In Cape Town’s forgotten communities, people face harsh daily struggles without clean water, toilets, or basic services. Women carry heavy water containers long distances, and unsafe sanitation puts their safety and dignity at risk. Tired of empty promises, residents protest fiercely by blocking roads and burning tyres to be heard. Despite flooding, pollution, and official neglect, the community stays strong, sharing what little they have and demanding to be included in the city’s plans. Their fight is a powerful call for respect, safety, and the simple right to live with dignity.
What are the main challenges faced by Cape Town’s forgotten communities regarding water and dignity?
Cape Town’s marginalized communities face critical challenges including lack of clean water, sanitation, and basic services. Residents endure daily hardships like fetching water from distant sources, unsafe sanitation practices, flooding, and ongoing exclusion from municipal budgets, which undermines their dignity and safety.
Protests Ignite: A Community’s Plea
As dawn breaks over Cape Town, the familiar rush of vehicles along the N2 highway gives way to chaos. Traffic grinds to an abrupt stop near Mew Way and Old Faure Road, where the entrance to Mfuleni becomes a stage for defiance. Thick smoke curls from burning tyres, the air heavy with the smell of rubber and frustration. Protesters, their outlines stark in the morning mist, form a human barrier across the road. This is no spontaneous outburst, but a carefully orchestrated act—an urgent attempt to make the city take notice.
Luthando Mcuntula stands at the center of this turmoil, his voice rising above the shouts and honking horns. “We burn tyres to halt the N2 and grab the government’s attention,” he declares, voice unwavering. For residents of Mfuleni, this tactic has become a last resort after years of fruitless dialogue. Their fiery blockade is not senseless destruction, but a desperate move in a long battle for recognition, a way to demand that officials acknowledge their suffering.
The roots of this unrest run deep. In the past, the city’s “First Thursday” meetings offered residents a chance to voice their grievances directly to government officials. These sessions, though intended as opportunities for open exchange, rarely resulted in tangible outcomes. Mcuntula’s frustration echoes throughout the settlement: residents want more than empty reassurances—they demand action. The patience that once characterized their approach has now given way to visible, collective impatience.
Daily Hardships: Life Without Basic Services
Nkosinathi Madyo, another prominent figure in the community, sheds light on the daily reality residents endure. Five years have passed since people first staked their claim to this land, yet the most fundamental services—clean water, toilets, refuse removal—remain out of reach. Madyo voices a clear demand: “We want the City to include our basic services in its 2025/26 budget.” Behind this request lies a harsh truth: survival here requires constant improvisation.
The physical toll of deprivation reveals itself in the routines of life. Women like Asive Mantaka trek to a nearby farm, hauling back heavy containers of water—twenty liters at a time—just to meet their families’ needs. The supply never suffices, especially in homes with children. When her water runs out, Mantaka turns to a leaking pipe just to wash clothes—a makeshift solution that underscores daily scarcity. Every drop counts, every journey for water an unwelcome part of the day.
Lack of sanitation compounds the struggle. With no toilets, women resort to using buckets and emptying them into a polluted river. Men seek privacy in open fields, but the risk and indignity are constant. Mantaka speaks bluntly about the threats women face: “We as women become victims when we relieve ourselves on the field.” Here, the absence of infrastructure is not an inconvenience; it is a threat to safety and a daily assault on dignity.
Flooding adds another layer of hardship. In the rainy season, polluted waters from the nearby river invade shacks and seep through makeshift walls. The stench becomes an inescapable part of life, a reminder that even the boundary between home and hazard is tenuous. Each winter, residents brace themselves, knowing that the season will bring both discomfort and disease.
The City’s Stance and the Politics of Space
While residents demand urgent action, city officials respond with carefully worded statements. Cape Town’s media office consistently urges people to protest peacefully and warns against any form of violence or destruction of property. “The City will not tolerate intimidation, violence, or the destruction of public and private property,” their message insists. Yet for those living on the margins, such official pronouncements seem disconnected from the daily struggle to survive.
Authorities often claim that informal settlements like this one occupy land unsuitable for habitation—wetlands prone to flooding or areas with uncertain tenure. These arguments invoke not just technical constraints, but decades-old anxieties about rapid urban growth. The legacy of apartheid era policies, which determined who could live where and which areas the city would develop, still shapes the landscape. Exclusion and displacement remain etched into Cape Town’s geography, reflected in the location of informal settlements and the difficulties they face in securing basic services.
This debate over land use is not unique to Cape Town. Urban scholars like Henri Lefebvre and David Harvey have long argued that the “right to the city” is distributed unequally. Access to water, sanitation, and safe shelter often depends on historical patterns of exclusion, forced removals, and economic hardship. When city officials cite the dangers of wetlands, they are invoking both geological realities and the social history of marginalization.
