Imagine living in a community where raw sewage flows through the streets, forcing you to keep your windows shut even in the sweltering summer heat. This is the grim reality for many residents of Cape Town, where gangs are demanding up to R10,000 in extortion fees before allowing municipal workers to fix burst pipes and sewage spills. But here's where it gets even more infuriating: while the city refuses to give in to these criminal demands, it’s the poorest residents who suffer the most, left to endure the stench and health hazards of untreated waste. And this is the part most people miss—the crisis isn’t just about money; it’s about safety, dignity, and the basic right to live in a clean environment.
Cape Town’s political head of water and sanitation, Dr. Zahid Badroodien, describes the situation as a relentless nightmare. The putrid smell is so overwhelming that families are forced to keep their homes sealed, even when temperatures soar. “The only way this headache will go away,” he explains, “is if our teams can safely enter these areas to fix what’s broken.” But that’s easier said than done. The city has identified ‘red zones’—areas so dangerous that municipal workers risk their lives just by stepping foot in them. Controversially, some argue that paying the gangs might be the only way to restore services quickly, but Badroodien is firm: ‘We will never do such a thing.’
Residents like Aphiwe Mhlungu are at their breaking point. ‘We can’t open our windows, the smell is everywhere, and the kids can’t even play outside,’ he laments. ‘We’re just left to live in this filth because no one can come in to help.’ On some days, the stench is so overpowering that his family can’t even eat. Another resident, Sibongile Dlamini, adds, ‘We are tired of living like this. We call the city, but repairs take too long. It’s humiliating to live like this while waiting for someone to help us.’
The crisis is compounded by ongoing sewage overflows and low water pressure in informal settlements. When an IOL news team visited Makhaza, Khayelitsha, earlier this month, they witnessed residents wading through knee-deep sewage. Blocked drains had flooded streets and homes, leaving an unbearable stench clinging to the air. But here’s a thought-provoking question: If the city can’t guarantee the safety of its workers, should it reconsider its stance on paying protection money? Or is there another solution entirely?
Badroodien insists that extortion isn’t the only issue. Vandalism and deliberate sabotage of infrastructure are worsening the problem. ‘You’ll find standpipes vandalized, illegal connections lowering water pressure, or toilets broken or removed,’ he explains. In Mitchells Plain, sewer manholes were found clogged with construction rubble, mattresses, TVs, and even car bumpers. ‘Every time we cleared it, the same thing would happen,’ he says. And this is the part most people miss: these acts of sabotage often spike during politically tense periods, suggesting a deeper, more sinister motive.
According to the Global Initiative Against Transnational Organized Crime, extortion is the ‘largest income stream after drugs’ for gangs in the Western Cape. The practice is ruthlessly enforced, contributing to a surge in gang-related violence. ‘Extortionists, including the notorious Gupta and Boko Haram gangs, seek to illegally ‘tax’ all economic activity, demanding protection fees from a threat they themselves create,’ the report states. But is the city doing enough to combat this criminal enterprise? Or are residents being left to fend for themselves?
Adding to the complexity, residents in Makhaza have built homes on top of a three-metre sewer servitude, making repairs nearly impossible. The city’s attempts to relocate them have been met with threats and resistance. Carl Pophaim, the MMC in charge, revealed that his officials were also threatened when trying to engage with residents. ‘We’ve assembled a transversal team to ensure a seamless relocation,’ he said, ‘but negotiations with local taxi associations have been challenging.’
Meanwhile, ActionSA has accused the city of pumping 27 litres of raw sewage into its coastline daily through marine outfalls, destroying ocean life and posing health risks to beachgoers. The city denies these claims, stating that only 5% of screened sewage is discharged into the ocean. Who should we believe? And what does this say about the city’s commitment to environmental and public health?
Benedicta van Minnen, chair of the Western Cape legislature’s police oversight committee, points to a lack of resources as a key issue. ‘Police staffing is 8,000 below what it should be,’ she notes. ‘This means fewer officers and detectives in stations, which makes a real difference.’ With conviction rates for gun crimes hovering around 5%, it’s clear that law enforcement is struggling to keep up. But is throwing more resources at the problem enough, or do we need a fundamentally different approach?
As the crisis drags on, one thing is clear: the residents of Cape Town deserve better. But the question remains—how do we get there? Is it through tougher law enforcement, community engagement, or a combination of both? What do you think? Should the city reconsider its stance on paying protection money, or is there another way to break this cycle of extortion and neglect? Let us know in the comments.
