EDITORIAL | Living poor but being hailed a legend: the tragic reality of struggling artists

When Nongelo “Nox” Chiume, the son of the late actress Connie Chiume, delivered a tribute to his mother at her memorial service, he probed ministers present on why there are 21 agencies in the fields of sports, art and culture, yet artists still die trying.

It is a question that needs revisiting because the reality of celebrated artists dying as paupers is one of the troubling contradictions of our time.

The essence of Chiume's question is: whose responsibility is it to ensure that those who generate much happiness for our country — and sometimes the world — through sport or entertainment use the millions they earn in their prime in ways that help them avoid soul-destroying poverty in their later years? 

While Chiume might have been referring to artists and those who manage them, his question has general applicability. But a disheartening reality has plagued the South African entertainment and sporting industries in more pronounced ways. Artists and athletes are struggling to make ends meet or find work in their later years — yet, when they die, they are hailed as legends. The irony of legends not being able to take care of themselves is left unsaid, but it's palpable.

But what seems to break many people's hearts is when a well-known star posts, out of desperation, about their hunger pangs, as veteran actor Carlo Radebe did recently. Radebe, who in his prime regularly featured on Backstage and Generations, pleaded with his social media followers to assist him with funds to make ends meet as he had no work any more.

Take Gcina Mkhize, an accomplished actress who hasn't worked since 2021. She recently had a part of her home wrecked while she and her children were inside due to her house being sold at auction after months of nonpayment.

Most recently, Solly Moholo, a renowned gospel star, has had to have his family ask for funds for him to undergo surgery costing R700,000. Meanwhile, he waits in ICU.

Former soccer star Lerato Chabangu is infamous for having lost it all. He joins other soccer luminaries including Emile Baron, who once played for Kaizer Chiefs and Bafana Bafana as a goalkeeper, and late goal poacher Thabang Lebese, who are well known cases of footballers who lost their wealth and ended up in dire straits.

Others, like Junaid Hartley, Jabu Mahlangu and Steve Lekoelea, who were once bankrupt after their soccer careers ended, have commendably built back their lives. But such cases are rare. What is common are stories of fame and high pay followed by poverty. How do we ensure the cycle does not repeat itself?

Artists and athletes need a level of financial literacy that takes into account the transient nature of their earnings. It's not rocket science that soccer players, for example, won't be active the other side of 40. Now, whatever they earn in their 20s and early 30s must be utilised with this in mind. 

We believe soccer clubs and sport associations must be forced to provide compulsory financial training for their stars, just as production houses must host financial advisers who provide counsel on how artists ought to be using their funds. The National Arts Council, Business and Arts South Africa, National Heritage Council and others should publicly account for what they have done to ensure the cycle of fame followed by poverty doesn't repeat itself. 

But literacy alone won't be sufficient. Knowing the right thing does not necessarily translate into the right actions. Some may receive training and still do the wrong things. But being armed with financial literacy is an important start. The industry's emphasis on talent and creativity over financial acumen is self-serving. What is also true is that some artists live lavish lives in their prime, conveniently forgetting that they will not always be in their prime. This tendency must be nipped in the bud.

Others don't have their priorities right. While there have been many reports about artists evading the South African Revenue Service, we still have artists such as Makhadzi, who has to borrow money from a loan shark but still parades around in designer clothing. It may be true that artists must not look like their problems. But that doesn't mean they must incur debts that defy logic simply to impress.

This is why it doesn't make sense to some that artists and athletes would fail to afford entry-level hospital medical cover when their bodies are covered in expensive brands. After all, they know their incomes are unstable and work opportunities are inconsistent. 

The artists and athletes have a responsibility to break the cycle of poverty and neglect through informed decision-making and long-term planning. Surely, they must learn from the painful chapters of those who came before them. But sectoral institutions established to support them must account, for they have a duty to ensure they do not just pay big bucks to people who don't have a clue how to use the funds.

As a society, we must honour those who entertained us for their talent, dedication and passion by ensuring that they receive the respect, care and support they deserve — not just in death, but, importantly, in life. The cycle of fame, high-pay and poverty ought to end — it benefits no-one.