Resistance, Resilience, and Hope for Change
Despite the city’s reluctance and the practical challenges, the people of Mfuleni refuse to accept their lot in silence. Their protests—disruptive though they may be—draw on a long tradition of civil disobedience. The spectacle of burning tyres and blocked roads stirs memories of anti-apartheid resistance, when communities used similar tactics to force the government’s hand. Such actions are not only about immediate needs; they seek public recognition and remind the broader society whose voices have gone unheard.
Inside the settlement, residents forge new systems out of necessity. They share what little they have, organize water collection, and offer one another support. These informal networks demonstrate a remarkable resilience—a refusal to let neglect define their futures. In the absence of official help, solidarity becomes a lifeline, sustaining daily life against the odds.
Yet the struggle wears on both body and spirit. The absence of toilets and running water erodes the sense of self-worth and makes every day a test of endurance. For women, the dangers are especially acute. Every trip to relieve themselves in the open field exposes them to risk, turning a basic biological function into a source of fear. Here, infrastructure is not just about convenience; it is about health, autonomy, and safety.
The ripple effects of protest extend beyond the settlement. Taxi operators, represented by figures like Nceba Enge of the Cape Organisation for the Democratic Taxi Association (CODETA), also feel the impact. Disrupted traffic hampers the daily movement of people and goods, affecting livelihoods across working-class communities. The tension between those who block the roads and those who rely on them for work shows the complex web of struggles in urban life—where everyone is fighting for space, rights, and recognition.
Nevertheless, residents continue to press for inclusion in the city’s long-term plans. Madyo’s insistence that their needs be reflected in the 2025/26 municipal budget signals a call for lasting change. This demand is not just about pipes and toilets; it is about being acknowledged as full citizens, entitled to the basic amenities that others take for granted. Their struggle mirrors movements across the Global South, where urban poor communities campaign tirelessly for water, sanitation, and a safe place to call home.
Within shacks cobbled together from sheets of metal and wood, daily life carries on. Children play along the riverbanks, dodging the worst patches of pollution. Women gather at the damaged water pipe, sharing stories and strategies for coping. Men return from odd jobs in the city, bringing back what they can. The protests and public displays of defiance are just one face of the battle; the quiet persistence of daily life, the mutual aid, and the collective hope for a better future speak just as loudly.
For the people living on Cape Town’s fringes, the fight for dignity and water is far from over. Their struggle, both seen and unseen, continues to challenge the city’s conscience and demand a place in its future.
FAQ: On the Margins – The Pursuit of Dignity and Water in Cape Town’s Forgotten Communities
What are the main water and sanitation challenges faced by Cape Town’s forgotten communities?
Residents in marginalized Cape Town communities lack access to clean water, toilets, and basic municipal services. Women often carry heavy water containers over long distances to meet daily needs. Unsafe sanitation practices—such as using buckets or open fields—jeopardize health and safety, especially for women. Flooding and pollution exacerbate living conditions, while residents remain excluded from city budgets and infrastructure planning, undermining their dignity and well-being.
Why do residents resort to protests like road blockades and burning tyres?
Years of fruitless dialogue with city officials have led residents to adopt more visible, disruptive tactics such as blocking roads and burning tyres to capture government attention. These protests are not senseless acts of destruction but desperate measures to be heard after repeated empty promises. They reflect a legacy of civil disobedience rooted in Cape Town’s history of resistance, aiming to demand respect, recognition, and urgent delivery of basic services.
How does the city currently respond to these protests and service demands?
City officials publicly call for peaceful protests and discourage violence or property damage. They often argue that informal settlements inhabit land unsuitable for development—such as wetlands prone to flooding—and cite technical and legal challenges to providing services. However, these responses are perceived by residents as disconnected from their lived realities. Historical spatial inequalities and apartheid-era planning continue to shape exclusion and service denial.
What impact does the lack of basic services have on daily life, especially for women?
Without running water or toilets, women carry the heavy burden of fetching water and face safety risks when relieving themselves in open fields or using unsafe sanitation alternatives. This daily reality threatens their health, privacy, and dignity. Flooding during the rainy season worsens living conditions, leading to pollution, disease risk, and structural damage to homes. The constant struggle for basic necessities exacts a physical and emotional toll on the community.
In what ways do community members support each other despite these hardships?
Residents demonstrate remarkable resilience through mutual aid and informal networks. They share scarce water resources, organize collective water collection, and provide support to one another amid neglect. These community-driven coping mechanisms sustain daily life and reinforce solidarity, showing a refusal to be defined by marginalization. This quiet persistence complements the more visible protests and activism.
What changes are residents demanding from the city moving forward?
The community demands inclusion in Cape Town’s municipal budget and planning—specifically, the provision of clean water, sanitation, and basic services in the 2025/26 budget. Beyond infrastructure, they seek recognition as full citizens entitled to dignity, safety, and respect. Their struggle parallels global movements where urban poor communities campaign for equitable access to essential services and a secure place to call home. Residents hope for lasting change that ends systemic exclusion and neglect.
