscored a central theme of the dialogue: that women are custodians not only of care but also of memory, transmitting values and wisdom across generations.

Sustaining Social Capital

The panelists also grappled with how to preserve solidarity in the face of modern pressures.

Mkhabela recalled how, during the height of the HIV/AIDS crisis in South Africa, women in many communities organized to feed children daily, track their welfare, and ensure they stayed in school.

“By the time they were eighteen, all had finished high school. That is systemic change,” she said.

But she warned that sustainability requires more than goodwill. Communities need resources that remain in their hands.

“We proposed leaving resources in community banks so that when our agencies exit, the community retains financial capacity. The time and effort of community members should be valued, not just volunteer work.”

Xaba added that preserving social capital is as vital as financial investment. She pointed to the lessons of informal savings groups, often overlooked in mainstream economics.

“On the surface, they are about investments. But the real lesson is about social capital. Financial measures alone miss how many women’s groups continue to support families and communities,” she explained.

She noted with concern how markets can erode communal practices. “Replacing women who used to cook at funerals with professional caterers shows how markets can unintentionally diminish community cohesion. Our role is to elevate and amplify community voices while safeguarding social capital.”

Conclusion

The Adɔyɛ Dialogue Series made visible a truth often overlooked: philanthropy in Africa is not born of wealth, but of solidarity.

It is the grandmother watching over neighborhood children, the caregiver tending the sick, the women pooling resources in savings groups, and the elder sharing wisdom under a tree.

As Mkhabela put it, “Whether we act or not, communities will continue to act. Our role is to support and amplify what is already happening on the ground. That’s what I mean when I say we’re adding flame to fires that people are already building.”

It is in those fires tended quietly by women across the continent that the soul of African philanthropy burns brightest.