Author: Will

When people think about volunteering at a care home, they often picture something clinical — lifting, feeding, medical tasks best left to trained staff. In reality, the volunteering that makes the biggest difference here is much simpler than that. It is company. Time. A familiar face who shows up.

What it actually involves

Our residents’ days are shaped by routine — meals, rest, the occasional activity. Volunteers add texture to that routine rather than replacing it. That might mean sitting with someone during a meal, joining an afternoon activity, reading to a resident whose eyesight has faded, or simply being someone new to talk to in a week that otherwise looks much like the last one.

Some volunteers come with a specific skill — music, art, hairdressing, a language a resident grew up speaking and rarely gets to use anymore. Others come with none of that, just time. Both are equally welcome. What matters most is consistency: residents remember who comes back.

You don’t need a special skill

This is the part people underestimate most. Visiting a resident does not require training in aged care — our staff handle the clinical side. What it requires is patience, and a willingness to sit with someone whose pace of life, and sometimes conversation, is slower than what you are used to. That is a skill in itself, but it is one almost anyone can develop simply by showing up more than once.

If you do have a particular skill you would like to offer — physiotherapy, occupational therapy, music, a craft — we are always glad to talk about how it could fit into a resident’s week. But it is not a requirement, and it never has been.

Why it matters as much as funding

Donations keep the lights on and pay for care that cannot be delivered any other way. But isolation is its own kind of hardship, and no budget line fixes it. Residents who have regular visitors — whether family or volunteers — are, by every measure we have, happier and more settled than those who do not. A weekly hour of someone’s time is a real contribution, not a token one.

If this sounds like something you could offer, even irregularly to start, get in touch through our Get Involved section. We will find something that fits both what you can give and what a resident actually needs — that match is usually where the real difference gets made.

Frederic Place was founded in 1978 as a project of the Society of St Vincent de Paul, and that lineage is not incidental. The Society’s approach to charity — personal, practical, and focused on the dignity of the person being helped rather than the convenience of the helper — still shapes how we work today. Its origins go back nearly two centuries, to a group of students in Paris and a challenge one of them could not walk away from.

A challenge to prove it

In 1833, a 19-year-old law student named Frederic Ozanam was part of a student discussion group in Paris debating faith and social questions. Challenged by a critic who argued that Christianity had done nothing practical for the poor in the modern age, Ozanam and a small group of fellow students — among them Auguste Le Taillandier, Paul Lamache, and their mentor Emmanuel Bailly — decided the only real answer was action, not argument.

They began visiting poor families in Paris directly, bringing firewood and food, but more importantly, their time and attention. A Daughter of Charity, Sister Rosalie Rendu, who had spent years working in one of the city’s poorest districts, guided the young students in how to visit with genuine respect rather than charity as spectacle. That distinction — help given person to person, not case to case — became the Society’s defining principle.

Why it carries St Vincent de Paul’s name

The group took their patron from Vincent de Paul, the 17th-century French priest famous for organising practical care for the poor, the sick, and abandoned children long before formal social services existed. Ozanam’s students were not connected to him directly — he had died almost two centuries earlier — but adopted him as a namesake and model for the kind of unglamorous, direct service they wanted to practise.

What started as a handful of students visiting a handful of families grew quickly. Within Ozanam’s lifetime, Conferences of the Society had spread across France and into other countries. Today the Society of St Vincent de Paul operates in more than 150 countries, still organised around small local “Conferences” of volunteers who visit and assist people in their own communities. Ozanam himself was beatified by the Catholic Church in 1997, and is remembered each year on his feast day, the 7th of September.

From Paris to Coronationville

By the time the Society reached South Africa, its members were doing the same work Ozanam started with — visiting, listening, and responding to need directly — applied to local conditions. In Johannesburg, that included recognising a gap in care for elderly and destitute residents with nowhere else to turn. In 1978, that recognition became Frederic Place.

We registered as an independent non-profit organisation in 2012, but the Society’s founding idea — that dignity is not something you extend to people once their other needs are met, but the starting point of how you treat them — remains the standard we hold ourselves to. Read more about our history, or find out how to get involved.

Ask most people what good care for an older person looks like, and they will describe a building: clean rooms, a nurse on call, a garden to sit in. Those things matter. But after years of caring for residents at Frederic Place, we have learned that the difference between a facility and a home is rarely visible in a photograph. It is in the small, daily choices that let someone keep their sense of self.

More than medical care

Frail care, by definition, involves a lot of clinical work: medication schedules, mobility support, monitoring for the conditions that come with age. It has to be done well, and done by people who are properly trained for it. But treating an older person as a set of medical needs, rather than a person who happens to have them, is where care can start to feel institutional.

The residents in our care spent decades making their own decisions — what to eat, when to sleep, who to spend time with. Frailty does not erase that history. Good care asks, wherever possible: what would this person have chosen for themselves, and how do we make that still possible?

Why personal attention makes the difference

Two residents with the same diagnosis can need very different things. One wants company at every meal; another prefers quiet. One finds comfort in routine; another wants the freedom to change plans. Care that is only clinical treats these as noise. Care that is personal treats them as the point.

That is why staff who know each resident — not just their chart, but their habits, their history, their sense of humour — make such a visible difference to quality of life. It takes longer to build that kind of familiarity than it does to follow a care plan. It is also, we would argue, the actual job.

Community, not just care

Isolation is one of the quieter risks of old age, especially for residents who have outlived friends and, in some cases, family. Shared meals, a garden to sit in, familiar faces — these are not extras added on top of care. They are part of it. A resident who feels like part of a community is, in every sense that matters, better cared for than one who is simply looked after.

This is also why homes like Frederic Place, which are open to residents regardless of what they can pay, matter for a country where private frail care is out of reach for most families. Dignified ageing should not depend on income. It depends on whether the people providing care see the person in front of them, not just the need.

If this is a subject you care about — whether as a potential volunteer, a donor, or simply someone thinking ahead for a parent or relative — we would welcome the conversation. Find out how to get involved.

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