No grievance can justify xenophobic attacks, warns top cop

Inside South Africa's latest anti-foreign surge: tension, temporary shelters, and the human cost of xenophobic violence.

A coastal town is facing big problems. People are scared and losing their homes because locals are fighting foreigners over jobs. Shops are closing, and some people have even died because of the violence. Many families are stuck in a community hall, not knowing where they'll go next. The government is talking about helping, but things are still very messy and uncertain for everyone.

What is causing displacement and fear in the coastal town?

The coastal town is experiencing displacement and fear due to xenophobic attacks, fueled by economic anxieties and perceived job competition between locals and foreign nationals. These tensions are exacerbated by accusations of unfair hiring practices, undocumented workers, and government inaction, leading to violence, shop closures, and tragic deaths.

Inside the Emergency Shelter

Three days have passed since the crowd rushed in, yet the Pacaltsdorp Community Hall still feels like a soaked storeroom - blankets steam, the faint aroma of baby formula clings to every wall. Toddlers sprint between towers of corn-flakes cartons while women in vivid kitenge skirts replay voice-notes about scattered family members. An officer at the entrance pins new stats to his board every hour: 212 grown-ups, 97 children, six diabetics, one woman at week 38. Nobody can name the day they will leave.

The hall’s residents once ran spaza kiosks, picked fruit, cleaned homes. Now thin foam mats are their entire world. Ibrahima Ndiaye, a tailor born in Senegal, thumbs through a plastic folder thick with tax slips. “VAT on every metre of cloth,” he says. “My shop is ash and no insurer is answering calls.” A volunteer lawyer sets up at a plastic table, helping a Malawian gardener translate loss into legalese while a nurse pricks fingers to screen blood-sugar levels.

Mamisa Lumbu, nine months pregnant, rubs her belly and stares past the clattering kettle. Her first two children qualified for South African citizenship the moment they drew breath here. “If they send me home tomorrow, who buys the nappies?” she asks. The hall can neither confirm her next bed nor the fate of her unborn child’s nationality. Outside, a police major briefs night patrols: shields only, no rifles. The line between protector and witness has never looked so thin.

Flash-points from Mossel Bay to Kleinmond

The trouble ignited miles apart but followed a single rhythm. In KwaNonqaba, shuttered Somali-run shops still carry hand-painted offers of “Cheap Calls to Maputo”. Residents argue that the local hake plant hired 200 Zimbabweans for the night shift in December while freezing local wages. Union minutes claim “locals lack filleting dexterity”; workers read that as code for “easier to fire”. Two weeks earlier the municipality yanked power from 900 houses over unpaid bills. Stones greeted the mayor; a Somali shopkeeper filming the chaos became the next target.

Twenty-five kilometres up the coast, Kleinmond’s rubbish collectors rage against Kenyan truckers who under-bid them by forty percent for rubble removal. An anonymous voice note, allegedly from an ANC councillor, warned that “Nigerian cartels” bought two protea farms to plant heroin-laced marijuana. Police found no trace of the farms or the drugs, but by dawn foreign-owned tuck-shops were pelted with bricks and a Kenyan-run workshop burned to the ground.

Two lives ended on Saturday night. Estêvão Mahumane, a 30-year-old truck-driver from Mozambique, took a blow to the skull. Albino Mabunda, a 26-year-old avocado picker from the same country, carried four knife wounds in his chest. Pathologists recorded the causes with clinical detachment; friends recorded the funerals on phones they can no longer afford to charge.

Government Statements and Gaps on the Ground

On Wednesday a convoy of dark SUVs landed at George Airport. Tactical vans lined the apron; cameras zoomed in on Lieutenant-General Tebello Mosikili adjusting her cuff. In the municipal chambers she leaned into every syllable: “No grievance justifies xenophobic attacks. Violence is not activism. Intimidation is not community protection.” Behind her, a national map bristled with red triangles - new police hotspots - one hovering above the very hall now sheltering the displaced.

