Incomes in Newtown were generally low, yet men spent a significant proportion of their incomes on liquor and tobacco. For example, Mhlongo earned R1 500 (before he had a minibus) but spent an estimated R50 a month on liquor, which in his view did not dent his household budget: "I only drink weekends. It can't be more. In any case my wife does not think that money is a danger to our budget." But R50 translated to 3,3% of his salary which, in my view, was high. Nevertheless, his wife, in asserting that "As a woman I do not have problems with his drinking", suggested that she accepted this in her position as a woman and as a wife who was subordinate to him. Hence she, like most women, did not directly confront her husband on this issue; it was "sanctioned male behaviour". That is why men could account publicly for it: "I give her money and keep a little for tobacco and traditional beer." Men sometimes also demanded more from the household allocation before the end of the month. As one wife confirmed, "Baba, when he runs short he asks from this money (allocation) for tobacco money, but
not always."
However, women did "privately" confess that liquor impacted on household budgets to the extent that it affected relations. But their subordinate position forced them to bear with it. Fuquza related her experience: "In the beginning he was a person who knew how to support. When he started drinking liquor things changed, and were never like in the beginning." Maybe because women also pretended to accept this behaviour, it was being entrenched in men's consciousness, causing them to overlook the effect of this behaviour on relations. So women's silence was an important component in maintaining the practice and translating it to a norm. On the other hand, men’s spending precious money on liquor should also be seen from Sen's (1990) "perceived interest response" perspective, namely that men's long-term interests in maintaining their dominant position is better served by their asserting their own interests and "getting their way" regardless of how anybody else feels. However, Yanga's case showed another dimension: “Baba did not drink nor smoke, yet he did not do things as expected ... Everything in this house is my money, nothing from him." This case shows that drinking per se is not the only factor. Yanga believed that TTA had lost interest in her, an emotional dimension.
Women also mentioned the emotional dimension of the relationship as a factor, although very few could expatiate this dimension. When I asked Thuli what happened to love in situations like hers, she answered: "Once there are children, love for each other diminishes and you focus on the children. Then love is expressed differently through supporting. So if it (supporting) is not done, then love is not there." Abegail concurred that "love is related to one's behaviour. So if he is not supporting, love diminishes." Therefore, for women, providing for the household was an important yardstick for the quality of the relationship. They made a direct connection between the material and emotional dimensions. But the unemployed Ernest stressed that women had a critical role in these situations because they “are very influential. They can change men through various means if they love them.” Sibongile concurred but emphasised that this was a difficult exercise: “I supported him hoping that he would change his behaviour and I loved him. But I failed and he ultimately left me." Some women argued that although they might still have loved their husbands, the load of supporting the household, especially when the husband was working yet not supporting, would ultimately threaten the relationship. So both men and women acknowledged the emotional dimension in households and linked it to the material dimension.
Yanga shed further light on this issue when she claimed that "when he stops sleeping with you he also stops supporting you and the children". Here, loss of sexual interest
was also identified as a factor. A related factor mentioned by almost all the women was that their husbands had girlfriends and that a significant amount of income went to supporting them. When I asked Phile what she thought her non-supporting husband did with his money, she answered: "Even the girlfriends, they are there as I see the way he disappears." Others confirmed the phenomenon of girlfriends getting money that could have been used for the household. Audrey (46) was an unemployed divorcee who lived with her two daughters and a granddaughter. One of her daughters, a nurse, was the main breadwinner, whilst Audrey sold iced drinks and snacks. Audrey said: "I had a boyfriend who supported me but he left me. He was someone's husband so I guess that's where he went." Elizabeth (42), on the other hand, was a domestic worker and she claimed that her boyfriend paid for the house. He lived with his wife in another township and had a taxi business. When he visited she stole money from him because he carried a lot of cash. This "unrightful" transfer of money explained some of the suspicions and sometimes tensions between wives and women heading households.
Regarding the issue of men choosing to support a girlfriend instead of his wife I concluded that individual motivational factors alone, whilst important, did not reveal the whole picture. Supporting a girlfriend was a voluntary act; there were no obligations (moral and otherwise) attached to it. The fact that the contribution was made towards
"potential" might have given men a sense of control. Furthermore, because the contribution was not obligatory there were no expectations against which to measure whether the contribution was sufficient or not. Therefore, it was easier for a man to be a "good man" to his girlfriend than to his contractual household where there were moral obligations attached to the extent and regularity of his contribution.
Men also retained money for what they called emergencies like death, illness and so on. Men were held responsible both normatively and financially for such events. The fact that they unilaterally decided to "save" money for these events and how much it should be was seen by women as income retention. Women like Thuli were also concerned about emergencies: "I also worry about emergencies like death. Where would I start really." Therefore, lack of information led to tension over what would otherwise have been a common goal, namely providing for emergencies. Furthermore, by withholding information on the amount of money set aside for emergencies, men
assumed a powerful position. They became the controllers of an important "potential" contribution. Because women spent a large portion of their money on day-to-day needs, even if they also worked, they tended to depend on men for emergencies. The visibility of paying for expenses related to death and illness could not be contested in Newtown. It was a very public contribution and there were cultural beliefs attached to such events (funerals, weddings).
Thenjiwe lived with her daughter Lindiwe (26) and her son Lungani (22) and a grandchild. She was a nurse earning R1 500. Lindiwe said that Lungani and she had different fathers. She talked very passionately about how her mother raised them on a meagre income as a private teacher. She also said that she knew her father. He was "not struggling at all". I asked her why he was not supporting her. She believed that it was a question of out of sight out of mind. Proximity did put pressure on men to support, she believed. That is why her father was supporting his official household and forgot about her. But this was contradicted by Asanda's case. She was the second wife and she claimed that when her husband was still working he was living with her but supported his first wife.