Clement Cupido. Image: Supplied

May is Africa Month. It is a time when we celebrate the continent’s resilience, creativity, and shared heritage. It is also a moment to reflect on the unfinished work of building societies where opportunity is not just promised, but delivered. Take, for instance, the 4th Industrial Revolution and the unequal playing field it’s likely to create in terms of access to job opportunities.

As a researcher in the Namaqualand region, I spend a lot of time with communities in the area, and my experiences fail to convince me that the playing fields in the world of work are equal. 

The South African story I want to share is based on the life of *Marianna Lucas (pseudonym) from Tweefontein in Namaqualand and how opportunities often fail to reach those, like her, who need them most.

Marianna is 22-years-old, determined, capable, but already at a disadvantage. The job she hopes might change everything is that of a cleaner in Cape Town. It requires a Grade 10 certificate. On paper, it is “entry-level.” In reality, it is anything but.

The advertisement was posted online, in English only. Marianna does not scroll job portals. She does not own a laptop, a printer or even a smartphone. The advertisement only reached her because a friend visiting from a nearby town showed it to her on a relative’s WhatsApp account. Already, the first barrier is clear: opportunity today assumes connectivity and access to digital technology.

Statistics South Africa reports that while internet access in urban households exceeds 70%, deep rural access remains far lower. In provinces like the Northern Cape, physical distance compounds digital exclusion, as well as for communities like Tweefontein, a 50 km shaky, gravel road from the nearest town. Digital access is not simply about convenience; it increasingly determines who gets left behind. 

Marianna has never written a CV. Her schooling ended before matric, not because of a lack of ability, but because of circumstances: transport costs, household pressures and poverty. Her experience is real: caring for siblings, doing seasonal farm work, and even taking on informal cleaning jobs. But none of it is documented in the format the job market demands.

In Tweefontein, there are only two places where a CV can be created: the small multi-grade school or the municipal satellite office. So, Marianna walks. She waits. She asks for help. A teacher, who is already stretched, sits with her after hours. They draft a CV in English - a language Marianna speaks, but not fluently. Each sentence is negotiated, translated in her mind from Afrikaans and shaped into something she hopes sounds “professional.” The CV is printed. It costs paper and ink. Yes, small things, but it is not free.

The job requires an online submission and this is where many journeys end. Marianna must return to the school. The application portal is unfamiliar: upload documents, fill in fields, and create an email address. She has never used Gmail before. A password must be created. Security questions must be answered. A confirmation email must be opened. Each step assumes prior exposure. Each step quietly filters out those without it. This is not just a digital process; it is a digital literacy test.

The form asks for contactable references. Who can she list? Informal work does not come with HR departments. Seasonal farm labour does not generate reference letters. Community trust is strong, but not easily conveyed to a recruiter telephonically. Eventually, she lists a teacher. Perhaps someone from the municipal office. It feels inadequate, but it is all she has.

Weeks pass, sometimes months. In Tweefontein, income comes mostly from social grants administered through the South African Social Security Agency (SASSA): pension, disability and child grants, which form the backbone of survival. Jobs are scarce, and apart from seasonal labour, opportunities are thin. For Marianna, the waiting is not passive; it is anxious, uncertain and costly. Each trip to town, each printed page, each borrowed megabyte is an investment in hope.

Africa Month is meant to celebrate unity and progress. Yet Marianna’s story shows how unevenly progress is distributed. The digital economy, hailed as Africa’s future, risks becoming another frontier of exclusion. When opportunity requires a signal, those without connectivity are left behind.

South Africa’s job market increasingly assumes digital literacy, English fluency, and access to devices. For rural youth, these assumptions are barriers. The irony is sharp: the very communities most in need of opportunity are those least able to access it.

Marianna’s journey is not unique. Across rural South Africa, young people face similar hurdles. The race for work is unequal, not because of a lack of talent or ambition, but because of structural divides.

Africa Month should not only celebrate heritage; it should demand equity. The continent’s future depends on unlocking the potential of its rural youth. In South Africa, that means bridging digital divides, rethinking recruitment processes, and investing in community-based support.

Marianna is a reminder that opportunity is not equally visible or attainable. Let’s confront the unequal race for work. Opportunity cannot remain a signal that only some receive. It must be a bridge that reaches every community, every learner, every dreamer. Only then will the 4th Industrial Revolution fulfil its promise of expanding opportunity across Africa, instead of deepening exclusion. No young person should be left behind because of where they live or the devices they use.

* Clement Cupido is a researcher at the Agricultural Research Council and supervises postgraduate students in the Biodiversity and Conservation Biology Department at the University of the Western Cape. His opinions are informed by his experience working with deep rural agricultural communities across South Africa. He also serves as a director of Rural Upliftment Development and Innovation (RUDI).