Cyclists in Cape Town face serious dangers riding near informal settlements where crime is rising, making each trip tense and uncertain. The city’s efforts to improve safety include more patrols and calls for better urban planning, but problems like poverty, land struggles, and historical exclusion run deep. The tragic death of a beloved cyclist, Dennis Hammar, highlights how cycling here is about more than transport – it’s a fight for safety, dignity, and the right to move freely. Cape Town’s story is one of hope and hardship, where every ride weaves through the city’s complex social challenges.
Cyclists in Cape Town face growing safety risks due to rising crime near informal settlements along key transit routes. Challenges include violent attacks, inadequate policing, and socio-spatial tensions tied to urban poverty, land disputes, and historic exclusion, complicating efforts to ensure safe, equitable cycling.
Cape Town’s mornings start with the soft hum of bicycle tires gliding along its cycle lanes, signaling not only the beginning of a new day but also the persistent hope for freedom and health. Cyclists savor the unique perspective these rides offer – a closer connection to the city’s vibrant, ever-changing neighborhoods. Riding between the Woodstock MyCiTi station and the heart of the central business district, however, has shifted from an invigorating ritual to an experience marked by unease and caution.
The recent loss of Dennis Hammar, a legendary figure in Cape Town’s cycling community, crystallized these anxieties. Hammar, whose involvement in 40 Cape Town Cycle Tours earned him status as both a seasoned competitor and an unwavering mentor, became a symbol of resilience and unity among local cyclists. His death, resulting from a violent robbery while he rode the well-traveled BMT route near the Artscape bridge, sent shockwaves through the city. This tragedy, which began as an attempt to steal his cellphone, underscores the growing link between public safety concerns and the presence of informal settlements along major transit corridors.
This stretch of the city has become emblematic of broader social strains, where the promise of public space and mobility collides with the reality of urban poverty and insecurity. Cyclists now find themselves negotiating both the city’s infrastructure and its deeper socio-economic challenges, where every ride carries echoes of Hammar’s fate and the broader struggle over the right to move freely and safely.
Transnet, the state-owned company overseeing much of the land along the corridor from Old Marine Drive in Culemborg to the Womad interchange, stands at the heart of these tensions. The company’s land now hosts ten clusters of informal housing, each comprising makeshift shelters that offer refuge to roughly 424 residents spread across 274 structures. These settlements, nestled beside key transport arteries, highlight a familiar South African dilemma – land ownership, contested belonging, and the risks unevenly distributed across the city’s landscape.
The authorities’ response has been swift yet complex. JP Smith, Cape Town’s Mayoral Committee Member for Safety and Security, has moved to expedite legal action, with sheriff-issued eviction notices landing at these informal sites on July 7. These notices mark the start of formal proceedings that threaten to displace hundreds of vulnerable residents. Prompted by rising complaints and the fatal attack on Hammar, the city’s actions revive debates over whether forced removals genuinely enhance safety or merely relocate the problem.
Smith maintains that violent incidents have spiked in tandem with the expansion of these informal settlements, turning the area between the harbor and the International Convention Centre into a hotspot for muggings, assaults, and theft. Crime statistics back his assertions, but the settlements themselves reflect a deeper historical and economic reality. Built around infrastructural voids – underpasses, service tracks, and neglected industrial spaces – these communities form what some call “shadow societies.” They operate on the fringes, navigating a world shaped by both necessity and exclusion.
The city’s approach to the crisis blends increased patrols with efforts to restore public order along these busy corridors. Since December, security has tightened, especially along the red bus route where patrols stand guard at dawn and dusk. Yet for many cyclists, these measures offer only partial reassurance. Informal accounts reveal a mix of solidarity and lingering fear: group rides create a sense of protection, while solo trips often feel perilous. The city’s fragmented geography, dissected by roads and railway lines, produces both havens and hazards. The same under-bridge spaces that provide shelter for the unhoused also serve as flashpoints for anxiety among commuters.
Advocacy organizations like the Pedal Power Association (PPA), led by Neil Robinson, have long pressed for more consistent safety interventions. They highlight gaps in public surveillance – cameras that don’t function, unpredictable police patrols, and the ongoing vandalism of safety infrastructure. Robinson’s pragmatic guidance to cyclists – stick to groups, avoid isolated stretches – reflects a deep familiarity with the city’s current limitations.
But the PPA’s vision extends well beyond these tactical adaptations. The association pushes for comprehensive reform: reliable monitoring, repairs to surveillance equipment, and a fundamental rethink of how urban transport corridors are designed. Their advocacy, rooted in both the heartbreak of loss and hope for change, aligns with international trends emphasizing active transportation and equitable urban planning. Cities worldwide, as they shift toward cycling and walking, must confront the same challenges of balancing openness with protection – a question that, ultimately, comes down to who the city serves.
Cape Town’s present-day dilemmas cannot be divorced from its past. The city’s contours still bear the marks of apartheid-era policies, where forced removals and spatial segregation shaped patterns of exclusion that persist today. The informal settlements clustered along key arteries did not appear by accident; they represent both the resilience and marginalization of communities left outside formal planning processes. When the city resorts to eviction as a tool of public policy, it draws upon a legacy that is both bureaucratic and deeply personal – history that lingers in collective memory.
