Durban, South Africa — In a profession long dominated by white males, the new recruits in lifeguarding classes at Rachel Finlayson Swimming Pool in Durban stand out: They’re mostly black and female. 

On a winter day in the offseason, training was in full swing at the pool, located on the North Beach promenade. In the background, waves crashed against the beach, which is one of the world’s busiest, crowded with nearly one million people on summer days.

Along the pool deck strode Xolani Jobe, switching back and forth between Zulu and English, as a line of recruits sat listening to him describe various emergencies they might encounter. 

“Never ever try to play dead for a shark,” Jobe told them. “Only when you see a lion can you play dead.”

The vast majority of Jobe’s students are young adults from Durban’s neighboring black townships, many of whom have been recruited by outreach programs that teach children from the townships to swim. The recruits are selected based on their swimming ability. 

One of the classes Jobe teaches is comprised entirely of women. A recent citywide push has focused on recruiting more women to train as lifeguards. Jobe has high expectations for his all-female class, which was meeting that day. 

“These ladies are actually going to change the entire perspective that lifeguarding is only for men,” Jobe said. “We are now trying to change all of that perspective. It is supposed to be 50/50. We are actively bringing females in and there will be a different picture by September.”

The women are already seeing the obstacles they may face. Khanyisile Mgushelo, 21, said her biggest worry when she becomes a certified lifeguard has nothing to do with sharks, towering waves or the other dire situations that Jobe described.

“The other guys, the older people that I come across while I’m working, how will they treat me?” she said. “It’s something we all have to think about, but it wasn’t enough to push me back from being a lifeguard.”

Olwethu Zungu, 21, faced a similar struggle, and a similar determination.

“I love swimming, and I love helping people,” Zungu said. “I always wanted to do it. It was just that people didn’t take me seriously.”

Jobe is aware of the possible mistreatment the women may face and addresses it in his training, which he said needs to be all encompassing in order to prepare the women for the discrimination they may face.

“They are getting emotionally prepared,” Jobe said. “Because they are females, I have to teach them all of the bad things that they may encounter if they want to pursue being lifeguards. They must know that they will be harassed, they will be touched, and all kinds of vulgar language will be used at them. It is one of the things they must know that they will experience especially on these beaches.”

One of Jobe’s new recruits faces an additional challenge. Gnenhlanhla Zwane is deaf. She relies on her classmates, who know only basic sign language, to relay what Jobe is instructing. 

Zwane’s reasons for training to be a lifeguard are no different than her classmates’, though. The allure of the sea, combined with a passion for helping others, especially those who have similar physical challenges, is what made her want to be a lifeguard.

“[I] wanted to be a lifeguard because [I] like to help people, especially deaf people,” Zwane signed. “It will be easier for [me] to tell them what to do and what not to do, in signs.”

Jobe is currently taking a sign language class so he can better communicate with Zwane. 

“It is very, very, challenging especially for someone like me,” Jobe said. ‘I don’t know how to use sign language. When we’re out at sea and I have to tell her to go that direction, it is difficult because we both can’t understand each other.”

In addition to gender bias, the new recruits may encounter racial bias as well in their jobs. During the years of apartheid, beaches in South Africa were segregated by race, now anyone can go to any of the public beaches. Although Jobe said the beauty of Durban’s beaches is that all races and ethnicities flock to them, there are still stereotypes the prospective lifeguards must overcome. 

“That’s why we go to townships and public swimming pools, because we are trying to change the perspective that swimming is only for this group, not for this group,” Jobe said. “They say swimming is obviously for white people. Black man can run, white man can swim. So we are trying to swim to change that mentality.”

Jobe said it took him almost drowning as a teenager to learn to swim, and he immediately devoted his life to teaching others to swim. He is also part of a township outreach program that teaches young children how to swim. This, he said, makes the jobs of his lifeguards that much easier.

“The people come from the townships, and they come to our beaches,” Jobe said. “It helps us to know that half of them can swim.”

Sizwesisha Mpanza, 24, is part of an advanced coed program that studies alongside the all-female group.

“What brought me here?” Mpanza asked. “The ocean is a lovely place. It’s also a scary place.”

Jobe’s job is to equip the recruits with knowledge so the ocean is less scary for the lifeguards and its visitors.

“Normally, when they arrive, the first thing I say to them is, ‘I’m your guardian angel, so whenever you see me, you must know that you’re safe’,” Jobe said.

The responsibility is not solely on Jobe, as he sees his trainees as men and women who can shift how people view lifeguards. However, to the students themselves, it’s simple: They love Durban, they love the beach, and they will jump at the opportunity to help people.

“I think Durban is the home of surfers in South Africa and I grew up here, I love this place, what better job can you ask for?” Mpanza said.