Yet the numbers tossed to the press raise more questions than they answer. Acting National Commissioner Puleng Dimpane declared 34,798 “illegal foreigners” arrested since New Year. Home Affairs boasts 21,304 deportations, but court monitors say over-crowded cells force officers to release detainees with a handwritten promise to “come back next Friday”. Immigration courts in Cape Town convene only twice a week; the queue for a first hearing stretches ten weeks long. In the vacuum, Dudula organisers vow to “march on every seaside dorp”; the rival coalition #Asinakuphika (“We Cannot Deny”) raises funds for legal defence.

The hall empties haltingly at dusk. Municipal officials warn the only other large venue is booked for a karate tournament. School terms resume in a fortnight; classrooms will be classrooms again, not dormitories. Police sources admit they lack long-haul vans for deportations; the minister still promises “mobile Home Affairs units”. Between promise and capacity, the floor space between corn-flakes towers grows ever narrower.

Jobs, Gas and the Fragile Economy Ahead

Mossel Bay harbour stands still at night, but paperwork for a R9.2 billion gas-to-power plant rustles in boardrooms across Cape Town. The venture could plant 3,000 construction jobs in the region - if investors wary of “xenophobic headlines” do not flee. Premier Alan Winde dusts off a 2009 plan to formalise the spaza sector: micro-loans for locals, digital stock tracking, a ban on foreign-exclusive wholesalers. Treasury killed it once before, branding the idea “retail restructuring”. Today Winde hopes fiscal desperation will revive it.

Back on the pavement, the neon of a 24-hour pharmacy paints wet concrete red. Bongani Thango, a South African pharmacist born in the Eastern Cape, scrolls supplier updates. “I employ three staff - two Zimbabweans with permits. If these streets burn, my shelves empty and my loans sour. Tell me, who wins that?” His question echoes past locked bottle stores and past church boards that still plead “Love Thy Neighbour”. Near the N2 a fresh truck idles, the replacement for Estêvão Mahumane, frozen hake inside, headlights carving a narrow strip of hope - or warning - through the Southern Cape dark.

What is causing the displacement and fear in the coastal town?

The displacement and fear in the coastal town are primarily caused by escalating xenophobic attacks. These attacks stem from economic anxieties, perceived job competition between local residents and foreign nationals, and accusations of unfair labor practices. The situation is exacerbated by government inaction, leading to violence, shop closures, and tragic deaths.

Where are the displaced families currently sheltering?

Displaced families are currently sheltering in the Pacaltsdorp Community Hall. The hall is overcrowded, with 212 adults and 97 children, including vulnerable individuals like diabetics and a heavily pregnant woman. Conditions are challenging, with limited space and uncertainty about future accommodation.

What specific incidents of violence have occurred?

Incidents of violence include the closure of Somali-run shops in KwaNonqaba, attacks on a Somali shopkeeper, and the burning of a Kenyan-run workshop in Kleinmond. Tragically, two foreign nationals, Estêvão Mahumane and Albino Mabunda, were killed due to mob violence, suffering blows to the skull and multiple knife wounds, respectively.

How is the government responding to the crisis?

Government officials, including Lieutenant-General Tebello Mosikili and Acting National Commissioner Puleng Dimpane, have condemned the xenophobic attacks and stated that violence is not justified. While there have been numerous arrests of "illegal foreigners" and deportations, the effectiveness of these measures is questioned due to overcrowded cells, slow immigration court processes, and a lack of resources for long-haul deportations. Promises of "mobile Home Affairs units" are yet to be fully realized.

What are the economic tensions fueling the conflict?

Economic tensions are high, with locals alleging that foreign nationals are taking jobs, particularly in sectors like the hake plant where Zimbabwean workers were hired instead of locals, and in rubble removal where Kenyan truckers underbid local contractors. There are also concerns about foreign-owned businesses and alleged criminal activities, though police found no evidence for some claims, such as Nigerian cartels buying farms.

What are the long-term implications for the town's economy and social fabric?

The long-term implications are severe. The violence and uncertainty could deter potential investors, such as those for the R9.2 billion gas-to-power plant, which promises 3,000 construction jobs. Businesses, both local and foreign-owned, are suffering due to looted shops and fear. The social fabric is strained, with calls for both further action against foreigners and support for affected communities, highlighting a deep division and a fragile future for the coastal town.