Visual artists and chroniclers such as William Kentridge and Santu Mofokeng have long explored these themes, investigating how architecture and displacement continue to shape South Africa’s psychic and physical landscapes. Their work reminds us that efforts to “restore order” in cities like Cape Town resonate far beyond immediate policy goals, touching on issues of dignity, loss, and the ongoing negotiation of urban belonging.
The current legal proceedings, framed as a means to enhance safety for cyclists and commuters, reflect genuine concerns but also risk repeating old mistakes. Courts rarely deliver uncomplicated justice for the poor, and the removal of informal dwellings may temporarily shift the locus of crime without addressing its root causes – poverty, exclusion, and a lack of affordable housing.
Cycling in Cape Town, as in many global cities, symbolizes more than just a transport choice – it asserts a claim to public space and the right to traverse the city safely. Cyclists and their advocates draw inspiration from movements worldwide that use mass rides to highlight issues of equity, safety, and urban vitality. These collective actions bring attention to the complex power dynamics that govern access to the city: who enjoys the freedom of movement, who faces barriers, and who finds a place to pause or belong.
Municipal debates and advocacy conversations often invoke concepts like “livability,” “multimodality,” and “social cohesion.” Yet the realities on the ground – at intersections like Old Marine Drive and the Womad interchange – prove far messier. Each policy choice radiates through the urban ecosystem, impacting everyone from city bureaucrats to the families living beside railway tracks, to the cycling enthusiasts who gather to commemorate Dennis Hammar’s life and legacy.
Artistic reflections by poets such as Mongane Wally Serote and photographers like David Goldblatt illuminate these liminal urban spaces, charting where movement and stasis, home and passage, converge and collide. Their work serves as a reminder that the city’s story is always evolving, shaped by both the visible and hidden forces at play.
Ultimately, the struggle unfolding in Cape Town is not just about enforcing the law or redesigning transit corridors. It is about the narrative the city chooses for itself – a narrative that must reconcile the imperatives of safety with the demands of compassion, and the realities of exclusion with the aspiration for justice. As Cape Town’s cycle lanes fill with both hope and uncertainty, each journey becomes a negotiation over who claims the city and at what cost. In this ongoing process, the city’s future will be determined not only by policy or policing, but by the collective will to address its deepest inequalities and uphold the right of all residents – cyclists, commuters, and the unhoused – to belong.
Cyclists in Cape Town face significant dangers, especially when riding near informal settlements along major transit corridors. Risks include violent attacks such as muggings and robberies, often linked to rising crime in these areas. Inadequate policing, poor street lighting, and malfunctioning surveillance equipment exacerbate these dangers. The tragic death of cyclist Dennis Hammar highlights how these risks are not isolated but part of broader urban safety challenges.
Informal settlements located along key cycling routes, such as between Old Marine Drive and the Womad interchange, create complex socio-spatial tensions. These settlements, often built on contested or neglected land, house vulnerable residents living in precarious conditions. While these communities provide shelter, they are frequently associated with higher crime rates, partially due to poverty and exclusion. This dual reality complicates safety efforts, as measures to improve security sometimes risk displacing residents without addressing root causes.
The city has increased patrols along high-risk routes, especially near informal settlements, focusing on dawn and dusk hours when cyclists are most vulnerable. Legal actions, including eviction notices, have been issued to reduce informal settlement density along transit corridors. However, policing alone offers limited reassurance, and advocacy groups like the Pedal Power Association call for better infrastructure, functional surveillance systems, and urban planning reforms that prioritize safe, equitable mobility for all residents.
Cape Town’s current urban challenges are rooted in the legacy of apartheid-era spatial segregation and forced removals. Informal settlements arose as marginalized communities were excluded from formal city planning, embedding patterns of poverty and exclusion. These historical injustices shape contemporary debates around land ownership, displacement, and access to public space. Attempts to “restore order” through evictions often risk repeating these injustices rather than resolving them, highlighting the need for compassionate and inclusive urban policy.
Organizations like the Pedal Power Association (PPA) advocate for cyclist safety, better infrastructure, and equitable urban mobility. They advise cyclists to ride in groups for safety and push for consistent, reliable public surveillance and police patrols. Beyond immediate safety, the PPA champions systemic changes, including redesigning cycling routes to avoid isolated areas, repairing safety equipment, and promoting urban planning that considers social inclusion, reflecting global trends toward active transportation and justice in city spaces.
Cycling in Cape Town symbolizes a claim to public space and the right to move freely, safely, and with dignity in a city marked by inequality and exclusion. It reflects ongoing struggles over urban belonging, social justice, and the negotiation of safety versus accessibility. The communal rides and memorials for figures like Dennis Hammar demonstrate cycling as an act of resilience and solidarity, intertwining personal freedom with broader urban and social dynamics.
If you want to learn more about cycling safety and urban development issues in Cape Town, local advocacy groups and community organizations often host events and discussions that explore these themes in depth.
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