A few years ago, I was standing in line at a grocery store in Randburg when the woman ahead of me bought electricity, bread, and—almost casually—a funeral microinsurance top-up.

It struck me at the time: for many South Africans, small policies like this aren’t “nice to have.” They’re survival tools. Quiet, practical acts of preparing for the inevitable without needing a big financial cushion.

And honestly, that moment stuck with me. Probably because it said more about the purpose of microinsurance than any brochure ever could.

So what exactly does funeral microinsurance cover?

Most people think of it as a stripped-down version of personal insurance, and sure, that’s partly true. But it’s not just a “budget” version—it has its own logic.

The core idea is simple: provide fast, modest financial support when someone passes away. Not a mountain of paperwork. Not a six-week waiting period that leaves families scrambling. 

Just… enough. Enough to cover the funeral service, a coffin, transport, groceries for visitors, or whatever the household needs in that difficult blur of days.

Typical cover includes:

1. A fixed payout (often R5,000 – R30,000, sometimes more)
2. Immediate assistance benefits (like funeral home coordination)
3. Repatriation of remains, especially for families split across provinces
4. Sometimes airtime or transport vouchers—small but incredibly practical things

It’s all designed around speed. When you’ve lost someone, waiting is the last thing you want to deal with. To be fair, that’s something the bigger policies sometimes forget.

Who actually benefits? (Hint: more people than you’d think)

You’d expect low-income households to be the main users, and they are—but not exclusively. What surprised me, speaking with families during some field research years ago, was how multi-generational, middle-income families quietly rely on these policies too.

Not because they can’t afford anything else, but because coordinating a funeral is more chaotic than anyone admits.

There’s also:

• Migrants sending money home**, who use microinsurance to support family rituals without draining monthly remittances.
• Young adults, often the first in their family with formal employment, who buy small policies to avoid leaving their siblings with costs.
• Informal workers whose income fluctuates too much for traditional insurance underwriting.
• And, interestingly, grandparents, who trust microinsurance more because the payout is predictable and doesn’t require a stack of documents.

In reality, funeral microinsurance ends up being the safety net under the safety nets.

The part nobody talks about: the emotional economy

One elderly gentleman in Khayelitsha told me, “We insure because we love.” A simple line, but it hit harder than most financial reports I’ve read. Funeral costs aren’t just costs.

They’re tied to dignity, tradition, and sometimes pressure. And microinsurance—because it’s affordable and usually community-rooted—softens that emotional weight.

There’s something very human in that. Almost a quiet rebellion against the idea that financial planning needs to look polished and middle-class to be valid.

Is it perfect? Of course not.

Some policies are confusing. Some salespeople oversell or use emotional pressure. Some families don’t fully understand waiting periods for non-accidental deaths. And yes, the industry still struggles with trust issues—especially when claims get rejected for technical reasons.

But compared to other forms of personal insurance, funeral microinsurance usually has:

• Fewer exclusions
• Easier onboarding
• Faster claims
• Lower premiums
• More flexible payment channels (even airtime purchases—still wild to me)

It’s not glamorous. It’s not a retirement annuity that makes you feel responsible and grown-up. But it’s honest. Straightforward. And sometimes that’s worth more.

Where does microinsurance fits in South Africans’ real lives?

In most households, it quietly fills the space between financial planning and cultural obligation. Not in a patronising “look how affordable this is” way, but in a genuinely practical, almost intimate way.

It covers:

• The cost of a dignified send-off
• The social expectation of feeding mourners
• The reality that people need time off work
• The need to travel between cities or provinces
• The small expenses that tend to creep in unnoticed

If you’ve ever been part of arranging a funeral, you know there’s always one moment where someone says, “Wait, who’s paying for this?” Funeral microinsurance answers that question before it becomes a crisis.

And who really benefits?

Those who live in the spaces between formal and informal financial systems. Those who can’t afford unpredictability. Those who want the dignity of choice rather than relying on last-minute family collections.

In other words: ordinary people who don’t want a tragedy to become a financial storm.

Honestly, that’s something we could all relate to, no matter our income bracket.